Marc Jacobs reasoned out how the Vuitton collection evolved. “We had a big event—the reopening of the Paris flagship store—around the show, so the collection had to be sexy, hot, and exciting,” he remembered. “We looked at Versace, Ferré, Krizia, an area that’s been absent recently. We already had stilettos with the lots of little buckles, and bags with medallions, which were definitely a tribute to Versace.” The bags didn’t make it into production, but for Jacobs the sentiment remains the same. “Gianni is much more appreciated now. Given time, you look back and see how important he was.”
Jacobs looked over our classic Alaïa jersey bodydress and concluded, “I’d never touch an Azzedine. His pieces never look dated, even 20 years on. I’d love to see a girl in it with flat shoes—not a pair of bitchin’ shoes. I’d do the same thing with the Eiffel Tower Versace dress. It’s got its charm, but what would make it surprising would be a girl wearing it with a casual attitude, with flats. But,” he cautioned, with a large layering of 2006-style irony, “I’d hate to see it on the right girl. It would have to be on the wrong girl. But, y’know, mum the right wrong girl.”
Ann-Sofie Back walked around the long Versace gown with its outrageous 3-D chain-mail flying shoulder detail and pronounced, “It should be short. I’d cut it up to where the side slit ends and put it with sheer black tights and chain-mail shoes.” The sparkly Eiffel Tower dress, she said, sighing, has “too many colors. I’d dress it down with something it doesn’t work with, like a beige trench coat.” The Alaïa, though, made her eyes light up. “This is nice! It’s almost like jodhpur fabric. I’d put it with a wide belt that isn’t really right, something matte, brown, distressed. White shirt underneath. Red lipstick. Hair scraped back.”
Christopher Kane was finishing his graduation collection of short, frilled lace dresses, inspired by Melanie Griffith in Working Girl. He put the long Versace gown on a dress form in the college studio and exhaled, “It’s from his last collection, 1997; I’ve just been researching it!” He thought a bit. “It should be mid-thigh. I’d knot it at the side and ruche it up, then put it with a cone heel and a platform. Hair in a plain ponytail with a leather headband.” He liked the Eiffel dress, too. “You’d want a platform Prada ankle boot and royal-blue opaque tights. It would be good with a big-shouldered tailored jacket or a structured waistcoat; something masculine.” He took the Alaïa and reverently inspected the seams. “Bare legs would look just normal; I’d use peachy-sable tights, which would peep through the stitching. And an Aran cardigan cropped and riding up to show the scoop back.”
Kane was correct about the 1997 gown, as Donatella Versace confirmed. When we arrived at the palatial Versace apartments in Milan, she had her take on the trend pinned down—on two boards of photographs from the spring collections of Vuitton, McQueen, Balenciaga, and Marios Schwab (who is on the London radar as another nineties revivalist), alongside references from the Versace archives. There were Vuitton’s medallion-laden bags next to the Versace Medusa-head bags of’92; the hot-pink wet look of ’95 and the LV re-edition. McQueen’s leather-strapped dresses were placed against Gianni’s famous bondage collection of’92. Balenciaga’s black-and-white scarf prints and gold-shield belts were pinned beside Versace’s “Black fashion” collection of ’88. Marios Schwab’s curvy white bra-dress was partnered with a picture of Madonna in something very similar from ’95. In some cases, the borrowings that Donatella had skewered were almost photo-fit duplicates.