With cargo pants to boot. True

Yves Saint Laurent, at the height of the popularity of the pret-a-porter, starting in the late ’60s, made sensible clothes. That is not to say that they were dull. Far from that, Mr Saint Laurent made his practical and wearable styles glamorous and, crucially, sexy—a tact that would be adopted by Tom Ford in the ’90s, as well as Marc Jacobs. Now, Anthony Vaccarello embraced that approach to modernity (in the ’70s, that was key to the success and visibility of brands). “The stance is pragmatic,” Saint Laurent informed through the show notes of its spring/summer 2024 collection, “with couture-informed daytime looks and a looser silhouette than in past seasons.” We have not thought that “pragmatic” could be associated with Mr Vaccarello’s vision for Saint Laurent, but here it was—sober pragmatism in the form of jumpsuits and cargo pants, unmistakably.

With the glowing Tour Eiffel keeping watch and a lush soundtrack by the French musician/DJ Sebastian, which incorporated the speaking voice of Catherine Deneuve, Mr Vaccarello unveiled a collection that was a startling foray into the practical, the functional and—a sock to the imagination—the utilitarian. There was a staggering number of jumpsuits, loose and ready for a tryst in the boiler room. Pockets large enough to house a smartphone were applied on the top half of those jumpsuits and on shirts, and even roomier one on the side of pants for whatever else a woman needs to carry when freed from the burden of a bag. These were truly work wear given the glamour spin, but however fetching it looked in the Paris night, it sometimes felt like Saint Laurent has collaborated with Dickies. Amazing it was that the celebrities—all togged to the nines—were treated to “pragmatic”.

Saint Laurent fans would surely say, “but the clothes were so well cut.” Even when they were “couture-informed”, they lacked the extreme and the extras that Mr Vaccarello was able to meld into YSL forms in the past. No shoulders that relayed power, no leanness that inspired jealousy. This was anti-sharp as it was pro-saleable. While the collection suggested going through the brand archive, the inspiration was not from the star garment, the le smoking, but the other signature two-piece, the safari suit that Mr Saint Laurent had allowed to catch on with considerable speed and to grip the popular imagination tenaciously in 1967. Mr Vaccarello tweaked it—the silhouettes were now trimmer and softer, the patch pockets bigger, and the pantsuit had also morphed into dress versions that would probably prompt Diane von Furstenburg to curse herself for not reviving hers when she could.

Sometime in the middle segment of the collection came the shocker: a trio of work shirts, worn untucked (one was belted) over identically-coloured cigarette pants (more of the twosome apparel appeared later). They were imbued with the charm of chore coats designated for weekend errands or for the wearer to be ensconced in a country house. Or where deliberately styled to inspire those without the means to find similar at Uniqlo? When the utilitarian novelty eased, there were strapless tops, little dresses, fitted sheer knit tops, and floaty gowns of dreamy silk mousseline. In Mr Saint Laurent’s prime, much of what Anthony Vaccarello showed would be considered (and sold as) day wear. But as clothes for sun up and sun down are now indistinguishable, the collection would no doubt lure those whose social media-centric lives see no division of time. Especially so when Saint Laurent sent out wearable jumpsuits la nuit.

Screen shot (top): Saint Laurent/YouTube. Photos: gorunway.com