An obsession that cannot die out, interview with An Vandevorst

A stretch of wrought iron hospital beds and young girls asleep in sheer stockings, fitted skirts, and pastel-toned cardigans, standing out in contrast with the whiteness of the sheets. Each one of them awakens from sleep and walks the runway, except for one, who, while waiting for her turn, has actually fallen asleep. It’s 1999, and An Vandevorst and Filip Arickx, who had met just a few years earlier in the classrooms of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp, are presenting their second collection in a performance-show destined to go down in history, both for its naïve charm and its narrative power. Although they are only at the beginning, the inspirations that will accompany them for the next twenty years are already all there: Joseph Beuys, the Red Cross, religion, horses and equestrian accessories, rivets, lingerie, uniforms, and hints of fetishism. A mixture of references that recurs like a drumbeat, an obsession that cannot die out, but always in a new form, leaving room for wonder. Today, the brand no longer exists, by the founders' own choice, but in the anonymity of the barren countryside sets, in the automation of quiet luxury and Instagram feeds, fashion is more nostalgic than ever—not so much for a well-defined historical era, but for that peculiar way of working where a garment could transport us to a universe, become the spokesperson for an aesthetic and value system, and transcend the banality of reality. The aesthetic codes moved in a balance between masculine and feminine, sacred and profane, construction and deconstruction—the legacies of the Belgian school: an incomparable and unrepeatable mix that is now longed for amidst the ruins of a sector that instead dangerously veers towards anonymity. We talked about obsession and performance, about what remains of creativity and how to protect it, about the advent of social media and the changing industry, as well as her role as advisor at Polimoda, with An Vandevorst in a conversation that lasted more than an hour.

Sleeping Beauties SS99

Sleeping Beauties SS99

Sleeping Beauties SS99

Bath house SS00

Bath house SS00

Bath house SS00

Lexus AW04

Lexus AW04

Lexus AW04

Safe Breath SS07

Safe Breath SS07

Safe Breath SS07

Amazon Centaur AW09

Amazon Centaur AW09

Amazon Centaur AW09

Warriors SS12

Warriors SS12

Warriors SS12

Warriors SS12

Warriors SS12

Lexus AW04

The first question is about the recurring elements in your creations. I read an old interview in which you said that you collect hospital furniture, that's a detail that really caught my attention: it seems that it's not just inspiration, but obsession.

It's really curious that you ask me that, because I've been using the word obsession a lot lately, especially with students or people who ask me for advice, because I firmly believe it's obsession that really gives you the drive, that determines a need. At least that's how it works for me: obsessions control my life and blur the line between life, work and passion. There is no distinction. And I think anyone who wants to be in this profession has to confront the question, "Is this really what I want to do? Could I live without this urgence, this desire to create?" If you are obsessed, you have no choice. 

And what about the hospital furniture?

We used to have a warehouse, a large studio in Antwerp, where we kept all the furniture we used for showrooms or presentations. Now we keep them at home, along with other furniture we saved for the next special occasion.

Speaking of special occasions, your shows have always been true performances rather than just a straightforward line of bodies walking the runway. I think of SS00, where young women dressed in sheer fabrics moved simultaneously in different trajectories before immersing themselves in the waters of the Oberkampf pool in Paris. Or SS07, where girls imitated Jansenist nuns with their mouths covered in white cotton pads to avoid accidentally killing insects or any other living being just by breathing. And then SS16, in which models were picked up on motorcycles from the backstage door and circled the building before being dropped in the courtyard of the Paris Descartes Faculty of Medicine. Performance, creating a narrative and an experience that remains a vivid memory in the viewer's mind, has been a distinctive element of your work over the years. But how does performance fit into our perception of a garment?

Fashion is a language; it's the story we want to tell, and our language and story have been strong from the beginning. Visuality is crucial. A piece of clothing must meet certain criteria to be wearable, otherwise, it’s not really clothing. The real challenge is placing it within a framework that is attractive, finding a new way to look at that garment. After all, a pair of pants remains a pair of pants, but the way you present it completely changes its perception.

And what role does music play in this process?

It’s a key element of the narrative, another of my obsessions.

In 1998, for your first show, you gave each model a cassette containing three songs: David Bowie's Wild is the Wind, Sonic Youth’s Superstar, and Charlene’s I’ve Never Been to Me. In each of your collections, music was chosen with surgical precision to complete the narrative in which the music itself plays a crucial role. If you had to choose three tracks for that tape today, to give to the models to hum while walking the runway, what would they be?

It depends on the story. Choosing three songs without a story is really difficult, but it would probably be electronic music. Sometimes I find a track, for example, too masculine or too cold, almost military, and then I try to make it sound more seductive or feminine. I like creating this tension with music, and it’s actually a very similar approach to the method I use for a collection or a specific garment. It’s about playing with contrasts sometimes. I collect tracks relentlessly, archive them in specific software, and then arrange them. I do it very naively, very simply, but it works for me.

Regarding your education, you’ve always mentioned the Antwerp Six as a reference for subsequent generations of designers. What truly determined the rise of Belgian fashion?

I believe the secret lies in the fact that we never had great financial support. We always sought creative solutions, in exhibitions, sales, collection creation, reaching the audience, staying true to our vision, without following or analysing trends. For example, this was one of the reasons we stopped, because it all became too market analysis-based. Clients started coming to showrooms with their PCs, Filip and I looked at each other and wondered, “What’s happening?” Buyers used to come in, either love or hate the collection, and then they would either buy it or not. They used to follow their instinct. Then instinct turned into marketing, merchandising, all those words... and we thought the new generations were better at this. We also realised that storytelling tools in shows remained, but not the storytelling environments. And from that moment on, we decided it was time to stop, that we had enjoyed it a lot, but it was time to do something else.

Peru White trash AW15

Peru White trash AW15

Motorbikes SS16

Motorbikes SS16

Motorbikes SS16

Peru White trash AW15

Peru White trash AW15

Peru White trash AW15

And how do you think social media has contributed to this “loss of innocence”?

Back then, when we started, we spent a lot of money on a press agent and organizing fashion shows in Paris to showcase our work to the world. The great advantage of social media is that you can be visible in an instant. They can be a great tool, and you can control them: you can easily manage what you post and at what pace. Another aspect that has changed over the years is the relationship between the brand and the end consumer, a blind trust that has definitely been lost. The customer would see the few pieces that buyers selected for them in stores, without realizing that there was a collection 20 times larger behind those garments. The end consumer never had the opportunity to see the entire collection. Now, through social media, everyone has access to fashion shows—literally everyone—and it’s as simple as searching for a piece on Google, clicking, and saying: “I want it.” But it happens that the store didn’t buy that particular piece, either because they couldn’t or because there wasn’t a budget to purchase the entire collection. So stores are stressed because they no longer know what to buy. Then there’s the issue of designers, which is another big problem for the entire industry. Senior designers sometimes struggle to find a place because brands hire junior designers or celebrities to create the collections. But every brand needs a cohesive effort to translate the story of a show into consistent garments. Today, we have the perception that fashion is just entertainment, but it’s not; fashion is about clothes.

What advice do you give your students?

At the end of the school year, I propose new ideas or adjustments for the coming year, (based on my observations of the year that came to an end and the feedback we got from the teachers.), to make the courses strong, coherent and keep them up to date. Together with Massimiliano (Giornetti) and the coordinator, we make the new programs. When the new school year starts I explain to the entire team of teachers the vision of the courses and which changes are made. Then from November, I come in when the programs are already underway to give my feedback and have an overview. It’s nice to work and create in a creative environment like Polimoda, because it’s like moving in a kind of bubble. I felt the same during my time at the Academy. It was my safe place. You have all the time and space to explore yourself, and you can learn so much from other students and teachers. It’s a constant exchange.

What advice do you give your students?

I advise the students not to do copy-paste, to find their own voice. As I said before, fashion is a language, and you need to learn to speak it, to express yourself, to understand how to arrive at a form, how form and body interact with each other. You need to absorb, absorb, absorb. And above all, you need to learn to see opportunities, especially those that are already crossing your path.