In the history of fashion there have been performances in which models underwent live dressing processes before an audience.
As you may remember, for their Autumn/Winter 1999 Haute Couture collection (titled "Russian Doll") Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoere piled up one garment on top of the other on model Maggie Rizer. Starting in a minidress made of hessian sackcloth, Rizer ended up entombed in a thick coat, turned into a sculpture and unable to move. A comment on the relentless rhythm of fashion and of consumption, the concept was reversed in the duo's Autumn/Winter 2010-11 collection with Kristen McMenamy turned into an awkward monumental robot-like figure dwarfed by a pile of garments that were one by one removed by the designers and adapted on the other models.
Olivier Saillard also made a virtue out of the art of dressing Tilda Swinton in his performances "The Impossible Wardrobe" (2012), "Eternity Dress" (2013) and "Cloakroom" (2014). In "Embodying Pasolini", the actress donned the costumes created for the films of Italian writer, poet and director Pier Paolo Pasolini.
Despite different in their essence and at times evoking a sense of detachment from the audience passively watching, these performances still underscore the transformative power inherent in fashion. Each layer of clothing, each costume, altered the wearer's appearance, remembering audiences that we are blank canvases awaiting to become works of art through the medium of fashion.
Yet beneath the surface of these presentations lies a calculated beauty, a fashion trapped within constraints. Every aspect of these transformative rituals featured specific designs and was meticulously planned, leaving nothing to chance. As spectators we admire the attires, we witness the spectacle and passively absorb it.
Last week, thrift clothes virtuoso Francesco Colucci engaged in a similar live dressing session with his muse, the artist Diamond Peach Lollipop, at the Fashion in Motion event dedicated to him at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London.
However, Colucci is a dresser with a cause - sustainability. His unique vision and the grand designs resulting from his dutifully applied layers are indeed the result of an endless ragpicking exercise that he has mastered in the last 10 years.
After moving from his native Italy (where he studied art) to London, Colucci started working at Traid, a charity collecting and selling second-hand clothes, but also raising funds to improve the conditions of workers in the textile industry and support organic cotton farmers.
At Traid Colucci initially served as a sales assistant before assuming the role of visual merchandiser. This new role allowed him to start curating the window displays that turned into a weird and wonderful platform for his self-expression.
Employing materials donated to Traid, Colucci breathes new life into old garments, accessories, and objects, reconfiguring them and creating new narratives.
Whatever is available in the Traid shops serves as his inspiration (note to fashion design students: always pay attention to materials and let them inspire you, as Louis Kahn taught us to do with his approach to the brick).
Remixed and combined with his roots, with his passion for the films of Pier Paolo Pasolini, Michelangelo Antonioni, and Luchino Visconti, and with a dash of Danilo Donati's ingenuity and Piero Tosi's knowledge of materials.
At the V&A's Raphael Gallery Colucci piled layer upon layer on his model Diamond Peach Lollipop, clad in head to toe in one of their sparking skins and trademark face masks that erased identity and gender. The process offered the audience an exclusive glimpse into Colucci's creative journey.
Colucci's vision thrives when the face of his dummies or of the model he's dressing is a blank canvas, a gender-neutral slate awaiting his transformative touch.
Employing donated garments and cast-offs, Colucci constructs ensembles that experiment with layering, textiles, volumes, and shapes, uncovering unconventional applications for clothing, accessories and assorted items or interior design objects.
Some creations evoke the spirit of Leigh Bowery - chameleon-like, audaciously controversial, unflinchingly bold - celebrating body distortions and exaggerated volumes, revealing Colucci's penchant for masks matched with monumental structures.
Colucci's performance at the V&A also included mannequins adorned in ensembles crafted from Traid's donated garments, of the kind you may spot in the windows of Traid's shops across London, such as bustiers made from upholstery fabrics of the kind you may see in your auntie's living room, and craftwork crochet blankets and cushions transformed into evening gowns and cobra-shaped heads of alien figures.
A bit like the late Anna Piaggi and Iris Apfel, Colucci combines in his practice rich fabrics with cheap plastic objects such as inflatable rucksacks and hats, or with metallic elements that look as if they were sourced from a hardware store rather than a haberdashery shop.
Creating like a naughty child, Colucci wittily subverts the intended purpose of a design: a ballerina's black tutu formed a halo around the head of a dummy, the crotch of the tutu used to partially obscure the face of the dummy, evoking a surreal S&M aesthetic reminiscent of Alexander McQueen; a rugby shoulder protection was transformed into the oversized head of an eerie extraterrestrial creature, creating a contrast with the magnificently monumental Altarpiece of St. George at the V&A's Raphael Court.
In Colucci's creations, colors and patterns clash and intertwine: grand gowns reminiscent of Galliano at Dior are fashioned from fabrics ripped from sofas, the exercise echoes the ethos of Margiela's Artisanal collections, but stems from the habit of all those of us who always lived low on resources and high on resourcefulness and that often manage to create grand fashion designs from yesterday's pile of trash.
Colucci emerges as a beacon of untamed creativity and a torchbearer of the eccentricity that once defined London, a free spirit amidst a city dealing with the aftermath of Brexit, the demise of punk icons, and a monarchy breaking the Internet for all the wrong reasons.
Fashion students would do well to ponder about Colucci's artistry, as he offers invaluable lessons gleaned from the art of thrift that can be very enriching. His message is indeed very clear: don't discard, but remake, remix and embrace, unleash creativity, and live authentically.
Image credits for this post
All images in this post courtesy of the Victoria & Albert Museum, London
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