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.