Valentino, Retrospective: a hothouse of heady blooms
Well, now I’m back in overcast Melbourne, you might ask: was it worth flying to Brisbane to see the Valentino exhibition? Although he has never been a favourite haute couturier of mine, the chance to see a fashion designer’s life’s work was not to be missed. … So yes, it was worth even the harrowing flight home.
My friend and I expected to see a long queue when we arrived at Queensland’s Gallery of Modern Art, and we were not disappointed. We patiently waited along with everyone else: a well-dressed crowd of mostly women.
Fittingly, the entrance to Valentino, Retrospective: Past/Present/Future was grand: a black hall with two mannequins on glowing pedestals, backed with mirrors that reflected the breathtaking gowns – and the excited women teeming about, waiting for their turn to approach them. The first, a vivid red strapless cocktail dress of roses swathed in chiffon did not excite me as much as the second. A flamingo pink column topped with a cape that could only be described as fabric sculpture: it was stunning. Thousands of petals seemingly sewn on end that I imagine must flutter like a sea anemone in motion.
There were froth, frills and roses in exuberant overabundance, like a hothouse filled with heady blooms to overpower the senses.
Afterwards, we passed on into a larger room, filled with extraordinary ensembles – mostly evening gowns. Although I did not like everything I saw, the exquisite detail and construction of every piece was fascinating, distinguished by the most extraordinary fabrics and textures. The overwhelming impression was one of richness: minimalist garments that relied on graphic shapes and simple blocks of colour vied with gowns that writhed with an excess of textured fabrics; embellished patterns; riotous colour! There were froth, frills and roses in exuberant overabundance, like a hothouse filled with heady blooms to overpower the senses.
Several garments stand out (good and bad) in my mind: the extraordinary embroidered red and white gown, with its matching hand-made lace stole, worn by a Bulgarian princess; graphic black and white animal prints on shapes to soothe a graphic designer’s soul; a frivolous and delightful bohemian outfit consisting of an orange tunic and frilled trousers, worn by Princess Grace to a ball; an outfit of rose-pinks, the lining of the coat a geometric pattern of amazing appliqué; a simple 60s floor-length short-sleeved gown made from luxurious satin, featuring rolled trim on neckline and sleeves – but utterly ruined (in my opinion) by a poorly executed hand-painted coral pattern. It didn’t need it: the gown would have stood up by itself easily.
I liked least the gowns and outfits trimmed to within an inch of their life with rose motifs – some of these reminded me of nothing so much as those kitsch dolls in crinolines, used to hold rolls of toiletpaper back in the 70s. There was a blouse and pants combination that struck my friend and myself as rather odd: was it the flat front of the devoré velvet trousers, or the enormous sash that trailed the floor? Or was it the enormous roses tucked inside the balloon sleeves of the quite beautiful lace blouse? They could be quite irritating to the wearer, brushing against her wrists as she moved. I imagined her ripping them out at the end of the night when she undressed. There was another black 60s cocktail dress with a double balloon-puff skirt – the pink roses stuffed under the hem seemed another unnecessary last-minute addition to me.
At the other end of the spectrum were the simple gowns that relied on more subtle decorative effects; these appealed much more to me. Slim columns with vertical piping or beading; monochromatic outfits so beautifully designed, relying on contrasting shapes and proportions for impact. Memorable were the lace appliqué stockings of the 60s; a black and white trapeze-shaped coat entirely worked over with Battenberg lace; a little pale pink suit from from the S/S 2008 collection, worn with matching elbow-length gloves – its entire surface was decorated with tiny triangular petals forming squares. I wanted to touch it, to ruffle its feathers. For maximum impact, the displays in the second room were arranged in colour groups: white, black, black and white, and the signature Valentino red.
The exhibition itself was well-designed: two rooms of gowns divided by a third room exhibiting archival photographs and magazines, and video displays of the haute couture A/W 09-10 runway show and also the recent film (well worth seeing): Valentino: the Last Emperor, (2009) produced and directed by Matt Tyrnauer. It’s a great pity the exhibition catalogue was sold out however, and photography was forbidden.
Afterwards, my friend and I walked out, considerably enriched by the experience fantasising how wonderful it would be to wear some of these gowns. Then we sat down and swapped our heels for flats, for as my friend declared, we had paid respect to the Maestro.
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Images of exhibition from Queensland Gallery of Modern Art, The Brisbane Times and The Australian.