Off on a semester abroad, SSLA contributor, USC undergrad and former Vogue intern Jeremy Allen muses about Paris Fashion Week.
I’ve always preferred Paris’ more anonymous nooks to the sprawling, sparkling glamour of the Champs-Élysées. Yesterday, that all changed.
Where globalization has transformed this boulevard into a chicer version of the Beverly Center, a fresh injection of pure Parisian panache arrives à grace de Vogue Paris. The magazine has reclaimed the Champs with appropriate fanfare, mounting a retrospective of its most iconic covers.
It’s almost possible to ignore the swarms of snap-happy tourists (myself included) when you find yourself encircled by 90 years worth of imagery, from the lush geometric illustrations of Georges Lepape or Benito to the crisp, candy-colored work of Mert Alas and Marcus Piggott. There’s the romance of Robert Doisneau’s mid-century cityscapes and the energy of David Bailey’s 60s shots; the slick sex-appeal of Helmut Newton’s work or the atmospheric quality of Irving Penn’s.
Everyone from Salvador Dali to Marc Chagall has put their definitive stamp on Vogue Paris’ covers, and the result is remarkable. Of course, Kate Moss’ ubiquitous mug can be seen pouting from miles away (not only is she this month’s Vogue Paris cover girl, but the Brit icon was somehow selected to embody the essence of le Parisienne, YSL’s new fragrance).
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The true delight, however, is in rare finds from the archives: a Jean Pages illustrated cover from 1940 features a woman (and her plumed hat) retreating from two Nazi soldiers. Times change, but one thing is certain: Vogue Paris has never compromised its vision, whether aesthetic or ideological. Viva la France! — Jeremy Allen
Photos by Jeremy Allen
