McQueen and Givenchy meet at Sarah Burton's debut for the maison

At Sarah Burton's debut show for Givenchy, the seats were stacks of paper bags inspired by the founder’s archive files. Judging by the contrast between the brand’s heritage enclosed in those pages and the sound of paper being crushed under the attendees’ seats, one could expect a show full of history and self-irony—and that’s exactly what it was. Taking over the creative direction of the French maison represents the closing of a circle for the designer, a protégée of Alexander McQueen who followed in his footsteps, first taking the reins of his brand and then joining Givenchy’s ateliers as he did from 1996 to 2001. Of course, if Hubert de Givenchy’s designs embodied timeless elegance, the same could not be said for McQueen’s works—stylistic masterpieces that, beyond leaving audiences speechless, served as a critique of the fashion industry and the society shaped by the paradox of luxury in the ‘90s. In short, Sarah Burton had very different reference points for this collection: on one side, Givenchy’s Audrey Hepburn-like refinement, and on the other, Lee McQueen’s sensational sarcasm. Considering the tumultuous relationship between the French maison and the enfant terrible—who had fiercely criticized the brand’s parent company, LVMH, for attempting to chain his creativity in favor of commercial appeal—merging the two worlds could have been a tricky task for the British designer. However, as always, Burton managed to handle things with order and balance, blending irony and elegance in just the right doses to create a collection that was as charming as it was seductive, commercial yet still filled with conversation-worthy pieces. 

 Sarah Burton knows how to craft a tailored women’s suit. There’s no need to even glance at her reinterpretation of the tuxedo for Givenchy to know what to expect: sculptural silhouettes, metallic combinations, and meticulous attention to the waistline. With jackets twisted around themselves, the gray and black suits feature golden buttons on the back, while cigarette skirts fall straight down to the calves. The décolleté is accentuated by a sharp triangular cut plunging toward the abdomen—a detail that adds a bold touch to an otherwise conventional garment. While the first look nods to a certain “stylistic drama” filled with logos and sensuality reminiscent of Riccardo Tisci’s artistic direction for the brand, the rest of the pieces shift the focus back to Givenchy’s heritage. In the mini dresses, a layer of transparent mesh reveals the nipples, but the tulle skirts, neck bows, draping, and voluminous silk recall the softness of the American actress, Givenchy’s muse in Funny Face. Just as she did at McQueen, Burton’s color palette in this collection is very limited, except for the striking debut of a vibrant yellow—seen in an oversized tulle gown and a form-fitting knit mesh jumpsuit. The earrings are enormous gemstones framed by silver squares, reminiscent of vintage clip-on jewelry; the bags are geometric, sharp, black or white, and adorned with thin metal clasps. The ankle boots—black patent leather booties featuring the same print as the initial jumpsuit, Givenchy Paris 1952—serve as an amuse-bouche for the key items that the new creative director is set to launch on the market.    

The influence of Givenchy’s 1950s work is evident in the collection, despite the fact that McQueen’s artistic direction emerges powerfully as the real protagonist of the show. The embroidery—flowers and birds on a white background—offers a romantic nod to the early couture shows of the English designer, such as SS97’s Search for the Golden Fleece and SS98’s The Japanese Garden. It’s the only artistic inspiration Burton chooses to borrow from her mentor—she left behind the horns, wings, and Greek mythology-inspired masks, likely because they were widely criticized by the fashion press at the time. The coats, suits, dresses, and even the high-cut bodysuits nod to the sartorial refinement of both Hubert de Givenchy and McQueen, in a delightful clash between England and France. Burton infuses this collection with a good dose of humor—a side of the designer we hadn’t seen before—expressed through cascades of broken jewelry and gemstones, an abundance of powder compacts, and portable mirrors embellishing bodysuits and mini dresses. It’s as if a young teenager from the ‘50s had sneaked into her mother’s bedroom to play with her vanity station, only to end up in a beautiful mess. Amidst office suits and mesh bodysuits that make you want to go dancing with nothing but patent leather booties and a silver bracelet, finally, a bit of lightness. The show concluded with a magnificent standing ovation, leading us to believe that from here on, it will be smooth sailing for Sarah Burton, the new darling of French luxury.