It was the latest Paris fashion week, moments before the Tom Ford show was due to start, when fashion commentator Lyas slipped through the backstage entrance of the Théâtre du Châtelet and went upstairs to get mic’d up.
Having failed to get a ticket to the actual show, 27-year-old Lyas – whose real name is Elias Medini and who has almost 500,000 followers on Instagram – was preparing to livestream it on a big screen to 2,000 of his fellow rejects currently sitting in the auditorium. The night before he had shown Saint Laurent. In a few days he would do the same for Chanel. His aim, he says, is to democratise a famously closed-off industry, and open up the spectacle of fashion week to people who have no chance of ever going themselves.
“Fashion is always about who is in and who is out,” he says. “The dichotomy between wanting to be in and out is also real: when you’re in you want to be out, and then the opposite. But I just love the energy that people on the outside bring to [these events].”
Tall and whippet-thin, with tight black curls and a cartoonish grin, Medini was dressed in a tight teal leather jumpsuit and sunglasses even though it was almost dinnertime.
Medini is not trying to dismantle the entire fashion establishment, he says, rather he wants to “bridge the gap between inside and outside” – be the David to its Goliath. “The people at the shows, they don’t really care that they’re there on the front row. But there are people, sitting downstairs, who would kill [to be there]!”
Medini’s watch parties, of which there were 12 in Paris this season, have grown from hastily assembled drinks to large-scale organised fun. The initial idea came after he tried and failed to get a seat at Jonathan Anderson’s much-anticipated menswear Dior debut last June. “I was so mad and hurt,” he says. “But then I thought, let’s just go to the bar I always go to and watch it there.” Installing his own TV in Le Saint Denis, a cafe in the city’s 10th arrondissement, he posted the event on social media, arranged the chairs to fit 20 people, and ordered a round of beers. In the end, 300 people turned up to watch and the whole thing spilled out on to the street.
In less than a year, his parties have become major events, with their own schedule, a guest list and PRs at the door. He chose the theatre venue because shows run notoriously late and people wanted somewhere to sit (indeed, it’s a full half-hour before Tom Ford starts at Place Vendôme). “We also wanted somewhere to fit enough people within budget, and be central.” In the end they paid very little to borrow the theatre, which overlooks the Seine and is otherwise known for hosting the Ballon d’Or football awards. “I think the theatre agreed because they want to preserve fashion culture. And this is a part of culture, it goes beyond just clothes,” he says.
Medini’s watch parties in Paris and in New York have since been met with ever-increasing chaos and crowds, including Matthieu Blazy’s Chanel debut last October – which he opened up to 2,000 fans to watch at La Caserne, an outdoor venue – becoming something of an inflection point. According to the New York Times, people tried to jump the barriers. He used to organise and even fund them out of his own pocket. Then the fashion houses caught on, either to his influence or his Little Engine That Could spirit, and chipped in. The only brand to request he didn’t livestream their show was Margiela, says Medini, in a mock-authoritative voice. “Every other fashion house says yes, of course.”
As one of the first people to call out Dolce & Gabbana for their all-white casting in January, he still has a critical eye. His backstage footage attests to him being, if not liked, then respected by the industry. Recently, he posted a video on Instagram to his followers accusing Vogue of stealing the concept of a watch party at their Vogue Café pop-up for the Balmain show.
Of course, Medini is not the first person to stream a catwalk show. “Last year the Central Saint Martins library began to show screenings from our archive collection of recordings, which goes back to 1979,” says Vivienne Eades-Miller, academic support librarian at CSM. These screenings usually result in “commentary, conversation, gasps, glances, side-eyes, laughter and applause,” she says. Medini claims he had already approached Vogue about the idea, “but not heard from Anna [Wintour]. It’s a shame. I texted everyone I know at Vogue. But nothing.” In response, Vogue told the Guardian: “Like many other media brands, Vogue has had watch parties for many years, including community-focused ones via Vogue Club”.
Fashion week is a strange business. Like Medini, I wasn’t invited to Tom Ford either. On the one hand, I was grateful to eat my noodles in peace (the show started at 7pm). But the pull of the hierarchy, grounded in a status awareness so visceral that people will truly break down if their seats are not on the front row, can be real. I’ve had my seat stolen, my name-place card moved, you name it. For all the talk of fashion opening up to the masses, outside London – which has a history of opening up shows to students, as well as blind and low-vision fans – it can be an exclusionary place.
Luis, a 28-year-old who works in marketing, was in the watch party audience for Tom Ford – the closest he has been to a real show. “I love fashion, so it’s crazy that this is a new idea for people like me who have never been to a show,” he says. “It’s unfortunate that [fashion is so closed off]. It’s important, now more than ever, with what’s going on in the world, that we have happy spaces like this.”
Medini grew up in Rouen, Normandy, to French and Algerian parents. He came to Paris as a teenager and worked at various fashion magazines, covering shows and posting snappy reaction videos about magazine covers. It was during the pandemic, when the entire fashion industry moved online and everyone became armchair critics, that fashion commentators such as Lyas, @stylenotcom and @ideservecouture were able to build an online community based on hot takes, ironic memes and – in the case of @stylenotcom – straightforwardly earnest observations.
But, as sometimes happens to people on the fringes of a world built on hierarchy and insider references, the industry commentator Lyas became an industry success. The watch parties began receiving sponsorship from brands such as Casio, L’Oréal and MAC. They even began hosting their own shows. Then, rather awkwardly, the show invites arrived. The day we meet, Medini comes from the front row at Acne. The day before that, he was at Saint Laurent – while also technically hosting a watch party.
“With those big brands, it’s complicated to say no because they help fund the event,” says Medini. He attended the show, got the show notes signed by Anthony Vaccarello, and then dashed back to the theatre to go on stage. “Look, I am kind of invited to everything. I try to turn down tickets,” he says. He declined the Acne ticket until they said he could bring two guests. “So we had a competition, on the stage, and I got to take two people. They were so happy to go somewhere they would never go to.” Where possible, Medini says, he tries to bring people who would not ordinarily get a shot. Sometimes, he says, he gives his seat away. His next plan? “A fashion festival for everyone.”
Lyas’s rapid success is testament to the fine line between inside and outside; and Medini is not the first to try to navigate the two. The next evening, I spot him front row at the tiny Alaïa show. Some people, it seems, are simply too influential for fashion to ignore.
To read the complete version of this newsletter – complete with this week’s trending topics in The Measure and your wardrobe dilemmas solved – subscribe to receive Fashion Statement in your inbox every Thursday.