March, 26th, 2013

Tunis à Paris | AZZEDINE ALAÏA عز الدين عليّة‎ | Dots. Knits. 2013. 2014.

Tunisian-born Paris-based Alaïa has been creating seductive, curve-hugging clothes since he first opened his own Parisian atelier. Alaïa’s fashion education began at the École des Beaux-Arts in Tunisia, where after graduation, he started working as a dressmaker’s assistant.

Embracing his élégante sister Hafida’s advice, who taught him to sew, he moved to Paris in 1957 where he started to work at Christian Dior as a tailleur .. for only five days before being fired (it was Algeria’s post-purge war), but soon moved to work for Guy Laroche for two seasons, then for Thierry Mugler until he opened his first atelier in his little rue de Bellechasse apartment the late 1970s.

In 40+ years, Azzedine dressed privately the world’s jet set, from filthy-socialite-a Marie-Hélène de Rothschild to novelist, poet and journalist Louise de Vilmorin to actress-icon Greta Garbo, who used to come incogni to for her fittings as well as the girls of Paris’ Crazy Horse cabaret show. “From the Crazy Horse I learned the aesthetics of the entire body, and the importance of the fesse – the backside.”. Jean-Baptiste Mondino insists “Azzedine has a real sense of the woman’s body, and women know that.”.

1980. Paris Fashion Week. Alaïa’s apothéose. He lent three outfits to Elle’s Nicole Crassat, Carolyne Cerf and Brigitte Langevin that s tood out starkly against the style of the time. They were spotted by then Women’s Wear Daily pho tojournaliste Bill Cunningham, who a dopted Azzedine’s Blue Den’gri a tunisian boho-macho vest, we now all recognize him by. Bill described Alaïa as “putting women back in to clothes designed to illuminate the curves of the female.” The same year Alaïa launched his first ready- to-wear collection and a new atelier in the Marais.

By the late 80s Alaïa’s reputation as the “King of Cling” was cemented. Grace Jones wore several of his designs in A View to a Kill, including his most enduring invention, the b andage dress. She carried him in her arms on stage to receive his two fashion Oscars in 1984. From his very first show in his apartment in 1980, Alaïa’s close relationship with the models he dressed set him apart. Stephanie Seymour, Naomi Campbell and Veronica Webb all credit him with launching their careers, and when, following his on-going feud with Anna Win tour, Alaïa was not invited to or featured in the 2009 Met Gala and Costume Institute Exhibition, Seymour and Campbell ostentatiously declined their invitations in protest.

Anna Win tour was not invited to his most recent show. In an interview with Virginie magazine, he said of Win tour: “She runs the business very well, but not the fashion part. When I see how she is dressed, I don’t believe in her taste one second.”

Alaïa no toriously ignores the schedule of the Chambre Syndicale, keeping his shows a secret and sticking to his own timetable. His creativité is not hostage of the frenzy calendrier de la mode. Alaïa has always made the clothes he wants to make, at his rhythm, showing them when it pleases him, selling only to s tores he likes and delivering them when he wants. Years ago, when he decided he’d had enough of the Paris show schedule, he simply opted to present his collection months after everyone else, and then soon after, s topped showing al together. Alaïa’s fierce independence was instilled by his gr andmother, who, he remembers, “always said, ‘Children until 7 should remain free. No need to clutter their heads with religion and other things. They need to live freely as children.’ ” He’s carried on this philosophy throughout his life. “I am still free,” he insists.

Integrity has always been of the highest importance to Alaïa and he is probably the only br and name designer who still cuts his own patterns. His garments are incredibly labour-intensive, combining old fashioned tailoring with the latest fabric and technology – some of his knitwear is made without a single seam. He insisted on ironing his own collection for his Berg dorf Goodman debut, and, despite finally opening a new flagship off the Avenue Montaigne later this year, he refuses to fill his new five shop win dows with gaudy displays. His publicity remains as streamlined and understated as his design. His company remains small — about $71 million a year in an industry where many br ands earn hundreds of millions in sales annually. His clothes appeal to a broad range of women, from true collec tors to young cus tomers investing in pieces that will stay in their wardrobe forever but somehow always are dans l’air du temps.

Described by Interview & Vanity Fair’s Ingrid Sischy as saying: “Follow me, garçon !”, Alaïa has an uncanny ability to bridge all of it seamlessly.

A gift. A vision. A craft.

On a last note, Azzedine Alaïa was tapped to take over Christian Dior after John Galliano was fired, but he turned the job down. Always coherent, “The s tory of what happened with John Galliano was a sad s tory. I did not want to be part of the next chapter.”. Azzedine seeks only but himself, remaining truly, literally and literary le dernier couturier de la haute.

In her memoirs, Grace Codding ton esteemed it : “There was so much artistry and couture cutting. Nothing was hidden away beneath embroidery or layers; they were just feminine clothes con touring the body perfectly. Azzedine Alaïa is a genius, and I don’t use that word lightly.”

One cannot but dream.

What if Alaïa went back chez Dior 50 years later?