by Fabrizio Modina
In the current “narrative” of brands — a term now as overused as heritage — there exists only one image, a one-way direction, that portrays fashion of the past (and therefore of the present) as a “closed” system, intended for a noble or upper-bourgeois clientele with unlimited spending power. The message is: “either you’re rich, or you’re out.”
And this, in fact, is the image of fashion that has been deeply ingrained by the big names over the past fifteen years. So much so that, lately, newspaper headlines no longer speak of a “fashion crisis” but of a “luxury crisis,” as if the two were meant to signify the same thing. But that is not the case at all.
Read more: Who Decided That Fashion Has to Be a Luxury?Modern Haute Couture was born as the legitimate heir to that tradition of the highest-level tailoring which dressed queens, empresses, countesses, and entrepreneurs — an artistic expression of that “savoir-faire” capable of creating dreamlike garments: indeed, extremely expensive, yet the result of countless hours of construction and embroidery, made from precious and refined fabrics, conceived by master pattern-makers who knew every millimeter of their clients’ bodies and had no other mission than to make them more beautiful and admired.
However, this is where the “narrative” told today by Dior, Balenciaga, Chanel, and the other pillars of the fashion myth conveniently ends — leaving out a crucial detail: the business of these maisons was not based solely on the sale of made-to-measure garments, but also on that of the pattern itself.
Thus, the geniuses who invented the New Look, the trapeze dress, the A-line silhouette, the balloon skirt, and so on, also (rightly, and for a fee) distributed the patterns of their most original creations — making their work more democratic. This allowed even a small-town seamstress to offer her clients a dress in line with the latest Parisian trends. Certainly, more modest fabrics were used, and the craftsmanship was less refined, but the shapes and styles faithfully echoed those seen in the glossiest magazines. Fashion was a dream that could be scaled according to one’s income.
When Yves Saint Laurent opened the first prêt-à-porter boutique in 1966, the elite cried scandal — because now even “ordinary people” could afford a piece by the divine couturier. Saint Laurent understood that the world was changing and was the first to ride the wave of a rapidly expanding market.
This lesson in “fashion democracy” yielded brilliant results between the late 1980s and early 2000s, when many of the brands of fashion’s new wave diversified their output by introducing so-called “second lines” alongside their main collections — the latter being of higher creative and qualitative standards. These secondary lines, designed for smaller budgets, brought brand identity within the reach of a younger audience, combining design and innovation with accessible prices and wide distribution.
Those were the years of Versus (Gianni Versace), Emporio Armani, D&G, Junior Gaultier, and many other “twin” labels: Paris and Milan dressed everyone — with great economic success — and fast fashion not only did not yet exist, but, above all, no one felt the need for it.
Nothing remains of that world and that era. With fashion divided into two macro-blocks, each waging a battle by continually raising prices at the expense of design and quality, we have arrived at today — suspended in the cosmic void of a market that tells us the same T-shirt can cost €400 or €4, with the only differentiator being the label.
The Shein phenomenon (among others) is not a meteor that happened to fall by chance, but the shockwave of a need that is not only economic but also cultural: the necessity of accessibility, low-cost copies that are often qualitatively comparable to high-cost originals. The major maisons, on the other hand, chose exclusion over inclusion — eventually even losing their most loyal and wealthy clients.
The damage inflicted on the system by the two macro-blocks, with exponential price increases, has led to fashion being perceived today as something for the few — an exclusive ritual rather than a shareable art. The bubble inflated to unbelievable proportions, primarily sustained by the Asian market, which was exploited for its purchasing power — until, puff! — even this bubble burst, aided by the growing awareness among consumers of the product and the fair value it should carry.
Fortunately, many industry analysts see investment in creativity and price containment as the true drivers for the recovery of fashion, which now, more than ever, must rebuild its identity — balancing between the unjustifiable economic values of the big players and the unethical drift of fast fashion. A nod to Andrea Guerra, CEO of Prada, who candidly admitted: “Perhaps we raised prices too much.”