T Magazine: 7 Martin Margiela Fans and Collaborators Remember His Most Radical Show
Left: A look from Maison Martin Margiela's landmark fall/winter 2000 show, staged in a disused freight train in Paris. Right: A hairpiece worn by one of the show's models. Credit... Ronald Stoops
Though he left his eponymous label nearly a decade ago, there are few designers as influential today as Martin Margiela. While he aspired to be invisible — to the point of refusing to be photographed and conducting all interviews by fax or email — Margiela’s impact is writ large on the contemporary fashion landscape. So many of his innovations — once radical — have become accepted norms in the industry (his deconstructed tailoring, his championing of recycling and his pioneering of the see-now buy-now model, to name but a few). Brands as diverse as Vetements, Marques’Almeida and The Row continually mine his archive for inspiration. The conceptual Belgian designer is being celebrated in two separate exhibitions in Paris this month: a retrospective at the Palais Galliera, which examines his career until he retired in 2009, and another at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs, which premiered in Antwerp last year and catalogs his six-year tenure designing for Hermès.
After starting his own label in 1988 with his business partner Jenny Meirens, Margiela spent the next two decades establishing an entirely new vocabulary for clothing — the “cigarette” shoulder, the iconic cloven-footed Tabi boot, the unfinished edges and paint-splattered surfaces, the repurposing of vintage garments into new clothes. He constantly questioned the received norms of luxury — particularly during his unconventional shows, which upended the traditional catwalk format, taking over abandoned Metro stations and, once, a Salvation Army store.
But the designer’s fall/winter 2000 collection was perhaps the finest expression of many of his career-long preoccupations. The show was staged inside a disused freight train docked in a loading bay in Paris’s 19th Arrondissement, and models walked to a dissonant instrumental track from David Lynch’s “Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me” film soundtrack. The show saw Margiela develop the oversize concept he’d introduced the previous season — garments came in an Italian size 78 — but he also experimented with new techniques, such as baking knitwear over an XXXL dummy to retain its voluminous form. While some critics found the show's setting “disturbing,” the clothes, with their blown-out proportions, achieved a new sculptural elegance. On the occasion of the Galliera exhibition, some of Margiela’s longtime collaborators and fans share their memories of the designer and that radical show.
Marina Faust, artist and photographer who collaborated with Margiela for nearly 20 years
I had heard about a fashion designer’s show that sounded like an underground performance, a bold and subversive act in the fashion world at the end of the 1980s. Intrigued, I went to the showroom and discovered a collection of clothes that blew my mind. As an artist, I am attracted to the uncompromising; there is no evolution without that. What spoke to me at first confirmed itself when I met Margiela to show him my series of photographs taken at a presentation in his showroom. It is not a point of view we shared; it is more that we agree on taste and a sensitivity we have in common. I think he liked my reportage, non-fashion approach to his work. The oversize collection is one of my favorites. It goes against any code. It seems impossible to wear but, on the contrary, looks wonderful on the body. And it changes its function depending on who wears it. Margiela was a risk taker. It is such a generous oeuvre he left behind. He made the impossible possible for everyone.
Harriet Quick, contributing editor at British Vogue who attended the show
I remember the [fall/winter 2000] show feeling ominous, humorous, surreal and enlightened in one go. The clothes were gigantic and engulfed the models. Disturbing those neat symmetrical proportions, covering the models’ faces with giant crimped hair was a punkish act in itself — the conventional idea of beauty was disrupted and the clothes disembodied. The show was probably late at night, when they usually staged shows, and far out of the center of town — getting there was a mission in itself — and then to enter a gloomily lit freight train was deeply disturbing and chilly too. The soundtrack and the disco balls added a slice of bathos. It was as if the myths and fantasy of beautiful Paris had evaporated.
Patrick Scallon, artistic and communications director for Maison Martin Margiela, 1993-2008
I’d never chosen to work in fashion. I was living in Brussels doing speech writing when I was introduced to Jenny. What was meant to be a three-week placement turned into 17 years! Margiela is extremely enigmatic and quite reserved. I liked the fact that he showed there was a way of getting through the traditional gatekeepers if you had the right conviction.
What was impressive about the fall/winter 2000 show was what he did with the knitwear, with the women walking around wearing another, much bigger, woman’s form. It was his way of exploring oversize — it was about taking something that had existed before and bringing it forth into a new context and giving it a new power. Both Jenny and Martin would challenge each other all the time, and this collection was the perfect mix of both of them — the alchemy of their talent created something that brought an idea to the edge of expression, but the clothes could still function as garments. Before that, it had been about ideas.
After the show, we got back to office and a call came through from Women’s Wear Daily asking for comment. We started hearing rumors that we had evoked the transportation of Jews from Paris. That’s not why we did it in any shape or form. People took a lot of poetic license. We had threats to the office, faxes that were extremely abusive. We weren’t used to seeing what we were doing spilling over into the public. It was very painful and went on for quite some time. The interesting thing about the show was when you put unrelated elements together, you create a space that can be filled in intellectually by other people.
Inge Grognard, makeup artist for Maison Martin Margiela, 1988-2010, who did the makeup for the show
I’d known Martin since I was 14. We were all interested in fashion and clothes and that brought us together. The moment he started his own brand, it was understood between us that we would work together. We had a lot of the same references in books, movies — he was very influenced by punk and what the Japanese designers were doing. He always gave me a lot of freedom to execute the makeup.
For the fall/winter 2000 show, the makeup was pretty raw; I wanted to see skin, not like a doll. But what I really remember was that the models had these really big fringes that covered the eyes. That was something he did throughout his career — covering the eyes with masks, veils or sunglasses. A lot of time it was the clothes that were most important. But he was also interested in the attitude of the models — the way they moved, what they thought. With Martin, there was always evolution. He was always playing with proportions and deconstructing and reconstructing again.
Ronald Stoops, photographer who documented the show
I first met him through [the Antwerp Six designer] Marina Yee and then later through Inge. From the beginning, I had total freedom shooting as there weren’t a lot of backstage photographers then, and I was always intrigued by his collections and castings. He was a visionary who was brilliant at taking from the past, mixing it with this level of craftsmanship that made his collections into something of the now. With the fall/winter 2000 show, we were not thinking about radical concepts; it was a natural progression for him. It’s history that has made it radical.
Kristina de Coninck, model for Maison Martin Margiela, 1989-2005, who walked in the show
I first met Martin after he saw a picture of me from a photo shoot I did with Ronald Stoops and Inge Grognard. I was impressed by his openheartedness and charisma. Then I met him again when I moved to Paris, and we became best friends. My first time modeling for him was definitely a heart-beating experience. Everything about it was exciting and there was the feeling that something great was going to happen. When Martin was casting models, he was always looking for a certain attitude, to let our personality show through. The fall/winter 2000 show was such genius — elegant but done with a sense of humor and attention to the finest detail. What I loved about his work was how suddenly he could pick up an idea and give it a new personality with tenderness, humor and love. All my memories related to his work are easy to express in one word: emotion. He surprised me from the very beginning, and he still surprises me today!
Vicky Roditis, Sales Manager and “Ambassadrice” to Martin Margiela, whose personal archive is heavily featured in the Palais Galliera exhibition
The show felt new because of the revolutionary techniques Martin used and the fact that we were showing XXXL sizes at a time when the trend was about a slim silhouette and low-waisted skinny pants. What was so special about the oversize clothes was the fact that you could dress lots of different sizes of people in the same clothes, which I found very democratic.
I found that every time Martin came out with a strong collection, we always got the worst critics. I could mention other shows like “Terrain Vague” in 1989 or the spring/summer 1991 show in the garage — people always misinterpreted. I think this is a consequence when you choose to operate with complete creative freedom. When you stand far ahead of any trend, you can easily be mistaken.
For me, working for Margiela was mainly about freedom. With Martin, everything was possible — even what is normally considered ugly could become interesting and beautiful. There was playfulness and a sense of surprise.
