The Fame Issue
They are creative directors, artistic advisors, co-creators of capsule collections. The public knows them from music, film and television, but suddenly they are presenting themselves as "fashion designers." Are celebrities once and for all taking the place of (former) couturiers?
The first decade of the 2000s was full of paranormal phenomena. Episodes that, in isolation, would be seen as bizarre, unusual, surreal, but that within the anomaly that those ten years were can almost be considered banal. In 2004, Donald Trump, who at the time had just debuted The Apprentice - the contest that catapulted him to stardom, and which aired for sixteen years - launched a line of men's clothing bearing his name. The Donald J. Trump Signature Collection, whose suits cost around 120 euros and were an easy way to get the look of the American millionaire (tastes are not debatable), was even sold in the famous Macy's department stores - until 2015, when the former occupant of the White House made serious comments about Mexican immigrants. Jessica Simpson, the girl next-door in The Dukes of Hazzard, which youngsters will know from possible reruns of the reality show Newlyweds, started out with a line of jeans - it made sense, she was the embodiment of the typical American girl, and the daisy dukes she wears in the movie are as iconic as her character. It was short-lived. But Simpson was undeterred and, in 2005, she presented the result of her collaboration with Vince Camuto: a collection of shoes. What seemed like a one-off experiment ended up becoming a full-time business, with the actress leading one of Hollywood's most successful career transitions. The same happened with Sean Combs. In 2004, when the world knew him as P. Diddy, the rapper won the coveted CFDA award for Menswear Designer of the Year for his Sean John brand, leaving veterans like Ralph Lauren or Michael Kors behind. Before that, Combs had been nominated three times. But no foray into the fashion world was as unexpected as that of Lindsay Lohan, who caused a tsunami with her stint at Ungaro.
There were few media outlets that didn't drag the Parisian fashion house's spring/summer 2010 collection, the first (and last) to feature the American actress alongside Estrella Archs, a designer of Spanish origin. The New York Times was perhaps one of the most "sympathetic" publications to comment on Lohan's debut: "When Lindsay Lohan's controversial appointment as artistic adviser to the French label was announced last month [September 2009], Mounir Moufarrige, Ungaro's new chief executive, said his intention was to give the aging brand the equivalent of an 'electric shock treatment. But based on the reaction to the collection that was shown here at the Louvre, the first designed by Estrella Archs with Ms. Lohan's advice, he got more than that: the editors and buyers present said they were the ones who were shocked." Virginie Mouzat, a journalist for Le Figaro, described Lohan's signing as a non-event from a fashion point of view, but said she was worried about what it could mean. "Perhaps this is the next step in the use of people by fashion brands," she said, as if she had a crystal ball in her hands. "But when you look at her own style, for me she's not relevant, firstly in relation to fashion, and secondly in relation to a Haute Couture house like Ungaro. Maybe she could be relevant to Kookaï."
The decision to invite the celebrity came after the historic house was bought in 2005 by Asim Abdullah, a Pakistani computer engineer with no experience or connection to the industry. It was the appointment of Mounir Moufarrige - responsible for replacing Karl Lagerfeld with Stella McCartney at the head of Chloé in 1997 - as CEO of the maison that started a series of "disasters." First was the choice of Esteban Cortázar, a young 23-year-old designer, as creative director. Cathy Horyn, a powerful fashion critic, said he lacked everything: "Experience, age and even the sophistication and vision to lead Ungaro." Little did she know that, before long, the Archs and Lohan duo would surprise everyone with a colorful and uncomplicated collection that could have been in the windows of a fast fashion store, but never on the catwalk of one of the oldest Haute Couture houses in Paris. After the controversy surrounding the show, Moufarrige eventually confessed that the main purpose of choosing Lindsay Lohan was to generate publicity, and he was surprised "that the reviews weren't even more negative."
Lohan's nightmare during the Ungaro soap opera is just a symptom of the mistreatment the actress suffered during the early 2000s, when she was, along with Britney Spears and Paris Hilton, a favorite subject of the tabloids. Her stratospheric popularity, which justified the adoration of millions of fans, turned against her every time she took a wrong turn, whether it was drunk driving or creating an "inappropriate" clothing collection for a luxury brand. Was she to blame for many of her mistakes, or was she clearly taken advantage of by those who saw her star power as a means to an end? From this distance, wasn't she a victim of this trap, meticulously prepared to generate millions of dollars? Basically, that's what we're talking about when we talk about "celebrities turned designers": a gigantic marketing campaign. Madonna's Material Girl line, launched together with her daughter, Lourdes Leon, in 2010, will not go down in history, but it has served to increase (even more) the American artist's fortune. The Kardashians, who started out "just" rich, then famous, thanks to their reality TV show, Keeping Up With The Kardashians, took their first steps into the world of fashion in 2011, with a collection launched with Sears. Today, the world's most famous sisters are at all the major fashion week shows. Last year, Kim Kardashian teamed up with Dolce & Gabbana to create Ciao, Kim, a set of pieces covering the brand's period from 1987 to 2007, which were reinterpreted with the help of the businesswoman - no website failed to report on the partnership. Celebrities are fundamentally the opposite of ghost designers, who refuse the limelight and live in anonymity, oblivious to the noise of social networks and red carpets.
Virginie Viard, who replaced Karl Lagerfeld at Chanel, is his opposite in terms of media coverage. At Celine, despite being controversial and provocative, Hedi Slimane rarely appears or gives interviews. After a tumultuous departure from Dior, John Galliano is as discreet at Maison Margiela as its founder. Gone are the days when great designers were also great personalities. Giorgio Armani is one of the last couturiers still active. Nowadays, advertising is generated by "ambassadors" and "friends" of brands, whose role quickly becomes something more. Dua Lipa, a regular in Versace campaigns, accepted Donatella Versace's invitation to co-sign a collection, La Vacanza, presented during the Cannes Film Festival: on May 23rd, in a sumptuous villa in the South of France, the result of this collaboration was revealed to an audience that included, among others, Lewis Hamilton and Jacquemus. In March, Beyoncé and Olivier Rousteing, creative director of Balmain and a personal friend of hers, launched Renaissance Couture, a collection inspired by the songs on her latest album. That's why certain news, such as the choice of Pharrell Williams to head Louis Vuitton's men's collections, isn't all that surprising.
It's as simple as this: anyone who likes Pharrell Williams' style will want to buy a Louis Vuitton jacket to "get closer" to him. Fans imagine themselves (unconsciously, of course) acquiring a piece, necessarily sacred, of their idol, whether he's selling a ten-thousand-euro wallet or some pants on final sale. But, let's stress, the musician is far from being a no-go. Pharrell runs his own streetwear line, Billionaire Boys Club, for almost two decades, and has helped boost the careers of brands such as BAPE and Cactus Plant Flea Market, for example. He's a regular on best-dressed lists (for what it's worth). His eye is very well trained. As the website Higsnobiety wrote a few months ago: "Pharrell has very good taste and, let's face it, this is Louis Vuitton we're talking about: between Pharrell's universal recognition and the creative ability inherent in the LV team, whatever happens is almost guaranteed to at least look good and sell a lot. It's a shrewd business decision." However, warned the journalist responsible for the text, it's not all roses. "That said, my biggest problem is that Pharrell, a well-established pop culture figure, so clean that his biggest single ever was created for a Minions movie, has to be the safest possible choice to replace Virgil Abloh." He concluded: "If fashion houses continue to favor celebrities over young designers, there will never be another Virgil Abloh." This is precisely the fear of most fashion followers: what happens if, suddenly, those who have always studied for it are simply wiped out? That shouldn't happen, say the more sensible voices. The industry needs creativity and new blood, and cannot survive on the hype and noise that surrounds a celebrity's day-to-day life.
Of course, there are exceptions. We found two success stories, both totally unexpected. Victoria Beckham and the Olsen sisters - the former a former Spice Girl, the latter two former actresses from birth - are probably the best (if not the only) examples of celebrities who have managed to make it as designers - not of a fast fashion line, but of established brands, appreciated by critics and the public. Beckham, who for years and years was seen as little more than a WAG (an acronym for sportsmen's wives and girlfriends) with money, living in the shadow of her past as Posh Spice, rolled up her sleeves and, in 2008, launched her eponymous brand. The applause was not long in coming and, fifteen years later, the designer is synonymous with elegance and sobriety. Mary-Kate and Ashley, whose style was (and is) copied to no end, created The Row in 2006. The success was not immediate, a bit like the hype surrounding the brand, which was little or none. Hollywood's most famous twins preferred discretion and sustained growth, and today The Row stands as the pinnacle of luxury. What do Beckham and the Olsen girls have that everyone else doesn't? Dedication. This is their only job. As journalist Teri Agins, author of the book Hijacking the Runway: How Celebrities Are Stealing the Spotlight from Fashion Designers, recalled in an interview with an American publication, "the Olsen girls were child actresses who grew up to be fashion designers. Victoria Beckham says: 'I'm a woman, a mother of four and a fashion designer. And that's what she does. (...) Yes, celebrities can immediately get ahead of everyone. People buy [their products] once. If the clothes keep working, they'll buy them again. But you can't base a fashion business on fans alone." Here's the answer to the million-euro question.
*Originally translated from The Fame Issue, published October 2023. Full credits and stories in the print issue.
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