Latest news with #FrançoiseHardy
Vogue
27-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Vogue
Saint Laurent Pre-Fall 2025 Collection
Should you ever need a quick musical pick me up, I can highly recommend watching the divine Françoise Hardy perform her fabbo 1966 song Je changerais d'avis on YouTube. It's totally her, a wonderfully rousing symphonic number. And then there's the performance itself, all shiny Pop Art jackets and that blunt-banged, straight-shanked hair of hers blowing (via wind machine) whenever the chorus kicks in. Back in 1966, pop belonged to the US and the UK, but along came Hardy, putting French music—and more specifically, French women vocalists—on the map, not to mention that iconically lanky, androgynous look of hers which lives on to this day. Yet 1966 is also notable for another French phenomenon: the launch by Yves Saint Laurent of his Rive Gauche ready-to-wear label. (The house had been strictly haute couture up till that point.) It changed everything; fashion would no longer be driven by the hauteur of the Parisian couture salon, but the pulsating energy of the street, right across the world. It's those two moments that Anthony Vaccarello brings into a coolly chic conversation with this collection, mining the first Rive Gauche offerings for their contemporary relevance (the ease, the modernity, the lack of fuss, and, oh, the checks) with Françoise Hardy's eternally cool appeal, a kind of casual, boyish, shrug of the shoulders style that could make the dressed-up and the dressed-down coexist in perfect harmony. For Vaccarello, it comes down to a few key ideas, looks, and pieces. There are the big, bold, and—here's a word they wouldn't have used back in 1966—badass leather jackets, with everything from Kurt Cobain-esque tartan shirting to Catherine Deneuve (circa the 1980s) gleaming croc-effect pencil skirts. Another tailoring option: vintage-y blousons, atop inverted pleat checked skirts, the uber-bourgeois vibe amped up with the substantial, statement-y gilt bangles and earrings. Amongst the seriously good jackets on offer, Vaccarello also found the time to turn out a masculin/feminin 1970s blazer, again in one of his ubiquitous checks (from plaid to Prince of Wales). It would look absolutely terrific with the more quotidian pairing of jeans, but here he plays it off against dramatic, evening-y floor length ruffled skirts that are scissored away face on to be much shorter: party at the front, ballgown at the back. To underscore the idea of easiness, instead of frou-frou blouses, those trailing, couture-like skirts were also partnered with tees and sweaters. That's how Vaccarello has transported his Saint Laurent back to that pivotal year of 1966, while also being entirely cognizant that nearly 60 years have passed. There's a tacit acknowledgement that women's lives are in a very different place (we certainly all hope) from where they were back then, and really, obviously, so is fashion. Today it's about designing clothes that can walk the line between reality and fantasy, and the responsibility that comes with that, especially at a house laden with history. Even when Vaccarello goes into a more boudoir vibe with his lingerie inspired dresses, they're slipped under oversized coats and worn with vertiginous leather boots. The message remains the same however: We still need clothes we can dream about, now maybe more than ever, but fashion is really something to be loved, worn, and lived in. Just don't, please, overthink it.
New York Times
18-02-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
A Soundtrack to a Fabulous Memoir Crackling With Music
Image Françoise Hardy holds special meaning for the writer Lucy Sante. Credit... Evening Standard/Hulton Archive, via Getty Images I read a lot of books about music. When I'm really enjoying one, sometimes I'll make a playlist of songs mentioned in its pages to stave off that bittersweet feeling that always comes upon finishing a satisfying read. That way, I can always crawl back into a book's atmosphere just by pressing play. The book that inspired today's playlist, the cultural critic Lucy Sante's 'I Heard Her Call My Name,' isn't about music per se. As its subtitle attests, it is mostly 'a memoir of transition,' centered around Sante's decades of gender dysphoria and her eventual coming out as a trans woman in 2021, in her late 60s. The experience 'cracks open the world' for her, as she eloquently puts it. I found it a gorgeously written, admirably honest book, and I'm not alone in that opinion: The New York Times Book Review named 'I Heard Her Call My Name' one of the 10 best books of 2024, and in a laudatory review, Dwight Garner wrote of Sante, 'Her sharpness and sanity, moodiness and skepticism are the appeal.' But another potent part of the book's appeal is the way Sante depicts culture — and music in particular — playing a vital role in her lifelong journey to becoming more herself. (That she is such a sharp cultural observer will come as no surprise to anyone who has read any of her other books, like the New York chronicle 'Low Life' or the collection 'Kill All Your Darlings.') Eye-opening avant-garde art beckons her to New York as a teenager, and the pulsating sounds of the city — from groundbreaking artists like ESG and Grandmaster Flash — provide a soundtrack to her 20s and 30s. Sante uses music to bring long-gone New York haunts back to life (like a certain bar where the Fall is always on the jukebox) and, eventually, thanks to her childhood idol Françoise Hardy, to arrive at the version of femininity that resonates most deeply with her. If you haven't read this book yet, I highly recommend it. And if you have, may this playlist bring you back to the distinct atmosphere between its pages. Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times. Thank you for your patience while we verify access. Already a subscriber? Log in. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
