On September 28, 1998, the Gatliff Warehouse in London's Victoria neighbourhood hosted Alexander McQueen's Spring/Summer 1999 show, No. 13. Fashion critics and editors, dressed to impress, jostled for seats, to see what McQueen did best. The show started with uncharacteristically bland clothes from McQueen—elegant and impeccably tailored yet lacking his usual theatrical flair. Then chaos erupted. Former ballet dancer and model Shalom Harlow presented the final piece: a strapless white tulle dress. Suddenly, "The Swan" by Camille Saint-Saëns replaced the electronic music, and two robots began spraying Harlow with black and neon yellow paint as she flailed her arms on a rotating platform. In her editorial, veteran critic Sarah Mower recalls, “Then the robots came alive.” Harlow, a former ballet dancer, delivered a performance that transcended fashion.
McQueen’s No. 13 would be remembered more as performative art than a runway show. At 30, McQueen had long solidified his reputation as both a designer with his eponymous brand, with creations like the bumster pants, and as an artist with runway shows such as “The Birds,” which got him the Givenchy gig, along with managing his label, a common practice that still remains popular today.
In frame - Lee Alexander McQueen
Think of creative directors as film directors. Both oversee multiple departments to produce a visual piece of art. A film director collaborates with the director of photography, the music director, writers, actors, and editors to “direct” a film. Multiple directors can work on a single franchise, but the good ones not only try to push the envelope further but do so with their distinctive taste. Take the movies Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986), directed by Ridley Scott and James Cameron respectively. Both feature the same chest-cavity-breaking Xenomorphs, the same Ripley, and the same likeable yet expendable group of red shirts. Yet, the execution of the two movies remains independently and distinctively impressive.
You can watch a movie or TV show, but you can't touch or feel it. Fashion, while being a visual art form, is also tactile and abstract. This is where the role of a creative director expands. They work with materials, patterns, house codes, and the intricacies of putting on a runway show. Unlike film directors, who might work on one project for several years, fashion creative directors do this multiple times a year, often for more than one house. The biggest difference is that while film directors are hired by different studios periodically, a creative director in fashion is typically an employee—albeit a highly paid one—subjected to corporate politics like the rest of us.
In frame - John Galliano with Bernard Arnault
The term "creative director" began gaining popularity after Bernard Arnault's LVMH empire started swallowing couture houses like Christian Dior, Givenchy, Fendi, and others. Arnault saw the potential for commercializing high-fashion brands, intending to do so through haute couture, the pinnacle of artistic expression for a fashion designer. For him, marketing would stem from the theatricality of runway shows, a quality lacking in the Paris scene but thriving in Britain.
Hence, John Galliano, who at the time was putting out highly conceptual designs with his eponymous brand, was hired to lead Dior, and the mercurial McQueen joined Givenchy. Soon, both not only served as the head fashion designers but also became the faces of their brands. The British designers did more than pose for red carpet-photos; they infused their unique visions into the brands' ethos. And it worked—Arnault raked in billions.
However, the wolf in Cashmere can't take all the credit for the upheaval. Traditionally conservative brands like Hermès had started dipping their toes in artistic expression. In April 1997, the house hired Belgian designer Martin Margiela as the new creative director. A big deal for a classic family-owned luxury Parisian house like Hermès. Margiela, a pioneer of deconstruction, brought innovations like split-toe boots and clothes meant to be worn back to front at his eponymous brand.
Still from Katt Debo's book Margiela Hermes Years
His appointment at Hermès was controversial, with some even fantasizing about Margiela cutting a Kelly bag in half, as recalled by Kaat Debo during her 2017 interview with Dazed. At the time, critics expected avant-garde concepts from Belgian designers, yet Margiela's debut AW98 collection was described as "tame" compared to his earlier work, shifting the focus to quality over concepts. Years later, Margiela's brilliance would be fully appreciated at Hermès. The highly private designer managed to infuse his incredible respect for women and desire for them to feel comfortable, happy, and unrestricted in their clothes. His clothes were designed for the body, not the other way around. Margiela's work may have seemed less visually radical, but quietly, he was crafting a timeless wardrobe—clothes that wouldn't be dated by patterns or bright colours.
Fast forward a few decades later, similar expectations were placed on Alessandro Michele when he took over at Gucci in 2014. Critics anticipated Michele's torrent of references and wild pattern-matching to be on full display at his debut, but it wasn’t until his sophomore effort did he begin to do a 180 degree flip and take Gucci, from a sexy, sophisticated brand curated by its former creative directors, Tom Ford and Frida Giannini, to a geek-chic aesthetic with maximalist undertones. Today, after Michele’s departure in 2022, the brand appears to be shifting its direction once again, opting for a "quiet luxury" approach under the vision of current creative director Sabato De Sarno.
In frame - Alessandro Michele with Demna
With the explosion of social media, fashion transformed into a voyeuristic spectacle. Suddenly, the focus shifted from the garments themselves to the personalities behind them. People hungered for glimpses into designers' lives—sneaking peeks into their homes, music tastes, and overall personas. It wasn't merely about wearing a Gucci suit anymore; it was about embodying the lifestyle curated by Michele for Gucci. This shift was rapid, grabbing the attention of brands. In the era of social media, disruption was the name of the game. Demna Gvasalia, the visionary behind Vetements, took the reins at Balenciaga, a house founded by the legendary Cristóbal Balenciaga, considered as the best Couturier of all time. Yet, Gvasalia's Balenciaga, especially in its early stages was the complete opposite of this, revelled in experimentation, often tiptoeing on the edge of parodying its clientele. It was now becoming evident that the creative directors were dictating how high-street houses would be perceived, instead of the other way around.
In frame - Virgil Abloh
In 2018, Louis Vuitton would announce Virgil Abloh, as its artistic director of menswear. While streetwear had been around for decades before Abloh's appointment, the designer, famously without a fashion school background, propelled the brand into a new realm of popularity. Something which he had done before with his brand Off-White. But apart from his vision, what Abloh brought to the table was his vision, his influence on diversity and inclusion, and partly due to his celebrity persona. After his passing, the reins were passed to Pharrell Williams, who had earned a reputation as a cultural icon, not just because of his music, but the celebrity connection he brought with him.
Cristóbal Balenciaga once remarked, “A couturier must be an architect for design, a sculptor for shape, a painter for color, a musician for harmony, and a philosopher for temperance." Decades down the line his words still ring true, today, fashion designers aren't just designers. Neither are they just creative or artistic directors. They are visionaries, storytellers, and arbiters of cultural relevance, shaping not just trends but the very fabric of our collective aesthetic consciousness. They are the architects of our sartorial future.
