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Véronique Nichanian on life at the helm of Hermès menswear

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  • Véronique Nichanian on life at the helm of Hermès menswear

    The National, UAE
    January 15, 2012 Sunday


    Véronique Nichanian on life at the helm of Hermès menswear


    Style is defined by the way you make your clothes work with your body,
    not by fashion, says the 35-year veteran of the menswear industry.

    Véronique Nichanian is having none of it. "If there's one question I
    get asked that really annoys me," she says, "it's the one that
    suggests it's a strange idea for a woman to be designing exclusively
    for men. It suggests there is something surprising in that, although
    nobody seems surprised by the number of male designers only designing
    womenswear. But it's also a sign of how society and the fashion
    industry have moved on that I'm asked that less and less now."

    That is probably the best policy. After all, Nichanian is, as it has
    said on her business card since her promotion last year, "Artistic
    Director of the Hermès Men's Universe". That sounds like an awfully
    big job, even for a company not notorious for slapping its name on
    just anything it might be able to make a euro from. It is also the
    only pompous thing about the relaxed, chatty and chic Nichanian, who
    started her career in menswear design 35 years ago, as a stylist for
    Cerruti. Far from a steady progression up the fashion industry ladder,
    the next stop was her appointment to oversee the fledgling men's
    ready-to-wear at Hermès. Hermès itself celebrates its 175th
    anniversary next year.

    And she is still there, making her one of the industry's
    longest-serving creatives at a single fashion house, seeing the
    company recently open its first menswear-only store and herself
    appointed to France's Legion of Honour. Yet, despite this, she is one
    of the industry's least well-known names, a fact attributable to her
    willingness to let the clothes do the talking, and her reluctance to
    have her picture taken at every Parisian soirée.

    "I didn't have a planned career when I joined Hermès," she says. "In
    fact, I only met Jean-Louis Dumas [the late chairman of Hermès] to
    tell him I was happy at Cerruti. But he sold the job - and its
    potential - with such passion I was convinced.

    "Did I think I'd be there two decades later? Not at all. Where will I
    be in five years? I don't know. But as long as I'm happy here, I'll
    still be with Hermès."

    The company's approach to its defiantly logo-free menswear (and this
    is definitely clothing for men, not for skinny fashion boys) seems
    particularly timely, focusing on pricey but considered clothing that
    is slow to date, making the outlay worthwhile and the recessionary
    purchase all the more sensible. The new spring/summer collection reads
    like a rundown of menswear staples: two-button suits, double-front
    buttoning cardigans, sailor neckline sweaters and other miscellaneous
    bits of knitwear, narrow straight trousers, the only distinctive
    design touch being a dabbling with the drawstring, be that on trouser
    waists or the backs of raincoats. The colours are equally safe - navy,
    white, black and shades of what the fashion lingo that describes them
    calls "clay" and "tile".

    It is mostly in the fabrics that there is invention amid the
    classicism: piqué cashmere, raffia-effect cloth, crepe cotton,
    double-faced and silkscreened lambskin, technical cotton canvas ...
    And it is talk of fabrics that gets Nichanian most energised, with
    memories of hanging out around Paris's Marché Saint Pierre cloth
    market as a teenager, and tales of how she pushed Hermès's
    craftspeople to create, for example, a matt finish on nubuck
    crocodile, despite their protestations that it couldn't be done. Even
    so, there is nothing to scare les chevaux here. And what a relief to
    be free of the wilfully radical. Unusually for a brand at this level,
    everything you see on the catwalk will be available in the shops.
    There are no wacky pieces designed simply to attract press attention.

    "I'm interested in clothes more than fashion," explains the
    French-Armenian designer, who trained at the noted Ecole de la Chambre
    Syndicale de la Couture Parisienne. "I think of clothes as objects -
    functional and comfortable, both of which are especially important in
    menswear. It's a more modern approach to produce timeless clothes than
    a new 'look' every season. In fact, I don't know if that demand for
    seasonal change really has a future - surely it's better to be able
    just to buy a piece of clothing because you love it, to be able to
    wear it for years and add it to a wardrobe of clothes you've already
    been wearing for years? Of course, fashion is a business. But I do
    like the idea of only showing a new collection when the designer has
    something to say, not every six months."

    With the differences between one of her collections and another
    measured in maybe millimetres - the slope of a shoulder, the length of
    a jacket - she works in what she has termed "radical continuity".
    That, of course, is in itself a radical idea, albeit one that seems to
    be gathering momentum. Nichanian fights shy of clothes that overpower
    the personality of her imaginary man - or her sometime muse-like
    husband - as much as for herself; for the office she dresses in that
    characteristically French, sexily mannish way in which the high gloss
    somehow pulls off a low-maintenance look.

    "Although," she counters, "[stylish dressing] is a question of
    attitude rather than nationality. Despite the stereotype, French men
    are no better-dressed than men anywhere else. When you've got it,
    you've got it! You can look around on the street wherever you are and
    see very stylish people - it's defined by the way they make their
    clothes work with their body, and the way they mix them together. It's
    not about fashion."

    How a Hermès wardrobe is put together is down to the wearer - and with
    more individuality the better, Nichanian reckons, even if that means
    an occasional lapse in Parisian haute taste. Certainly, all she wants,
    she says, is for her menswear "to make the men wearing it feel
    handsome and good about themselves, as clothes should. Most men like
    the subtleties, which suits me. I don't like chichi things. I prefer
    the simple but precise. For me the real expression isn't in big
    statements, but in fabrics and detail."

    It is a definition of the luxury product perhaps - carefully
    considered, artfully crafted with the best materials and an aesthetic
    free of any "use by" date. Indeed, perhaps now more than ever, just
    such a definition needs stressing for those companies for whom it is a
    genuine stock-in-trade - not for nothing is Nichanian given free rein
    to create what she wants, regardless of the end ticket price. She also
    laments the idea that, while Hermès is often referred to as a "luxury"
    brand, "luxury doesn't really come into it, especially because
    'luxury' doesn't seem to have any real meaning now - it's like being a
    'star'. It's a loose word - one of those silly superlatives that now
    gets applied to anything".

    "What I do with Hermès menswear is luxury by the old definition," she
    adds. "And that luxury is actually about time - which is what is
    needed to give scope to the attention to detail in an object - and the
    appreciation of particular values. It's the companies that are seen to
    support clear values that people are paying more and more attention to
    now. And after 20 years or more, that's very refreshing."


    From: Baghdasarian
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