Clothes, not models, main attraction in Ungaro's show
Clothes, not models, main attraction in Ungaro's show
By Dini S. Djalal
JAKARTA (JP): Last week, a woman hurried past my car, wearing
a body-hugging blazer over a tight skirt skimming her knee. She
teetered on her utilitarian high-heeled pumps down the muddy
sidewalk and promptly jumped onto a Metromini with the gait of a
seasoned urban commuter.
Welcome to secretarial style, circa 1995. Whether in Milan,
New York, Paris, or our very own metropolis Jakarta, the matronly
look has become all the rage. On international catwalks, hardly a
supermodel thigh was prey to photographers' flashes, as the knee-
length skirt -- flared or fitting -- became omnipresent this
season. The power suit, worn (or rather, shorn) to dizzying
effect by Demi Moore in Disclosure, has returned, although truly
massive shoulder pads still await their unfortunate but due
revival. The secretary on the Metromini must be shaking her head.
"So now I'm trendy, without even trying?".
One thing must be said about secretarial style: it's
convenient. No more pulling down too-short miniskirts or hobbling
on cork platform shoes. It's even easy on the color-blind -- many
pieces now arrive as matching ensembles. From strappy shoes to
skinny belts to prim headbands, the designer will color-
coordinate your entire wardrobe for you.
Even Emanuel Ungaro, the Parisian designer whose pattern and
color schemes rival a hallucinogen-enhanced Kenyan safari, offer
outfits in subdued monotone hues. The stereotypical exuberant
Ungaro lioness -- in leopard-print mini, flower-printed blouse,
and colorful plaid jacket -- occasionally leapt down the runway,
but for the most part, the lioness is looking more and more like
a well-groomed office kitten.
Couture Contours
Every six months, Singapore's Glamourette Group presents an
Ungaro Trunk Show for socialites with pockets several thousands
of dollars deep. This year's autumn collection show was held at
the Shangri-La Hotel on April 4. You can order pieces from the
collection at the show, and pick up the tailor-made clothes six
months later in Singapore or have them delivered to you.
It was an exquisitely-crafted collection, despite the trends
it followed. "What Ungaro has attempted is to raise pret-a-porter
quality to haute couture standards. These clothes were tailored
with couture cutting", explained Theresa Lim, the Ungaro line's
Singaporean manager. The deft pattern-cutting was evident. The
pieces seemed practically sewn on the body, as the designer
fitted seams so close to the body's contours. Theoretically, such
tailoring can sculpt any flawed body into Grecian perfection.
For example, the tweed three-piece suits, often worn with a
matching Edwardian scarf, would seem bulky were it not for the
slight nip there, the subtle tuck here. The pieces were also
presented like staircases -- the short jacket worn over a hip-
hugging waistcoat and a knee-length skirt -- giving the illusion
of elongation.
In an ode to Jackie O, there were also boxy tweed suits in
baby pink or baby blue, as well as in traditional gray, with high
side slits up the sober skirts. The waistcoat took center stage
in this collection, often so petite yet still clinched by a
shoestring belt around a tiny waist. There's a price to looking
so nice, and there's no room for cheesecake in these hourglass
shapes. These three-piece suits also come in beautiful mint-
colored brocaded silks.
It was the evening wear, as always, which pleased the
clientele. Black flared dresses with diamante trimming were
sentences in understated elegance. Flashier statements were
provided by the black sequined slip dress with matching bolero,
or the maroon sequined slinky suit with the plunging neckline.
The sleeveless gown adorned with diamante bows was a bit too
cute, although it would no doubt suit the whims of Jakarta
debutantes.
Other dresses were a direct reference to the age of
debutantes, particularly the 1950s ball-gowns with layers and
layers of petticoats. Worn at the Paris shows by giggly barefoot
models, momentarily the world almost seemed as light as the
crinolines. The fashion industry is often accused of living an
unreal carefree lifestyle shielded with fantasy, and there is
often truth in the accusation. Perhaps the trend towards
secretarial style is the designers' admission that they can and
do respond to the needs of the general public. The crinolined
ball-gowns, meanwhile, injects the hard reality with frivolous
glamour. And there is no other way to describe a US$46,000 ball-
gown as being other than frivolous (frivolously pretty,
frivolously well-crafted, frivolous all the same).
Yet expensive frivolity is the mark of haute couture, and
offers no surprises. What seemed amiss was Ungaro's signature
sense of adventure, and his wildcat women in mismatched silks.
The India-inspired outfits of brocaded Nehru jackets, palazzo
pants, and chiffon dresses, displayed Ungaro's unique talent of
pattern mixing, but still the result was subtle and sedate.
Subdued chic is not Ungaro style. Perhaps more indulgent colors
and motifs are reserved for springtime, as drab fall clothes
prepare customers mentally for dredging through snowstorms (or in
this case, for walking from limousine to the lobby of the Ritz).
At the Paris shows, the models donned white wigs because
Ungaro wanted the audience to concentrate on the clothes rather
than the supermodels. It was a wise move, of course, as a gray
tweed suit would all but disappear in the shadow of Cindy
Crawford. Usually at an Ungaro show, it is the models who
disappear in the madness of colors and patterns.
And an endnote to secretarial style: they are functional but
rather boring, and done best by those who have always championed
it, such as Calvin Klein and Prada. At its best, fashion can
elevate the dowdy thespian into a creature of refinement and
beauty. Supermodels look like supermodels whether they're dressed
in secretarial clothes -- even the most exquisitely-tailored
secretarial clothes -- or a sequined bikini. The rest of us,
unfortunately, will just look like secretaries.