When a brand finds the perfect successor to its founder

Finding a new creative director for a historic brand is difficult. Amid countless false starts, disappointing debut collections, brands left without creative direction for months, and designers replaced after just two or three collections, confidence in the arrival of a “perfect successor” has significantly diminished. Gucci and Burberry have been the two brands struggling the most to find a figure capable of hitting the mark, but even Sean McGirr at Alexander McQueen faced considerable challenges with his debut show, and similar doubts and uncertainties surrounded the debut collections of Peter Copping at Lanvin and Veronica Leoni at Calvin Klein—both valid and well-received but lacking the enthusiastic and unanimous love at first sight that was seen in Paris yesterday for two other debut collections from new creative directors: Julian Klausner at Dries Van Noten and Haider Ackermann at Tom Ford. These two new creative directors are very different from each other: the first was an internal promotion, taking on his first creative direction after six years in the brand’s ateliers and was not very well-known; the second, on the other hand, is quite the opposite—he is a cult designer among fashion connoisseurs, whose talent had not yet found a creative direction to fully express itself in recent years. Yet their mission was similar. Both Dries Van Noten and Tom Ford, despite being very different brands, had just seen their respective creative directors retire—two industry veterans celebrated for crafting a highly personal aesthetic that was, above all, elusive to imitation. Both brands had presented strong “interregnum” collections (Dries Van Noten's was designed by the team, while Tom Ford’s was overseen by interim creative director Peter Hawkings), but they needed that je-ne-sais-quoi that only a fresh vision and a talented designer can provide. And yesterday, to the great relief of the audience, both new creative directors proved to be perfectly up to the task.

Both Klausner and Ackermann faced a significant challenge. The former, at Dries Van Noten, had to demonstrate both that a brand with a delicate and complex aesthetic was in good hands and that he could replicate Van Noten’s signature style without making it a sterile repetition. This was frankly difficult to even imagine, given that Dries Van Noten never worked with a predefined formula and never adhered to trends—simplifying or “copying” his style would have completely stripped it of its essence. Klausner’s approach was twofold: spontaneity and concreteness. The spontaneous nature of the collection gave it that sort of impressionistic aura, that opulent ecstasy of the senses for which Van Noten has always been known: the delicate alchemy of textures, colors, and prints that, layering, combining, and accumulating, immediately convey the feeling that the garments are about to transform into something else. This effect was evident both in relatively simple looks, such as a vivid indigo trench coat or a curiously draped green dress, and in more imaginative ones, where brocades and plaid prints shimmered with crystal embellishments, upturned lapels revealed flashes of white details, or cobalt jackets with raised patterns were paired with fringed belts and devoré skirts in petrol green that shifted to blue depending on the light. The concreteness was represented by the wearability of the garments, which were designed to be immediately translated into the real world rather than mere conceptual abstractions. The collection would be worthy of a full description—or better yet, seeing and feeling it firsthand—but the message is clear: Klausner perfectly understood the essence of the brand. He did not attempt to turn it into something else nor coldly replicate a style. There was intent and romance, but also a deep understanding of what made Van Noten’s unique brand of romanticism work.

At Tom Ford, the task was both simpler and more difficult. Ford’s brand has become a cult favorite for its ability to create and evoke an aura of sensuality that is a kind of attitude. The most beloved products are undoubtedly the incredible fragrances and sunglasses, but Tom Ford’s success has always been driven by its menswear clientele, which represents the majority of the business and consists of highly affluent individuals who align with a certain lifestyle—both elegant and hedonistic—precisely what Ford himself embodies. His menswear is appreciated because even a simple sweater or jacket possesses sleek lines and a silhouette that immediately makes one feel sexy. However, in recent years, Tom Ford’s own collections had begun to dangerously verge on self-indulgence: too many slim-fit trousers, too much lamé fabric, animal prints, colors that were vibrant yet cloying, and modern sportswear details that felt overly artificial in the designer’s world of disco decadence. Ackermann retained everything that was good and stripped away the excess: yesterday, on the runway, Alex Consani wore a stunning gown that recalled Halston’s draped designs but with an added level of sexiness and a draping so precisely executed it seemed miraculous. The contrast-colored suits were perfectly balanced, and there was a series of simpler looks that incorporated all the excess for which Tom Ford is known (white crocodile tops, a long skirt asymmetrically draped around the waist with a leather strap revealing the most intimate and erogenous part of the hip, as well as a green dress that covered the front but plunged dangerously low at the back) with a level of restraint and refinement that translated Ford’s signature incandescence into the most sophisticated version possible.

What was the secret behind both designers’ success? It can undoubtedly be said that their task was not easy, but it was made easier by the fact that, for both Dries Van Noten and Tom Ford, the brand identity was so perfectly defined. The issues that often arise when a creative director fails to convince stem from the fact that when a brand becomes too large and too commercial, and its history becomes overly layered, neither the internal management nor the external clientele has a clear perception of what the brand represents and who its customer is. There is also the more “corporate” aspect of brand management to consider: LVMH and Kering brands tend to operate according to a precise expansion manual that is undoubtedly effective but also creates an atmosphere of artificiality and top-down control—the feeling that there are too many cooks in the kitchen, so to speak. Meanwhile, it is evident that these two brands, though part of large groups (Puig and Zegna, respectively), are still less monolithic and mass-driven than the two French giants, allowing them to work with greater ease and without the same level of pressure, both internal and media-driven, that often crushes creative directors debuting at major brands. And the topic of the perfect successor is crucial, especially since, as is true, Loewe will soon need to find one, as will Gucci and Jil Sander—just to name the most significant cases. However, yesterday’s shows proved that finding the perfect successor is difficult but not impossible. In fashion, amid the adulation and hypocrisy that reign backstage and in the front row, it is hard to define exactly what makes a good match—but one can certainly recognize it when it appears.