Irenebrination: Notes on Architecture, Art, Fashion, Fashion Law, Science & Technology

Right to Repair: What if Garments and Accessories Were Sold with Repair Kits and Manuals?

Nowadays it is utterly frustrating to own a technological device – from smartphones to videogame consoles – and not to be able to repair it by yourself. Many of us lack the skills to do so, but, most times, the warranties of such appliances feature a clause reminding users that any attempt at repairing the device by themselves will invalidate that same warranty (usually consumers are entitled to receive support from an official customer service linked to the producer).

To this end, some manufacturers make sure your technological device is perfectly sealed into a sleek cover, resembling the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey, looking polished, mysterious and inaccessible, like an alien artefact. Manufacturers also create an air of exclusivity and secrecy surrounding a device's inner workings as if knowing what goes on inside your smartphone was something that only members of a dedicated sect should know.

Under EU law, manufacturers are not required to provide technical information (such as manuals and service handbooks) to consumers, nor are they required to provide consumers with spare parts. Only professional repairers have indeed a guaranteed right to access the technical information and the spare parts, and only for some products. But concerns about the environment have pushed consumers to change their attitudes to repair: a growing number of consumers now would like to repair products by themselves (as opposed to being required to use the official repair shops).

The European Commission has been researching the issue: in 2018, a study on consumers' engagement in the circular economy showed higher rates of repair, taking into account different products, from a dishwasher and a mobile phone to a coat or a jacket. For most consumers, though, reparability was less important than durability. At the same time, consumers also stated they were ready to pay more for better reparability.

At the moment, there are communities of repair enthusiasts all over the world often supported by dedicated forums and YouTube videos. Besides, in March 2023, the European Commission should issue new regulations regarding consumer legislation on repair and introduce an effective "right to repair".

Some companies are actually working to guarantee this right: Nokia has just released the G22, a DIY repairable budget Android phone partially made of recycled plastic and with 128GB of storage (price: under €200; prices vary for what regards the parts, the screen for example, is the most expensive at €49,95). The device, serviceable with standard tools (a blessing, considering that finding the repair tools that can open bizarrely shaped screws is usually a time consuming effort that drives many repair enthusiasts crazy), can be easily fixed thanks to a removable back and the internal components including screen, battery and charging port can be easily unscrewed and changed. Besides, in addition to a professional repair service, consumers will be guaranteed access to repair guides and genuine parts available for five years via specialists iFixit.

Apart from being a handy solution, such a device can also have an educational purpose, helping younger smartphone users to discover how a device works and getting interested in the technology behind it with a hands-on approach.

The EU Commission's "Right to Repair" proposal and this smartphone take us to the next issue: shouldn't we foster this trend also in the fashion industry? It is true that, in the last few years, mending and repairing have been on the agenda of many of us. After all, there are now free tutorials to learn basic skills, from replacing a button to alter the hem of a skirt/dress.

But what if even designer clothes would be assembled cleverly, so that one item came in a pattern that allowed people to disassemble that piece and modify it? Or what if the garment came with a manual suggesting consumers what they could do with it once they get tired of it? Yes, some of us have endless imagination and maybe already dispose of unwanted items in clever ways, recycling the materials or passing the garments onto other family members or friends. That said, what if garments and accessories came with hacking/repairing kits?

Some companies (especially luxury houses) offer customer service support in case a piece (imagine a designer handbag) gets damaged. But it would be intriguing to see if consumers' habits would change further if even those brands selling more affordable pieces would offer repairing services, encouraged consumers to repair their items or even sold them with kits including a darning loom (handy to mend or repair fabrics, a darning loom can be a useful object to keep in the house to come up with contrasting patches and unique embroideries and cover in this way stains and marks).

Lifestyle brand Toast, for example, encourages consumers to repair their items for free at their in-store repair services. The company also launched a "Renewed Collection", featuring clothing and home textiles from the company's shops that come with minor damages such as tears, holes and flaws renewed with creative mending made by the company's in-house repair team of specialists.

Most designs, from jumpers and trousers to sweaters and home textiles, are repaired using stitching techniques such as Japanese sashiko (currently trending on the A/W 23 runways) or using material offcuts to patch and elevate the items.

In 1943 the Ministry of Information in Great Britain launched the "Make Do and Mend" campaign urging people to repair, reuse and reimagine their existing clothes during the Second World War.

We don't need to directly experience a war to develop this attitude, but we can learn to add that kintsugi touch to our clothes to make them more beautiful and find intriguing solutions to repair and mend in fun ways our wardrobes and our less-than-perfect lives.

Artificial Intelligence (AI) Assisted Writing Tools' Greatest Adversaries & Fans at the Moment? Crochet & Knitting Artists

Hands up who has been putting to the test the patience of their favourite AI text-to-image applications, feeding bots with the most impossible prompts and then keeping on tweaking the generated images for hours. There's probably quite a few of us out there, but it looks like there are also rather unsuspectable people among us, exasperating ChatGPT – crafters, and in particular crochet and knitting enthusiasts and fiber artists.

Rather than asking the popular AI-based text generator to do their homework and write essays for school, for a few months now, crafters have been asking ChatGPT to produce patterns for knitwear and crochet designs.

TikTok is currently full of short videos about what can ChatGPT do for arty crochet and knitting projects. Some TikTok users only generated patterns, others went through the effort of actually creating the designs suggested by the AI. The results are rather surprising.

Earlier on this year, TikTok user and textile artist Alexandra Woolner (Generated Crochet account on TikTok), asked ChatGPT to produce the pattern for a narwhal amigurumi. 

Her prompt was: "Write me a crochet pattern for a narwhal stuffed animal using worsted weight yarn". The application provided instructions that seemed to respect the language of the crochet pattern with abbreviations ("Ch" for "chain"; "sc" for "single crochet") and symbols (such as (*) indicating a repetition).

Woolner followed the pattern, but the results were disappointing and she called the final craft, "AI generated narwhal crochet monstrosity". Yet other users seemed to like the experiment: fans dubbed the little narwhal Gerald and the original video hit over 900,000 views (at the time of writing this post), with mixed comments and with some users highlighting how this was the proof that the AI wasn't good at generating art.

Woolner didn't desist, though, and prompted ChatGPT to generate more patterns, including one for a cat and another for an octopus that, she says, has "booby eyes". Other crochet enthusiasts on TikTok started suggesting her ideas for her patterns and even started buying her handmade renditions of Gerald. Woolner is also selling the downloadable pattern for Gerald for users who want to make their own nonsensical narwahl.

Other crochet fans on TikTok had very different experiences: Lily Lanario, a London-based crocheter, has been developing a series of amigurumi with patterns made by ChatGPT with mixed results. Lanario has so far done a convincing frog (with too many limbs, though, if you look at it from one side…), a very accurate rendition of Jigglypuff from Pokemon, a frighteningly scary version of Pikachu and an eyeless cat with an uncanny body.

ChatGPT reproduces the abbreviations standing for different stitch types, but tends to turn them into weird strings of codes that, once translated into stitches do not make sense. Apparently, there are specific reasons why ChatGPT produces inconsistent patterns and this is not because it received very few training data.

The coded language of crochet and knitting instructions should be easier to understand for an application using code, but it's not as simple as that.

In reality, AI applications struggle with patterns because there are numbers included, something that Artificial Intelligence finds harder to elaborate than words, as AI applications are trained on texts and not on numbers and they tend to predict which words come after each other (ChatGPT is a Large Language Model and, as you may remember from a previous post, LLMs are artificial intelligence tools that have the ability to read, summarise and translate texts and predict future words in a sentence by generating sentences similar to how humans talk and write).

To put it simply, ChatGPT, like many of us, is simply bad at maths (knowing that the AI struggles with ratios and numbers makes it suddenly more human to our eyes…). So ChatGPT creates the crocheting or knitting pattern trying to predict what may come after and eventually failing at it (would it become more precise if the AI app were trained with crochet patterns with complete words rather than abbreviations and numbers written down as words?).

Yet some of the experiments carried out by Lanario led her to prove that ChatGPT can actually rework and improve instructions, adding elements that it had forgotten in a previous version of the pattern (the pattern generated for the cat was missing its eyes, even though the instructions inconsistently mentioned the eyes towards the end; quite often when asked to generate amigurumi ChatGPT seems to forget to include the eyes or doesn't explicitly say where to put them, or suggests to stitch two parts of the body of an animal together in an incongruous way – yet these are minor mistakes as you can figure that out and reattach the parts where you think they should go…).

But stories about ChatGPT and crocheting have sparked a debate among experts as well: Margaret Wertheim, a physicist and a science author, and part of the team behind the Crochet Coral Reef project, highlights that ChatGPT doesn't understand crochet instructions because it can’t imagine they represent a physical object. Daina Taimina, a Latvian mathematician, retired adjunct associate professor of mathematics at Cornell University and author of Crocheting Adventures with Hyperbolic Planes, proposed maybe a more interesting and simpler solution - instructions given for the amigurumi animals done so far weren't good enough.

Giving specific instructions to AI apps generates indeed the best results (if you go on Midjourney's general chats, you realise that the most accurate prompts with precise adjectives, instructions about the light and information about ratios, produce very detailed images). Woolner then tried to improve the instructions for Gerald, but ChatGPT came up with more complex instructions that included more stitches than needed, something that produced an even more nonsensical piece than the previous one.

What’s remarkable and surprising in all the stories involving AI applications is the fact that they progress pretty fast: nonsensical patterns may indeed become more reliable little by little. ChatGPT has anyway progressed compared to previous systems and seems to be able to remember different parts in a crocheted animal (albeit the main body always seem to be a sphere of some sort, often with another sphere attached for the head).

In 2019, a bot called HAT3000 was trained to create crocheted hats. Despite having been trained with several hundred patterns, one day it created a piece that didn't make any sense. Its developer, AI experimenter and writer Janelle Shane eventually understood that - without having been trained on Taimina's crocheted model of non-Euclidean geometry, made increasing the number of stitches at a constant rate to create a hyperbolic plane - the system had started imitating it.

Trained on hat patterns that got bigger with each row, the AI grasped the concept of adding stitches and started producing hats that didn’t make sense. ChatGPT doesn't seem to have adopted this habit of adding stitches, even though in the second narwhal pattern it did add some stitches.

Yet, so far, we have looked at amigurumi patterns, finding it hilarious the way AI apps positions body parts and paws, but what about other types of patterns? Would artificial intelligence produce something better if encouraged to create a series of granny squares?

Blog Crochet Concupiscence tried to make an owl amigurumi that came out as a head with wings that resembled massive floppy ears. The blog crocheters also made a granny square with a pattern that proved extremely difficult to read and produced a kite shape with a raised ball at the center.

But which would be the applications of the patterns created by ChatGPT? Well, they could be created to experiment more and come up with a human-machine collaboration. Will AI take over fiber art? Too early to say, but expect some experiments will be showcases sometimes soon in art exhibitions (that will probably start having sections dedicated to AI-generated art).

In a way, it would also be possible to create incredible images of crocheted/knitted pieces with an AI text-to-image application and then work out a way to do the stitches by yourself, even though that would be a long and complex process that only advanced crocheters and knitters may want to venture in.

Whatever happens, you have a feeling that soon we will have pocket books about ugly crochet creatures made with AI. After all, Miuccia Prada made a living out of ugly chic, crochet artists collaborating with AI applications may try earning a living with hilarious or simply ugly amigurumi. Or what about redeveloping a Nintendo knitwear system that works with AI applications? The possibilities may be endless.

The twist in the tail of this story? None of us probably ever expected that the greatest adversaries, but also the greatest fans of ChatGPT, an application that has been worrying many teachers out there, would have been crafters and crochet, knitting and textile artists.

A final note: if you buy AI-generated patterns online always get them from certified sources as scammers involved in "get rich quick" schemes using AI may be trying generating faulty crochet patterns that would be impossible to make and you would realise only after buying the pattern that it's useless.

From a Fashionable Orthopaedic Corset to Medical Inspirations & Designs

If you've ever had problems with your back, you fractured a vertebrae or were operated in your abdomen, you may be familiar with corsets and binders that, closing with a large Velcro strap, are designed to guarantee support and compression following a series of traumas and operations, including abdominal plastic surgery, tummy tuck, hernia surgery or abdomen liposuction. While they are usually worn underneath ordinary clothes, it is also possible to wear them on top of another garment.

Dolce & Gabbana seemed to reference orthopaedic girdles in their men's A/W 23 collection, but, in the women's collection, showcased yesterday during Milan Fashion Week, the orthopaedic or post-operative thread continued with a black Velcro bustier (a reference to abdominal plastic surgery or tummy tuck, maybe?) matched with a black leather jacket and with a long sheer dress. The bustier, that also featured the logo of the design duo, seemed inspired by orthopaedic corsets and also featured double Velcro straps.

Those of us who had some experience in wearing orthopaedic corsets will immediately link this design to their binders; others lucky enough to have avoided an operation or a trauma of some kind, will instead spot in it a practical corset that can be strapped with Velcro. Yet it doesn't really matter what you'll see in this design, because it is probably more important to move from this connection and explore further the orthopaedic or medical theme.

It would be interesting if fashion designers would have enough time to experiment in other fields as well, maybe collaborating with doctors to develop innovative medical accessories and garments.

Nobody needs a branded post-operative corset, but there are some devices that could become more comfortable and maybe more invisible or more fun if reimagined by a designer - imagine colourful compression tights or more comfortable post-operative vascular surgery monocollants that would improve a patient's self-esteem.

Collaboration is the norm nowadays, but it is usually done between brands, it would instead be more intriguing to develop designs with scientists and doctors, or even with institutions like the Wellcome Collection in London.

If you're a fashion designer, you will make fascinating, exciting and curious discoveries in its archives, getting the chance to be inspired by texts, images and objects from the medical practice and beyond.

The collection also includes quite a few orthopaedic accessories: one of the earliest is an orthopaedic corset made of perforated iron, secured by shoulder straps and featuring hinges at both sides and locks at the front. Fitting an adult male (from 1601-1800 ) the corset was designed to correct skeletal abnormalities.

In the collection there are also orthopaedic iron corsets from the 1800s for children, built almost like a cage that enclosed the chest and the back and worn to support the spine and gradually improve posture.

Dolce & Gabbana's A/W 23 collection features also a shiny corset with two locks on the front (this is not the first time the duo includes such a design in a collection) that finds correspondences in other pieces at the Wellcome Collection, in particular a brass corset used to minimise the waist or as an orthopaedic device to support the back, and another brass corset from the 1800s with holes drilled into the sides to lighten the weight and provide ventilation. This corset supported the back or corrected a spinal deformity such as scoliosis (while minimising the waist).

Until the 1870s and 1880s both men and women regularly wore corsets. Army officers even wore them with tightly tailored uniforms to emphasise their straight backs and rigid discipline and the Wellcome Collection archive also features a variety of caricatures about corsets (in one of them a dandy is being fit into a corset by a young Black man and a hairdresser) and photographs like the one of Con Oram lacing A.P. Holland in drag into a boned corset in a show for the Bow Bells concert party.

As you can see, a medical inspiration can lead us to a multi-layered research with some utterly unexpected but very stimulating results, so always think laterally and find inspirations in unusual places, especially in fields you may not be familiar with.

For those of you who are temporarily orthopaedically impaired and are currently wearing a post-operative Velcro corset, endure the discomfort and, once you've finished wearing it, don't throw it out, but disassemble it and reinvent it a bit adding lacing details, tulle and, why not, even some gems and crystals. Come next season you'll be trendier than the models on D&G's runway.

Real Jobs, Real Lives, But No Real People: Prada A/W 23

Workwear and uniforms have always been great fashion inspirations and they returned in Prada's A/W 23 collection, entitled "Taking Care" and showcased on Thursday during Milan Fashion Week.

That's actually not a surprise considering that Miuccia Prada has always been partial to uniforms, a staple of the Italian fashion house that often appeared on the runway season after season. Yet, one of the main inspirations for the new collection didn't come from uniforms but from those who wear them.

Nurses inspired the opening looks with white skirts that went through a Haute Couture treatment: mini, pencil and full skirts, featured embellishments similar to crocheted doilies, origami-like flowers (also used on exaggeratedly pointy ballet flats with folded bows), three-dimensional elements, stems and petals.

Simons indicated the designs were almost as richly decorated as wedding dresses (intended also as another uniform), but the skirts were matched with simple crewneck sweaters in grey and navy blue for a functional touch.

Military uniforms provided instead ideas for shirtdresses and shirts with front pockets and ties and architectural epaulets that looked like minimalist bows folded on themselves.

The shirts were matched with functional high waisted, skinny pants, with creases in front, but the military side of the collection also saw the return of the parkas and navy duffel coats going from extra-long to cropped seen on the men's A/W 23 runway.

Another link with the men's collection was represented by the shirtless blazers with detachable pointy collars and the collarless cropped spherical bomber jacket that looked like a pillow, matched with a duvet-like skirt that also came in its micro version.

The camel and navy blue capes offered a further connection with the military, but also with nursing personnel, providing a Second World War era reference.

The collection closed with elongated starch and crisp nurse-white shirtdresses and medical scrubs (another staple on Prada’s runways) cut close to the body. Some of them featured epaulets, pockets and logos; all of them incorporated a train to elevate a nurse's traditional wardrobe.

Among the most memorable nurses in the history of fashion, there are Marc Jacobs' reinterpretation of Richard Prince's paintings of nurses in Louis Vuitton S/S 2008 collection, but those ones had a disquieting vibe about them.

The nurses' uniforms on Prada's runway with their clean and minimalist lines and rigorous details were more reminiscent of Pierre Cardin's colourful nurses uniforms from 1970 with a minor yet relevant difference: Cardin tried to imagine nurses' uniforms in the future (the long tunic-like uniforms provided a connection with this collection; other designs he came up with were simply not appropriate for the job; as the New York Times wrote in 1970: "One thing most nurses and administrators agree on is that Pierre Cardin's controversial new nurse's uniform.. .a short white loin cloth...with a breast baring top...will not be a big hit"). Prada is adding couture details or reinventing a nurse's uniforms for a luxury buyer.

Which takes us to what co-creative directors Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons stated about this collection: by adding couture details to utilitarian clothes, they wanted to pay respect to working people, giving importance to real jobs. Focused on reality, as highlighted also when interviewed about the men's A/W 23 collection, Prada reiterated she cared about modest jobs.

It's impossible to disagree with this vision, this intention of paying respect to real people through the beauty of simple garments that represent the uniforms of workers.

But here's exactly where the problem of this collection lies: Prada and Simons talked to the press about valueing "modest jobs, simple jobs, and not only extreme beauty or glamour".

In the somber first anniversary of the war in Ukraine, many fashion commentators found it appropriate and that surely is. Yet, there is at the same time something deeply unnerving and rather annoying when a designer tells you they are creating a wardrobe for "real people", yet the real people they mention are the same people who would get snubbed by the house's PR officers at the doors of a fashion show.

They are the same people they would laugh at in the street for wearing unstylish clothes; they are the same people who do not get into their boutiques not only because the shop assistants would look at them with contempt and disregard, but, first and foremost, because they can't afford anything they sell.

The categories allegedly represented on the runway, especially nurses, simply do not make enough money to get the freedom of choice to buy an original Prada design. Sure, you can save towards it, put it on your credit card and break the bank, but this will mean sacrifices towards bills, food and other general expenses (and that's just if you're single, because, if you have children, things get even more complicated…).

So, you look at the collection, read the feedback from Prada and Simons and there is just one thing that comes to your mind: Jarvis Cocker singing "Common People".

Pulp's 1996 hit about an entitled young woman studying sculpture at London's Central St. Martins, wishing to live "like common people", but knowing deep down that her father could rescue her any time out of poverty and dire conditions, seems to summarise pretty well the mood of this collection.

The protagonist of the song takes her to the supermarket and urges her to pretend she hasn't got any money; maybe we should take Prada, Simons and any other designer working for a luxury house thinking they are creating for "real people" with "real jobs" to a supermarket, a food bank, an Accident & Emergency, a hospital, a care facility or to any other ordinary location populated by real people to see what's real life is about.

So, let them believe they created a collection for "real people", even when their real people are probably K-pop stars, the influencers they feed and dress up and the celebrities who live and thrive on the red carpet, people who would use the designs in the collection to do a haute couture nurse cosplay (well, it goes well with the poverty chic trend for people who don't live in poverty or the distressed luxury style for the fakely disenfranchised).

Prada and Simons may value ordinary people, but their press office maybe didn't read the memo as the humanity occupying the front row didn't belong to the workers celebrated in the collection.

There wasn't certainly a single ordinary person or a nurse among Chinese singer-songwriter Cai Xukun, South Korean pop star Jeon Somi, pop star Dua Lipa, actress Claire Foy and social media personality Charli D'Amelio.

Sure, it is not to the duty of fashion designers to solve the complex social and financial issues of out modern world, but producing a collection that is allegedly designed for real people but that real people can't buy, is a bit like the proverbial "Qu'ils mangent de la brioche" ("Let them eat cake").

In conclusion, Prada and Simons may not have the frivolous disregard for the starving peasants or the poor of a heartless aristocratic queen (after all, in 2020, at the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic in Italy, after receiving a request from the Tuscany region, Prada started producing sanitary masks and medical overalls for health-care personnel in Montone and the company donated six intensive care units to Milan's Vittore Buzzi, Sacco and San Raffaele hospitals), but, after a collection is presented, any well-meaning tribute fades away and we all go back to our tasks - nurses to their hard jobs, designers in their ivory towers dreaming of common people and whoever is sitting in the front row posing for the photographers.

Art as a Fashion Backdrop: Joan Mitchell Foundation Vs Louis Vuitton

When visiting an exhibition or a museum, we often do not resist taking a selfie next to a work of art that we like or using it as a backdrop. Our desire to do so may be prompted by our appreciation of that particular artist or by our thirst to trigger the envy of our friends on social media (or, if you’re an influencer, by the will to show an ensemble is perfectly co-ordinated with a work of art you don't know anything about…). Yet, if you wanted to use that picture for commercial purposes (say for a book or a record cover), you would have to ask for the permission of the artist who made the work, their estate or the museum where the piece is preserved.

The fair use of artworks in commercial images is a theme that came up in the news this week when it was announced that, on Tuesday, the Joan Mitchell Foundation (JMF) sent a cease-and-desist letter to the Paris headquarters of Louis Vuitton asking to withdraw the French luxury brand's campaign showing three images of French actress Léa Seydoux with a Capucines handbag, posing in front of three works by the American abstract artist.

The paintings used include Mitchell's "La Grande Vallée XIV (For a Little While)" (1983), "Quatuor II for Betsy Jolas" (1976) and "Edrita Fried" (1981). The artworks, characterised by a bright and intense palette reflecting Mitchell's search for colour and light, appear in cropped images for the ads, but without credit to Mitchell or her foundation. The works were indeed used without authorization.

According to the Joan Mitchell Foundation, that promotes the study of the works of the late artist, last December Vuitton approached it to request permission to use works by the artist in an upcoming advertising campaign. The request was declined by JMF "in accordance with its longstanding policy that images of the artist's work be used only for educational purposes," as highlighted in the official statement on the foundation's site (JMF has a limited commercial use that regards the merchandise linked to an exhibition).

Louis Vuitton asked again for the permission in January - one request also came on behalf of Jean-Paul Claverie, an adviser to Bernard Arnault, chief executive of LVMH. The email highlighted the request came from Arnault and also offered a donation to the Joan Mitchell Foundation, but JMF declined again. Yet, while the Foundation never licensed the artist's works for use in commercial campaigns or for the promotion of other goods or services, Vuitton went ahead with the campaign that first appeared in the New York Times Sunday Style section on February 12, as well as online.

"It is a grave disappointment to JMF that Louis Vuitton has such disregard for the rights of an artist and would exploit her work for financial gain," JMF added in the official statement.

One interesting point in this story is that Joan Mitchell is currently the subject of an exhibition at the Fondation Louis Vuitton in Paris, an entity legally separate from Louis Vuitton Malletier, both owned by LVMH, the French multinational luxury conglomerate.

Entitled "Monet-Mitchell" (closing February 27), the event is a dialogue between Claude Monet and Joan Mitchell and the three paintings in question are part of this exhibition.

Aside from this event, the Fondation Louis Vuitton also organised a Joan Mitchell retrospective - in collaboration with the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA) and the Baltimore Museum of Art (BAM) - to raise public awareness of Joan Mitchell's work.

In a way it looks as if Louis Vuitton Malletier had legitimate rights to use the artwork exhibited at its Fondation, since the group owning it had invested in an art exhibition.

So this counts as two violations, as LVMH-owned Louis Vuitton infringed the copyrights of the artist, while the Fondation Louis Vuitton violated its agreement with JMF as the images feature paintings from the exhibition and the photographs also appear to have been taken at the Fondation Louis Vuitton during the Mitchell exhibition. 

There's another note that should be added: Louis Vuitton established itself as a patron of the arts through a series of collaborations and advertising campaigns, and often releases capsules with artists, creating unique accessories inspired by their works (think about Jeff Koons, Takashi Murakami or, more recently, Yayoi Kusama). In the adverts Seydoux poses with Capucines handbags, some of which sell for $10,500. As the paintings are prominently featured in the advert, consumers may think this was another collaboration, this time with JMF, something that mistaken consumers may deem inappropriate with the mission of the late artist's Foundation. 

It is somehow astonishing and rather irritating that a fashion company that has its own department for pursuing intellectual property disputes and a dedicated page entitled "Brand Protection" in which it highlights it has a zero tolerance policy to counterfeiting, protects creativity ("preserving the creativity and the rights of designers, artists, and brands is vital to their long-term survival," the site states) and claims that in 2017 only it "initiated more than 38,000 anti-counterfeiting procedures worldwide", behaves in this way towards an artist. It looks indeed as if the protection of copyrights only applies to its brand and not to other people's works. 

"If Louis Vuitton does not promptly halt this campaign and cease the illegal use of Mitchell's artworks, JMF will promptly take further legal action to address this matter," the Joan Mitchell Foundation concludes on its website (in case, it will send a separate cease-and-desist letter to the Fondation Louis Vuitton for breaching its agreement regarding the display of the paintings).

But if the case goes to court, JMF will have an easy win as there are many precedents that rewarded artists: in 2018 artist Anish Kapoor filed a copyright infringement lawsuit against the National Rifle Association (NRA) for using an image of his Cloud Gate work in Chicago's Millennium Park in an advert. Kapoor eventually reached an out-of-court settlement and also obtained that the unauthorized image of his work was removed from the video. Louis Vuitton, the Fondation Louis Vuitton and LVMH may have all the money in the world to hire the best lawyers, but, in this case, complying with JMF's requests and looking for an agreement, would be the only sensible way out of this situation.   

Image credits for this post

1. Joan Mitchell, La Grande Vallée XIV (For a Little While), 1983 © Estate of Joan Mitchell.

4. Joan Mitchell, Edrita Fried, 1981 © Estate of Joan Mitchell.

5. Joan Mitchell, Quatuor II for Betsy Jolas, 1976 © Estate of Joan Mitchell.

AI-Generated Images Not Copyrightable Says U.S. Copyright Office

Let's continue the Artificial Intelligence (AI) thread started in yesterday's post analyzing the case of Kristina Kashtanova's AI-generated graphic novel that was refused copyright registration this week.

Kashtanova, a former software engineer, wrote the text of the book Zarya of the Dawn, but the artwork accompanying the story was AI-generated using the Midjourney platform, a detail originally not disclosed in the copyright application. The U.S. Copyright Office ("USCO") issued a registration for Zarya in September 2022, but started reconsidering it at the end of October.

The office alerted Kashtanova, highlighting that, according to the Copyright Office policy, an author must be human, as established by the Code of Federal Regulations 37 CFR § 201.7 (c) (1).

The latter states that a registration may be cancelled "Where the Copyright Office becomes aware after registration that a work is not copyrightable, either because the authorship is insufficiently creative or the work does not contain authorship subject to copyright" (a rule that was applied to the "monkey selfies" case that took place between 2011 and 2018, when there were disputes about the copyright status of selfies taken by Celebes crested macaques using equipment belonging to the British nature photographer David Slater. The photographer stated he held the copyright, but the United States Copyright Office stated that works created by a non-human, such as a photograph taken by a monkey, are not copyrightable). The Office gave Kashtanova 30 days to provide details and show there was significant human participation in the creation of Zarya.

In a letter dated Tuesday, the USCO decided the images should not have been granted copyright protection. According to the Copyright Office, the images generated using Midjourney technology "are not the product of human authorship" and the platform can't be compared to other tools used by artists and therefore must be treated differently when it comes to copyright issues as Midjourney's specific output cannot be predicted by users.

Midjourney is a text-to-image application that produces images in response to a prompt written by the user. The application produces four different images, all of them based on Midjourney's training data. Additional prompts can be added and the image can be upscaled or the user can be required variations to be done, but the user can't predict the results, even though they can tweak them.

Kashtanova explained the Copyright Office that she had fed the application thousands of prompts, tweaked the images, generated further intermediate pictures and, eventually, through a process of trial-and-error, obtained the final images.

Yet the USCO still highlighted that it was Midjourney that had created those images and therefore Midjourney's AI software users can't be considered as "the authors" of those images.

Kashtanova also edited some of the images: the AI-software produced over 2,000 images that were edited in Photoshop and she then used the software Comic Life 3 to lay out the pictures in comic book form, yet some changes were deemed as minor and therefore not offering the necessary copyright protection. However, the USCO highlighted that other substantive edits to intermediate images generated by Midjourney provided human authorship and would therefore not be excluded from the new registration certificate.

The Office in the end allowed copyright protection for the novel's text (that was written by Kashtanova without the help of any AI applications) and for the way the images were "selected, refined, cropped, positioned, framed, and arranged" to create the story. A new certificate covering only these materials was therefore issued.This is not the first case involving Artificial Intelligence and copyright: in 2019 a board reviewed a ruling against Steven Thaler, a software engineer and the CEO of Imagination Engines, Inc and the creator of the AI platform, DABUS (Device for the Autonomous Bootstrapping of Unified Sentience).

Thaler, who also applied for patent protection for a DABUS-created invention (but an inventor must be an individual, so the protection wasn't granted...), tried to copyright in 2018 an AI-created image entitled "A Recent Entrance to Paradise" and picturing a fictional narrative about the afterlife. On the copyright application, the author was listed as "Creativity Machine," an A.I. software. Thaler was listed as the owner of the copyright because he is the owner of the software.

Yet, as the image didn't include an element of "human authorship", Thaler was refused the copyright and, in June 2022, he filed a case in the District of Columbia asking to overturn USCO's decision. In that case Thaler argued that he could own the copyright as the computer was the artist and produced under circumstances similar to "work for hire" contracts with the hired artist listed as the author but the company still owning the copyright. In February this year Thaler's request was rejected, while the decision of the USCO was considered as "reasonably and consistently with the law".

These case highlight that, with the rise in popularity of AI generative software such as Midjourney, Dall-E and ChatGPT, we will see more copyright cases and more legal issues to solve (think about the growing number of lawsuits regarding the unauthorized use of various types of works to train AI generators and the practice of "scraping" , that is combing the Internet with a software collecting data from a variety of sources). Just like the Hermès Vs Metabirkin case became important for NFTs and trademark applications in real life and in the virtual world, these cases are intriguing as they may lead to the creation of new guidelines regarding AI-generated artworks that would allow to understand if the level of creativity that goes into an image can be deemed as human authorship.

You actually wonder if the decision of the USCO would have been the same if Kashtanova had used not a written prompt, but two or more images created by her, that the Midjourney Bot had combined with the "/blend" prompt. Because, while in this case the result can't still be predicted, the starting points for that final images would have been based on original artwork by the author herself. 

Besides, in yesterday's post, we have seen a campaign by a big brand in which AI software was used to generate images: the pictures include the name and the logo of the brand, and the images were definitely Photoshopped to be able to add these details. Now, in these cases, would the USCO say that these images can be copyrighted as there has been enough human intervention or can we deem them as not subject to be copyrighted as they were made by an AI application?

And what to do now with images generated by AI-software and printed on designer clothes? If a fashion designer employs AI-generated images in their collection, does this mean that those images are not copyrightable and therefore not original enough and can therefore be used by anybody else? And who will own the copyright of the AI-generated images showcased in international events such as the first AI Fashion Week, nobody as those were generated by a machine? In that case any fashion designer could copy those clothes and produce them, after all they are not copyrightable.

In conclusion, while Kashtanova's case closes here, this is just the beginning of an entirely new chapter for copyright law. You can bet that additions and changes will have to be done as soon as possible to decide what is AI-generated artwork, how to register them and what constitutes authorship. 

Glimpsing the Future: Artificial Intelligence on the Runway and in Advertising Campaigns

Esteemed sci-fi publisher Clarkesworld recently halted its open submission option after it received hundreds of pitches of AI-generated stories. According to the publishing house, being among the few ones that would pay for short stories from new writers, it attracted the attention of influencers promoting schemes to make money quickly using AI applications. While in past the house would receive just a few stories that were plagiarized, the advent of ChatGPT meant more work for the publisher that in February this year ended up banning over 500 stories created with the support of AI apps and its "authors".

But if that's what's happening in the world of Artificial Intelligence (AI) assisted writing tools, for the time being fashion seems a little bit more relaxed about AI text-to-image applications.

Christopher Kane's A/W 23 collection, showcased last week during London Fashion Week, featured front frilled vinyl pencil skirts and dresses, floral and weeds embroideries inspired by urban plants that spring up from pavements and by their resilience (a metaphor for growing up in working class Newarthill, outside Glasgow, Scotland) and three long stretch jersey body-con dresses (and one top) with animal prints.

Featuring all-over prints of rosy pigs, white and dark grey mice (ah, the allure of the Ratcatcher...) and cute little chicks, the hyper-real images were created using an AI application, though the designer didn't mention which one (but Midjourney can do pretty good interpretations of the theme, try with piglets, for example - View this photo).

In other cases Artificial Intelligence applications were used to create moods and an advertising campaign. During the fashion week in London, Moncler came up with a monumental event to celebrate its new collection.

Over the years the brand collaborated with a wide range of designers - including Junya Watanabe, Giambattista Valli and Thom Browne - on exclusive lines, but, since 2018, the brand switched its attention onto the Moncler Genius capsules with drops by Richard Quinn, Pierpaolo Piccioli, Simone Rocha, Craig Green, Rick Owens and Jonathan Anderson among the others.

Entitled "The Art of Genius 2023" the event at the Olympia London, a 19th-century exhibition center and event space in West Kensington, wasn't a runway show or an installation, but a massive playground with nine collaborators - Alicia Keys, Pharrell Williams, recently tapped as creative director of Louis Vuitton menswear, Adidas Originals, Mercedes-Benz, Roc Nation by Jay-Z, Palm Angels, Frgmt, Salehe Bembury, and Rick Owens - reinterpreting Moncler's vision. The idea was creating a platform to promote a mix of art, design, music, sport and technology.

During the event, Mercedez Benz presented an artwork consisting in a rather tacky monster vehicle that apparently took one year in the making and that seemed to be partially wrapped up in a puffa silvery jacket on steroids (you wish they had just done an "exclusive" NFT of this artwork to make it physically invisible…).

Alicia Keys headlined the event surrounded by dancers in Moncler gear; Williams presented an installation among green grass with models in functional clothes; Rick Owens opted for a dystopian future with a spaceship defined in the press release as "soundproof steel Sleep Pod".

Frgmt created instead a cuddly space where humans could interact with cute robots, while images inspired by the theme of love and created with the help of AI text-to-image applications were broadcast on giant screens.

Moncler's new campaign was also made with the help of Artificial Intelligence: in 2018 the company developed a campaign exploring the potential bonds between man and machine, and the new visuals take the discourse further.

Maison Meta and Creative Agency WeSayHi collaborated with the brand to create the 14 images featuring models (quite a few of them with their hands in their pockets - a good trick to help the AI avoiding to generate hands with multiple fingers, as it often happens...) wearing futuristic and voluminous puffer jackets and protective vests in bright colours such as royal blue or vivid orange, black, pastel pink and purple.

The images look polished and eye-catching, but they seem to be less mesmerizing than the highly curated images of outerwear inspired by biomimicry posted by artists who employ AI applications in their work.

The massive space and the combination of disciplines confirmed that fashion is shifting towards a new realm in which clothes are just one fraction of the equation and that maybe consumers will not necessary buy anything from a collection, but just get a ticket to be part of an experience with some fashion connections, as if they were going to a concert.

In the last thirty years, fashion shows changed a lot, going from events aimed at an audience of specialists from the industry to glamorous occasions where celebrities would be invited, eventually opening up to people who weren't necessarily part of the fashion industry elite, such as bloggers and then influencers.

Covid-19 changed the dynamics once again, pushing shows on digital platforms, but, post-Covid, things have become more complex, with shows often featuring a few celebrities walking among the models on the runway, plus painfully hip guests and fabulous icons in the front row, elements that are high on the entertainment factor, but also represent a great distraction from the clothes.

These signs reveal us that the fashion spectacle is mutating once again: in the 1990s shocking spectacles on the runways had a commercial value and attracted the media and buyers; nowadays, rather than aiming to shock their audiences, brands tend to create theatres of fashion on a vast scale, large platforms that can generate money through a variety of collaborations/disciplines, simultaneously. 

But it is not just giant brands that are opting for this combination of intents: KidSuper's Colm Dillane may have lost the chance to become Louis Vuitton's men's Creative Director, but he is currently busy setting up a 10,000-square-foot studio in Williamsburg that will comprise a workspace, gallery, recording and photo studios, a retail store and a soccer field.

Fashion is evolving into a giant container in which the boundaries between art, design, culture, music, sport and fashion, are gradually being erased and in which the traditional designer will be moving through different media and will not necessarily focus only on fashion collections.

Maybe this process will be accelerated also by Artificial Intelligence applications that may introduce new ways of creating collections, but also alter the fashion week calendar. New York-based AI Studio Maison Meta is organizing in March (date to be confirmed, but probably around 17th March) the first-ever AI Fashion Week, an event that will showcase the latest advancements in artificial intelligence and fashion (submissions close on 1st March).

We may be still in the early days of these processes (and the slightly disquieting, thin and elongated models generated in the advertising campaign for the first AI Fashion Week prove that there's still a lot of work to do...), but progress is fast both in fashion and in technology and you can bet that there will be further glimpses of AI applications on the Milanese and Parisian runways in the next few days, and maybe even further confirmations of new trends in the presentation and evolution of the theatre of fashion.

Fashion Forensics: A Study on the Deterioration of Kids' Fancy Dress Costumes

It's Carnival/Mardi Gras and, if you have children/nephews/nieces/grandchildren, you've probably bought (or made) them a costume. Sure, it doesn't have to be Carnival to wear a costume and maybe you're planning to buy them a costume to go to a fancy dress party or for the next Halloween, but the point is, have you ever wondered what's in a kid's costume? To answer this question, let's analyse two children's fancy dress costumes - one from the early 1980s, another bought in 2010 - and see how they aged and deteriorated, to ponder a bit about materials.

Exhibit A: Renaissance dame Carnival costume, Made in Italy, 1980, size: 4-5 years old

Description: A young girl's costume inspired by the Renaissance, divided in two parts and with two accessories. The full-skirt in a synthetic gold fabric presents turquoise floral lace inserts representing primulas and daisy lace appliqued along the hem of the skirt; the garment doesn't have any structure or crinoline underneath.

The top, in the same colour combination of the skirt, integrates instead sections of turquoise floral lace representing roses. The same lace is used for the bouffant sleeves.

The use of three different lace floral motifs is remarkable in the costume and creates subtle variations. There are no zips or plastic buttons in the skirt or the top, only automatic metal buttons. None of them shows any sign of rust.

The costume includes two accessories: a veil with a ruched element with a silvery detail around the head plus a bejeweled button acting as a forehead pendant (the veil could be secured around the neck with an elastic); the second accessory is an intricate black beaded collar made with a thick nylon thread and glass beads. The beaded collar is large enough for a grown up to wear.

History: This was my own costume. I wore it as a child only once for Carnival in 1980 in Italy. It was supposed to be a costume for Juliet, from William Shakespeare' Romeo and Juliet. Now you're probably wondering: "Why did you want to dress like Juliet as a child?" I know that sounds a bit extreme and tragic, but I remember going to buy it with my mum at a kids' clothes shop owned by a lady my family knew and picking it not because I knew who Juliet was, but because I was mesmerized by the intricate beaded collar.

It looked like something a grown up may wear and I thought that was unique (as a child I was obsessed with beads...). I wanted to wear it every day and not just on Carnival. In fact, I admit I'm still wearing it (apologies for the very personal note, but this adds further information about the condition of the ensemble).

Materials: There is no label inside the dress indicating the exact composition of the fabric, but you can tell it is a synthetic material; the lace is also rather stiff (the one around the hem of the dress is softer instead). 

Labels/Warnings/Washing instructions: There is just one rather anonymous label inside the dress with a mask indicating this is a Carnival costume and the size (I). Please note that at the time it wasn't compulsory to include a detailed label with material composition/washing instructions inside garments. Some may wonder now how do I know that it was made in Italy then. Well, at the time most clothes and accessories were made in Italy. Offshoring developed around the end of the '80s and became a practice in the '90s, so when this costume was bought most garments were still made in Italy.

Deterioration/Damages: the dress does not present huge damages/stains. There is a minor damage in the top around one section of the seams between the bust and the arm, but there are no parts missing even though the elastic used to tie the veil is a bit crumpled.

I remember that I didn't particularly like the fabric of the dress since it wasn't very soft; I also remember wearing the costume with a crinoline underneath, but I don't have that anymore. Otherwise the dress is in pristine conditions and there are no other missing parts.

Storage: The costume was washed after I used it and was kept in a wardrobe folded between linen towels. A child could still wear it because it is in very good conditions.

Forty-three years have gone since that Carnival, but I still wear the beaded collar. My mum and I both used it on multiple occasions, as an everyday accessory or as a reliable piece that could spark up a dress for a special event.

Exhibit 2: A Buzz Lightyear costume, Original Disney costume from Disney Paris Resort,

Made in Vietnam, 2010, size: 3-4 years old

Description: A Buzz Lightyear Costume. Divided in two parts, it includes a top with partially detachable wings and a pair of trousers with shoe covers. The top is padded to reproduce the character's spacesuit, the wings are partially padded and so are the shoe covers.

The top also integrates a battery unit: when you press the red circle on the front of the costume, lights behind three iridescent fabric inserts light up reproducing the voice of Buzz Lightyear saying three different sentences. The costume is made of synthetic white materials with parts in black and lilac nylon. There are also large green and silver sections on the top and shoe covers and green/red and white striped sections on the wings - all these parts are covered in a polyurethane coating.

History: This costume was used by one of my nephews. It was used a couple of times.

Materials: 85% Polyester and 15% Polyurethane

Labels/Warnings/Washing instructions: The label indicates it shouldn't be washed but only cleaned with a sponge. It also warns that it should be kept away from fire and that it is unsuitable for children under 36 months. Besides, the label indicates the batteries needed for the costume (2 AA batteries).

Deterioration/Damages: Washing instructions were followed, but the white padded sections on the top and on the shoe covers turned yellow. The most unsettling thing about this costume is that the coating on all the green / silver / red and white striped parts melted and these parts are now very sticky. In some cases the colours looked as if they were scratched away.

Polyurethane coatings on clothes tend to peel away or crack, but in this case they melted producing a sticky paste that leaves gluey traces on your fingers and residues of colours on the surfaces they get in contact with (from the top of the trousers of the costume to the wall on which I photographed the garments).

If you fold two parts of the green fabric one on top of the other, they stick together, as if you had put glue on them. Touching the costume, you get easily very dirty and the traces of materials on your fingers can be removed by washing your hands or using wipes for waxing aftercare.

The red and white striped areas have also melted, leaving marks on the back of the costume. The battery unit is empty and clean, and the light/audio effects are still working. 

Storage: The costume was kept in a transparent plastic cover in a trunk for the last 13 years. Considering the damages and materials that have melted, the costume is not suitable to be used again.

Materials like these ones can indeed break off from the products to which they're applied, move through the air and be breathed, ingested or absorbed through the skin.

Being unwearable, the costume could be kept like a memento like I did with mine (but it would keep on deteriorating further, so it would have to be kept away from other items...) or should be just disposed of. Yet doing so poses a health risk: the costume would end up in a landfill and the coated parts would melt further generating more pollution; the battery unit would also have to be disposed of separately.

It wouldn't be wrong to say that this costume constitutes a health hazard: if you just threw it out, it would decompose and release toxic materials in a landfill; at the same, it would not be safe to wear it as the sections that are deteriorating may be releasing toxic materials that a child would breathe or ingest. You could still recycle some sections of the costume, but you'd still have to dispose of the badly damaged/sticky parts. So what's for sure about this costume is that it won't definitely go "To infinity and beyond," as Buzz would say. 

Conclusions

Being made entirely of synthetic but relatively good quality fabrics, the costume from the early '80s remained intact. It presented great attention to details and, even though it was just a Carnival costume and therefore made with average fabrics and not luxurious materials, it hasn't aged badly. Besides, the collar remained an asset and can still be used by a grown up.

The Buzz Lightyear costume by Disney is not just falling into pieces, it also turned into something completely unwearable, maybe even toxic (please note that this is not a statement made to discriminate against the place where this costume was produced compared to the previous one; it is a statement made after considering the quality and materials of both the costumes). 

The Buzz Lightyear costume is definitely not environmentally friendly and, while you may argue that neither Juliet's dress is, and if I had thrown it out, it would still be decomposing in a landfill, at the same time time, the dress from the '80s may still be worn by another child, or it could still be remodeled into something else as its fabrics could still be reused.

While not all of us have the skills/time to make a kid's costume, we can still get more informed and become aware of the materials employed in fancy dress costumes and pick ones made with sensible materials or reusable ones (after all, kids grow up fast) or at least opt for costumes that do not integrate parts and elements made with materials that may badly deteriorate. Sure, you want your children to have fun and have an extraordinary and unique costume, but you also want to make sure they are safe.

This post is not intended to provide a representative sample of children's textiles, but to wonder if environmental health research groups should maybe carry out more in-depth researches on fancy dress costumes, and produce a study that may provide consumers with better information about the chemicals used in these products.

Last May there was a study about PFAS substances - also known as "forever chemicals" (as they do not naturally break down, but persist in the environment and accumulate in humans causing cancer, birth defects, liver disease, thyroid disease, decreased immunity, hormone disruption and other serious health issues) - that is, per-and polyfluoroalkyl substances, a class of more than 9,000 compounds typically used in a wide range of industries to make products water-, stain- or heat-resistant. The study found that they are contained in products destined to children such as clothing, pillow protectors, bedding and furniture or even in products labeled as "environmentally friendly". So, it would be very useful to know if even fancy dress costumes may contain such harmful materials and substances. 

Return of the Harlequin Pattern: Sign of Ebullient Times Ahead or of Further Social Crises and Confusion?

It is not rare to spot singers and musicians performing a number in Harlequin-inspired suits: borrowed from the Commedia dell'Arte, a form of improvisational theatre popular since the 16th century in Italy, the colourful costume is donned by prankster servant Arlecchino (Harlequin), a histrionic character.

Harlequin's costume traditionally consisted of a jacket and trousers made of irregularly-shaped coloured materials; the costume of his girlfriend, Columbine, was at times inspired by the garments worn by servant girls, but more often it looked like a feminine version of Harlequin's costume, with numerous multi-coloured patches.

Italian painter Giovanni Domenico Ferretti was a passionate fan of theatre, but also fascinated with the figure of Harlequin and dedicated to him an entire series of paintings.

The theme of the Commedia dell'Arte and in particular the figure of Harlequin were often used for fashion magazine covers especially in the early 1900s. Besides, fashion designers reinterpreted the suits decade after decade.  

As you may remember from a previous post, the late Vivienne Westwood relaunched the Harlequin suit in her 1989 "Voyage to Cythera" collection, while the S/S 2008 season marked a revival of the Harlequin print with Viktor & Rolf, that gave the print a romantic touch, and Miu Miu, that turned it into a modern and arty style.

Throughout the years we have also seen a deconstructed version of the costume by Isabel & Ruben Toledo for the ballet "Commedia" by Christopher Wheeldon's company Morphoses and another interpretation of Harlequin's costume in a dress accessorized with a leather mask covered in spikes on Gucci's A/W 19 runway. Did Alessandro Michele at Gucci have in mind for that design Walter Albini's A/W 1972-73 multi-coloured "clown" dress for Misterfox? Maybe. 

Harry Styles is a fan of the Harlequin suit and costume: in September 2017, he sported a Gucci Harlequin suit reminiscent of Cezanne's black and red Harlequin painting, to perform at the iHeartRadio Music Festival, in Las Vegas.

More recently, on the red carpet at the Grammy Awards, Styles opted for a shimmering custom-made multi-coloured Harlequin jumpsuit by EgonLab x Swarovski (allegedly comprising 250,000 Swarovski crystals in 9 different colors; yes, we know, it's hilarious the way everybody is now telling us exactly how many Swarovski crystals are integrated in a design or look - it's as if a design is now worth it only if it features thousands of Swarovski crystals...).

But the Harlequin patterns also returned in some of the recent shows: Armani Privé S/S 23 collection revolved entirely around this motif. 

The 77 looks in the collection, showcased in January during Haute Couture Week in Paris, were colour variations on the Harlequin theme, with styles that may appeal to a variety of couture clients - from younger to more mature ones.

Inspirations, according to the press release, came from "the rococo interiors of Venetian palazzos and the splendor of the light" and looks included jackets with embossed diamond patterns or with Harlequin motifs in iridescent emerald, mauve and pale blue fabrics (will Lady Gaga starring as Harley Quinn in the next Joker film wear it at some point on the red carpet maybe?) matched with black pants or black knickers; sequined cardigans in densely beaded embroideries and rhomboid patterns in dégradé crystals.

In some cases the pieces of Harlequin's suit were deconstructed and reconstructed into an extravagant mille-feuille jacket that gave three-dimensionality to the pattern. 

The designs were accessorised with Harlequin bags and Pierrot neck ruffs here and there to create a contrast between these two moods (Harlequin is the prankster, while Pierrot is the sad clown). 

Chic and elegant, yet not extremely new or innovative, Armani Privé's collection riffed on variations, like a text-to-image Artificial Intelligence application would do: there were larger or smaller diamond prints; varying intensities of colour and moods that went from the ebullient '80s to styles reminiscent of Art Deco times, with tiny hints at punk in the glossy trousers matched with the Harlequin jackets and shiny bustiers (but then again isn't Harlequin a punk, a destroyer of the order and an instigator of chaos?). 

While Armani Privé's harlequinade may have needed some editing, Harris Reed's new collection may have benefited from some variations.

Heading to Paris for his debut at Nina Ricci after only four collections in his name since he graduated from Central Saint Martins, Reed was inspired by theatricality in his A/W 23 designs.

Explaining the moods behind his new collections Reed quoted Shakespeare's Act II, Scene VII from "As You Like It", reminding us that "All the world's a stage" and talking about performative clothing.

Yet, rather than pointing at Shakespeare, the designs incorporating Harlequin's black and silver bodysuits hinted at the Commedia dell’arte. 

The bodysuits were integrated in velvet evening gowns, matched with domed mini-crinis, mixed with abstract shapes à la Rei Kawakubo's Spring/Summer 1997 "Body Meets Dress, Dress Meets Body" collection and wrapped under miles of old gold lamé (reclaimed curtains collected from London's theatres).

Christopher John Rogers also incorporated Harlequin motifs in his Pre-Fall 23 collection: at times they were printed in his trademark optical polka dot style; at others appliqued onto evening gowns or broken into rhomboid elements stitched together to create a ruffled scarf. 

The lookbook for the collection also featured models wearing clown noses and a Pierrot jumpsuit plus towering clown hats, while playful ideas such as sweaters formed by two crewnecks and a sweater dress with both long sleeves and arm slits also pointed at joyous Comedy of Manners moods.

Expect to see more Harlequin patterns on the A/W 23 runways in Milan and Paris, but beware: as stated above, Harlequin usually symbolizes fun and irony, but also escapism, confusion and chaos and patterns linked to his costume often popped up in fashion in moments of crisis in our collective history.

Schiaparelli launched her Commedia dell’Arte collection (S/S 1939), comprising also a Harlequin coat with diamond shaped patches of wool felt, eccentric hats such as tricorns or peaked clown hats or lace masks, and mask-shaped buttons, in October 1938.

At the time war rumours were turning into tangible threats in Europe and Schiaparelli’s designs almost seemed to exorcise the fear and panic they were generating, while the Commedia dell'Arte theme used by Schiap became a metaphor indicating the psychological state of mind people were living in.

Tomorrow is Mardi Gras, a joyful day for fun and self-expression and the culmination of the Carnival season, yet this week also marks one year since Russia invaded Ukraine.

So, it is somehow symbolical to see the Harlequin pattern returning in our times: while all these harlequinades may not be spelling immediate disaster ahead, they surely go well with a collective state of mind pointing at conflict, chaos and confusion.

From Pastels to a Kilonova: What Will Inspire Your Colour Palette for the Next Season?

The Fall 2023 shows in New York and London have so far presented collections characterised by a prevalently autumnal palette with some splashes of colours. But, if you like vibrant shades, you don't need to follow trends. In fact, forget trends and look for bold and bright inspirations somewhere else.

Quite often even a box of coloured pencils can be a great inspiration: Sotheby's recently included in one of its auctions two boxes of Henri Roché pastels that belonged to the artist Sam Szafran (pastels became his favourite medium - at times combined with charcoal and watercolour - in the '60s after Szafran received a box of them as a gift). Neatly arranged according to their shades in several rows in the two boxes, the pastels prove aesthetically pleasing, providing intriguing inspirations for both garments and accessories. 

If you fancy more complex colours with a scientific twist about them, check out the super bright illustrations depicting a kilonova.

Kilonovae are cosmic spherical blasts (originally thought to be flat; probably neutrinos play an important role in the shape of the explosion) triggered by the collision of neutron stars. The giant explosions are responsible for creating black holes (the ultimate result of a kilonova is a so-called "hypermassive" merged neutron star that collapses to birth a black hole), but also the heaviest elements of the periodic table, such as gold, platinum and uranium. The new study about the spherical shape of the kilonova was made by astrophysicists from the University of Copenhagen.

A kilonova was detected for the first time in 2017 in a galaxy 140 million light years away from Earth and astrophysicists continue to explore these events that, for the time being, remain largely unknown.

The discovery about the shape of the kilonova was published online on February 15th in the journal Nature and its press release was accompanied by the illustration of a spherical explosion by astrophysicist Albert Sneppen of the Cosmic Dawn Center in Copenhagen, lead author of the research published in Nature. Sneppen stated that a kilonova is an aesthetically beautiful explosion emitting colours that "quite literally look like a sun".

Blancmange an Instagram account of a digital patisserie posting AI generated images of fantasy cakes with a fashion twist about them, has already posted a cake inspired by the bright and powerful shades of the kilonova. So what will inspire your colour palette for the next season - pastels or kilonovae?