A clear trend of the artsy archetype was evident at New York Fashion.
Nostalgia is so ubiquitous these days. It’s hardly worth mentioning. But in our era of record inequality. It’s a little shocking to consider. That we are nostalgic for the ruling class of another age and especially for that nearly extinct breed.The grande dame of art and design. Do you remember her? It wasn’t all that long ago that she was the one who really called the shots. The woman of great means and power who made it her mission to grease the wheels of culture, lifting young artists and introducing them to their patrons.The gala-goer whose fashion sense was as sharp as her tongue.
The Grande Dame Spirit Haunts NYFW Runways
Her spirit has been haunting the catwalks since at least 2023, but during this season’s New York Fashion Week. She was the star of the show everywhere one turned,her looks were fitting for the rich, glamorous grandma. Brooches that adorned Prabal Gurung, Kallmeyer, and Ralph Lauren collections. Gloves poked out of sleeves at Khaite, Altuzarra, and Michael Kors. (Faux) furs enveloped models from Calvin Klein to Anna Sui to LaQuan Smith. The spaces and locations, too, reflected a longing for the cultural patronage of a bygone era. LoveShackFancy held its show at the Cooper Hewitt. While Sui took over the National Arts Club, and Kors gave his guests a night at the opera. The most obvious tributes to the grande dame were at. Tory Burch and Carolina Herrera, whose collections were partially inspired by Bunny Mellon and Peggy Guggenheim, respectively.
The Modern Elite and the Decline of Grande Dame Style
If the reverence of the bejeweled heiresses and the be-caftan-ed philanthropists of old seems at first to be ill-timed, one should look at who has filled their seats in the halls of power and public theater. Jackie Kennedy, famously, brought Bunny Mellon in to design the Rose Garden of the White House. Trump tore down her work last year, and trashed the arts and culture budget to boot. Even when they do attempt to make inroads in the world of art and style, it’s a reminder that money can’t buy taste (although it can buy you a Law Roach). On the other hand, the more staid rich worship another false god. Quiet Luxury. As for those who have opted for a more visually humble path, they cloak themselves in solid neutrals and basic pieces so unremarkable, so devoid of distinction that you’d be hard-pressed to wonder if they’re not demonstrating a kind of instinctual camouflage.
Nostalgia for the Grande Dame of Art and Design
Thus abandoned by those with actual wealth. The grande dame’s aesthetic has been made available to anyone who waltzes into a department store. And with a point-one-percent of those whose aesthetic disposition indicates an allergy to taste, is it any wonder we’d yearn for their sparkling style — not to mention their always-open pocketbooks? Yes, philanthropy was invented during the Gilded Age to appease the huddled masses. But it’s easy to see those days with rose-colored glasses when today’s crop of robber barons can’t be bothered to keep up the charade. Even worse, they don’t seem to be having any fun. Take the modern-day billionaire relaxing in his sprawling and undecorated McModern, catching up on some emails on an iPad before donning his ultra-premium groufit and climbing into his all-white bed. Even in some far-off future, it’s difficult to imagine this character being represented on a designer’s mood board, influencing generations to come as a constant reference point. Nostalgia is a powerful drug, but it has its uses
Brooches, Gloves, and Furs: Luxury on the Runway
But what, pray tell, is the point of fabulous wealth if not to live a fabulous life? Surely, there’s nothing that money can buy that feels better than falling asleep under a headboard. That Alexander Calder designed just for you, a half-drunk nightcap, and a half-read book on your nightstand. What better use for your billions than to keep a veritable army of unemployable creative weirdos on the payroll as they toil away on their increasingly inscrutable but maybe brilliant art. Or to blow it on marvelous, booze-soaked salons, at which you — wrapped snugly in your shearling and supple leather gloves, face ringed by a pair of blinding sapphires — can mingle with the best artists and writers of your generation. An upmarket foam party to mark a wedding in Venice is a momentary diversion. Determining the course of art history from your home cum museum in Venice is a legacy, a life well lived.
It may very well be that the grande dame is a permanent goodbye — that the 21st Century is no longer a welcoming place for those of her ilk. But if anything, NYFW has shown us that her spirit is very much alive, as is her style. Maybe it’s high time that the rest of us laced up their gloves and cocktail rings.