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Michael Rider Is Making His Celine Debut Today—Follow Along With Vogue Editors Here
Celine was founded 80 years ago, in 1945, by Céline Vipiana as a made-to-measure children's shoes shop. It became part of the LVMH group in 1996. The first designer charged with reimagining the maison was an American: Michael Kors. He designed for gray pencil skirts and furs for latter day Hitchcock heroines, jeans for Aspen habitues and tie-died caftans in which to flirt with cabana boys during his tenure, 1997-2203. Next up was Roberto Menichetti, a Burberry alum, followed by Ivana Omazic.
In the decade she was at Celine, 2008-2018 Phoebe Philo ushered in a golden age for the brand with smart, minimal, women-friendly clothes and delectable bags that set fashion's agenda.
Philo was succeeded by Hedi Slimane who, jettisoned what the Internet dubbed Old Céline style, with his own enticing brand of grunge and glam.
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New York Times
an hour ago
- New York Times
Introducing the New New Celine
The New New Celine arrived on the runway during a rainy day in Paris. The heat dome over Europe finally had broken, and water was dripping through a giant red, white and blue Celine scarf that had been strung over the courtyard of the brand's headquarters, landing delicately on the heads of the guests seated below. Michael Rider was making his designer debut, and he presumably wanted to invite everyone into the brand's home, both as a welcome and a reset. It had been eight months since the previous creative director, Hedi Slimane, departed the job, and five years since Celine was part of any official fashion week at all. What emerged, however, was more like a synthesis: a dialectic in wardrobe form between the subversive, female-centric luxury of Old Celine made famous by Phoebe Philo and the didactic desiccation-meets-the-bourgeoisie of New Celine as defined by Mr. Slimane; between the lunching chic of Original Celine established in 1945 by its founder, Céline Vipiana, and the preppiness of Mr. Rider's recent stint as women's design director of Ralph Lauren. All of it sent through the looking glass only to re-emerge in twisted form on the other side. It was familiar, but in a messed up way. At least in Mr. Rider's hands, the effect was compellingly (rather than alarmingly) unsettling. Blazers were oversize, with the waist pulled slightly off its axis, shoulders sloping out — not to push through a glass ceiling, but to poke it, and maybe add a tickle or two. Pants were legging or long john tight (Mr. Rider is one of those designers seemingly committed to the concept of men in leggings, which may be a sly commentary on Mr. Slimane's famously skinny silhouette, but is never really a good idea) but also pleated at the waist and curvy at the thigh, paired with equally curvy cropped leather jackets and tucked into supple leather boxing boots. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
New York Times
an hour ago
- New York Times
The Novelist Who Tried to Make It Look Cool to Be Fascist
MALAPARTE: A Biography, by Maurizio Serra; translated by Stephen Twilley 'Fascism' is notoriously difficult to define. It insisted on conformism while attracting bohemians and subversives, fused manic idealism with brutal cynicism and combined elements of modernism and pastoral nostalgia. The critic and philosopher Walter Benjamin once wrote that 'fascism is the introduction of aesthetics into political life.' In 'Malaparte,' Maurizio Serra's outstanding biography of the Italian dandy, journalist, playwright, would-be diplomat and filmmaker Curzio Malaparte, the author makes clear that Benjamin was correct. Whatever else it was, 20th-century fascism was a project more of imagination than reason; it was driven by aspiring European elites who presented themselves as populists in their pursuit of grandeur and greatness. Malaparte showed the first glimmers of his prodigious writerly talent as a young man in the early 1920s, and although he was once an ardent champion of the fascist dictator Benito Mussolini, his literary reputation has hardly been confined to the fringes of the far right. The admirers of his enduring novels 'Kaputt' (1944) and 'The Skin' (1949) include Milan Kundera, Edmund White and Gary Indiana. The Premio Malaparte, an Italian prize bearing his name, has been proudly accepted by novelists like Rachel Cusk and Karl Ove Knausgaard. The sociologist Michael Mann once wrote, 'Fascism was a movement of the lesser intelligentsia,' but Malaparte was a first-rate talent as both journalist and fiction writer. Still, he struggled to put his creative energy to constructive use: He looked down on losers, but, in his misbegotten schemes and futile projects, he found himself among their ranks. There is a pathetic aspect to Serra's account of Malaparte's life, a solipsism that despaired of finding anything worthwhile in life other than movement and adventure. The anti-intellectual intellectual, the macho man who wore makeup and sported perfectly coifed hair; physically courageous as a soldier and war correspondent but in politics and his personal life a moral coward; the militant anti-communist fascinated with Lenin's Russia and, eventually, Mao's China; the bourgeois snob who hated the bourgeoise and idealized both proletarians and aristocrats: Malaparte embodied, almost perfectly, the contradictory impulses of the fascist generation. Malaparte was not among fascism's top ranks. He was not one of the chief ideologues, like his fellow writer Giuseppe Bottai. But, as his literary fame spread during the interwar period, he showed fascism's seductive side and cultivated a fraught relationship with Mussolini that continued into the 1930s. 'Malaparte' demonstrates that fascism was not only a collective enterprise and cult of the leader, but an individual one: a narcissistic worship of the self and a chance for ambitious young men from the provinces, dissatisfied with their place in liberal society, to embark upon a career. The most important client of Malaparte's propaganda was always himself, and, in later years, he worked to make it seem that he had been an antifascist dissident the whole time. Serra tells us not to buy it: Malaparte's apparent political transformations were opportunistic or driven by whim. And if he abandoned the Fascist Party when he had to, he remained a fascist at heart. 'From beginning to end, one finds in him a fascistic strain that he never belied under any regime,' Serra explains, 'in particular a taste for force, the only real ideology of a man who disdained all ideologies.' Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
New York Times
an hour ago
- New York Times
A Chef Loved a Painter's Work So Much, She Cooked a Meal Inspired by It
The Paris-based chef Rose Chalalai Singh doesn't remember when she first saw the work of Niko Pirosmani, only the awe it inspired in her. Born in 1862, the self-taught Georgian artist painted animals, portraits and scenes of country life, including rustic outdoor banquets. In one work, 'Feast at Vintage Time' (date unknown), men with mustaches sit Last Supper style on the far side of a table covered with a white cloth while a waiter presents them with a roast bird and a trio of musicians serenades them. On the left side of the tableau, a man stomps on grapes to make more wine, and on the right, a bear walks on its hind legs. This is Singh's favorite type of Pirosmani painting. 'It's all about celebration and hosting and imagination,' she says. The piece illustrates a supra, or a traditional Georgian feast, but also shows the kind of gathering — memorable for both its food and bonhomie — that she tries to create herself. Singh is best known for opening the Paris restaurants Ya Lamaï and Rose Kitchen, beloved for their homey but perfectly executed dishes such as pomelo salad, mango sticky rice, steamed sea bass with Thai herbs and coconut pudding. In 2023 she decided to transform the latter, now set in a former sculpture studio in the Bastille, into a headquarters for her consulting and catering outfit as well as a private dining space. The shift away from daily service has allowed Singh, 45, to follow her instincts in less expected directions. Earlier that year, she traveled to Georgia to stay with her friend Keti Toloraia, 44, a co-founder of the Tbilisi interior design firm Rooms Studio. On the first day of her trip, Singh visited the Georgian National Gallery and lingered over the works by Pirosmani. 'She was obsessed, talking only about him,' says Toloraia. Then Singh got an idea: What if she hosted a party that recreated elements of Pirosmani's feast paintings, right down to the roast pig, yellow flowers and maybe even the view of mountains in the distance? She ran it by George Ramishvili, 58, the founder of Silk Road Group, a Georgian investment company with a hospitality arm, who gamely offered up the nearly 200-acre Tsinandali Estate, in the country's winemaking province of Kakheti. Irakli Asatiani, 38, the executive chef at Silk Hospitality, agreed to collaborate on the food. So, last July, Singh set off for Georgia again, to be with friends old and new. - A Danish jewelry designer's long midsummer lunch. - In the Caribbean, a couple's laid-back birthday party with their young son. - A group of trans artists and activists' Filipino feast on Fire Island. - In a Georgian vineyard, a meal inspired by a painting. - A guide to sharing a vacation rental (and remaining friends with your housemates). - Chefs' favorite recipes for large groups. - An easy, crowd-pleasing cocktail to make in big batches. In the lead-up to the meal, Singh, Asatiani and their assistants gathered ingredients, prepared dough, marinated meat and preheated the tone, a traditional round oven where they cooked a suckling pig stuffed — in an example of Thai-Georgian fusion — with lemongrass and lime leaves. In the late afternoon, at a long table positioned beneath an oak tree, the guests feasted, talked, laughed and eventually danced. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
