In the past, I've accused Christian Lacroix of being... well... batshit insane. His career has been more about designing costumes than clothes. In fact, I believe I've described his clientele as "circus people" and "crazy ladies." Recall Edina Monsoon screaming "Lacroix, sweetie! Lacroix!" And I must admit, I felt more than a smidgen of schadenfreude when I heard he was filing for bankruptcy. After all, his house never turned a profit. Ever. How long can you expect to light money on fire before you finally have to give up?
And yet, the story of his final collection is bittersweet and strangely heartwarming. Seamstresses, shoemakers, and other artisans donated their time and skills to help the bankrupt Mr. Lacroix finish his collection. The models were paid the legal minimum of 50 Euros. And the results, I must say, are pretty fucking fabulous.
This is the most connected I've ever felt to a Lacroix collection. With his resources drastically reduced, he's created pieces that are subdued, but sublime. When a great artist is faced with constraints, sometimes the fundamental nature of his talent is even more clearly revealed.
