Two major showcases in Paris in contrasting conditions brought different learnings. One, love for the craft and couture, and the other, positivity and importance of togetherness in times of despair
Artisans at work for Rahul Mishra’s Couture Fall digital showcase for the Paris Haute Couture Week
Having been invited to showcase at the Paris Haute Couture Week last November, my atelier was met with momentous news—one of great joy, a sense of accomplishment and challenge. ‘Haute Couture’, as defined by the French governing body of fashion, FHCM, translates to ‘high dressmaking’—the best there is, in fashion, craftsmanship, tailoring and artistic value. As would be any designer’s dream, the honour was bestowed upon me to showcase at the prestigious platform alongside the world’s best and most reputed pioneers of fashion.
We had eight to 10 weeks to craft a collection that would represent the best we could put out. Being the first designer from India to showcase at the platform, it had to be an appropriate representation of the country while being true to our own identity.
It was an opportunity to explore my clothes as a canvas for my vivid imagination—the infinite incessant thoughts that would only be vaguely translated in prêt-à-porter otherwise. It was a beautiful dream with some not-so-handsome turns. Being a slow fashion brand, our preferred processes of craftsmanship, such as hand weaving and hand embroidery, take eons to make the first sample.
I remember sitting across the khat (embroidery frame) with some embroiderers, my textiles team, discussing the 14th colour we intended to use on the painterly embroidery artwork that was placed on the dress and contemplating the thought of participation.
On January 23, the show was like a first—the same enthusiasm, hard work, anticipation and nerves. I remember the late nights at our makeshift studio in Paris amidst castings, fittings and alteration of garments… my small team and I sat hand-hemming some last-minute changes with soothing herbal tea on the side. We talked of the joy, love and beauty we were surrounded by. And after the bustle of steam irons, hanger rails, hair and make-up and all the backstage jazz, it was a seven-minute show. It was over just like that.
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