A Father’s View of Fashion from the Front Row of a Paris Runway
Daniel Roseberry’s Cutting-Edge Couture Reminds Us Of What We Have Almost Forgotten
I am the father of Daniel Roseberry, the Creative Director behind the recent resurgence of the House of Schiaparelli, an iconic couture fashion house in Paris. I have had the fortune of an insider’s view into the glamorous and ethereal world of Paris high fashion. I have rubbed shoulders with celebrities and sat in the prime seats at Daniel’s widely buzzed-about runway shows where the most striking women in the world walk by wearing his artistic creations, showing beauty, pushing boundaries, and inspiring creative thinking across the globe. And these shows have often reminded me of a world too easy to forget today, a world to come.
I have been to a dozen fashion shows since Daniel arrived at Schiaparelli, and each one is a surreal experience. On the day of the show, paparazzi swarm the entrance of the venue, trying to snap a photo of celebrities as they exit their limos and enter the building. The place is hopping with the people I have seen in People magazine. The A-listers make their way up the steps, easily stopping and swaying to let their adoring fans and street photographers catch a glimpse of them wearing the Schiaparelli brand.
The last few shows, celebrities like Zendaya, J.Lo, and Rihanna, were almost seated beside my wife and me. (Many other women who have worn his designs need only their first name to be recognized: Taylor, Gaga, Beyoncé, Kim, and Adele.) Others are there, too: VIPs, fashion critics, journalists, customers, editors, clothing executives, television personalities, and leaders in the fashion world.
Candidly, I don’t know many of these people, their faces, or their names. (I have learned never to ask someone I don’t know who someone else is whom I don’t know. That’s awkward.)
As the show begins, the audience quiets, music begins, and expectations rise. Then, reminiscent of Daniel’s liturgical upbringing, the models form in a procession down the aisle, with crowds on either side. The music is moving. The models are stunning. Hundreds of mobile phone screens are hoisted in the air, capturing the models individually as they pass by. What they wear is beyond description. It must be seen to be believed.
Trickle Down
Many years ago, I did not understand what I was looking at when I saw runway clips on news shows or photos of models wearing their outfits. Much of it I didn’t like. It looked strange. I often wondered if a real person could wear what I saw on the runway. It turns out I was asking the wrong question. The eye-popping styles and sometimes wild looks on the runway are not daily clothes for the mall or dinner dates. The looks are art in motion. They are wearable sculptures. It is real — made with needles, threads, and fabrics — but in many ways, it is ethereal and conceptual.
The clothing on the runway makes a statement or suggests a theme. And, if you watch the fashion scene closely — as I do now; I have a monthly subscription to Vogue — you can see a trickle-down effect. Elements and concepts from one runway show seen in Paris 18 months ago can quickly make their way into the much broader world of everyday clothing or, even beyond, into other design elements all over the world.
For example, a dress with an exaggerated and outlandish sleeve could create a tidal wave of changes and redesigns of garments and blouses beyond the runway where it first appeared. Artwork from one look might inspire designers in different industries. Soon enough, women’s dresses from Los Angeles might morph into something that is a takeoff on a stylistic element from a runway halfway around the world. The influence of a look or design element made on a runway in one season can be seen on models in magazines, mannequins in windows at the mall, and even featured on a high-end handbag that is suddenly widely desired and out of stock.
Icons and Fashion
Those in the church world might relate to a fashion show by thinking about Greek icons. Imagine a Greek icon of the Apostle John, which I have sitting on my desk. The icon is written on a wood plank with a shiny shellacked surface. But it is strange. The figure is humanoid, yet it doesn’t look like a person. The forehead on the icon is enormously elongated. The hands are cartoonish, and the beard and hair are wavy and overdrawn. The folds of his red robe have a peculiar radiance, and there is a golden sheen around him. And Paul has a halo. Is this John? It barely looks human.
But these features mean something more than the merely visual; there is more there than meets the eye. The elongated forehead conveys an enlightened mind focused on heavenly thoughts, while the exaggerated fingers signify Paul’s spiritual power to bless people and his Gospel. Each element is a symbol, a spiritual archetype beyond our mundane reality.
That is the deeper purpose of an icon — it is an image we can see, yet also one we should see through. It is okay to stare at an icon. Why? Because an icon communicates and connects us to a meaning beyond what is immediately visible.
I have come to see fashion shows in the same way. Here comes a woman. She walks down an aisle between crowds of artists, photographers, designers, writers, and image-makers. She is stunning. Even striking. She wears beautifully and imaginatively developed clothing, jewelry, handbags, and accessories. I stare at her. It is hard not to stare. And as I stare, I let the artistry and creativity lead me beyond the moment. I don’t judge. Of course, I have opinions, but I don’t judge. I simply look. And I try to see art. Sometimes, I see that the look points me toward something glorious, something almost ineffable beyond this singular moment.
Reminders
Samuel Johnson famously said that people need to be reminded more often than they need to be instructed. I believe that is true. The runway collection of images reminds people of something in this world that is beautiful and that points to a beauty beyond. C. S. Lewis echoes this idea in his wartime sermon “The Weight of Glory.”
“We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words — to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.”
I have been a Christian for five decades, and a pastor for four of them, and I know the world is not always beautiful. Bad things happen to all people. But the Christian faith I have held for most of my life tells me that everything is always redeemable through the ministry of Jesus Christ. Beauty and glory can be found at the end of nearly anything. The Resurrection of Jesus makes even the Cross beautiful — so beautiful we make it into gold or silver jewelry. And I also know this for sure: if we look for real beauty and follow where it will lead us, we will finally discover God, its Author and Creator.
Of course, I am very proud of my son as I am of all my children. But that is not why I often cry at these fashion shows. I cry because I can often see something in a brief and beautiful respite from this otherwise coarse and caustic world that leads me to see something else. Something even more beautiful. And I am reminded again that seeing real beauty in this world is a gift, and it points to Real Beauty in the next.
David Roseberry writes posts and books on relevant topics, applying biblical truth and wisdom. His work can be found at LeaderWorks, where he is Executive Director.
