Earlier this year, the debut of Sarah Burton at Givenchy was greeted with adulation and acclaim. Burton wasn’t just the rare female designer at the top of a fashion House, she was also a respected industry figure known for steering McQueen with grace after its founder’s death. Now, she has brought Givenchy firmly back into the centre of the fashion conversation while bringing back a kind of femininity that has been missing at the Maison for a while. Burton’s vision of femininity isn’t some kind of fantasy. The generous, structured silhouettes of her clothes suggest strength, but there is also a softness in the way they curve and flow around the body. Her tailoring is sharp, but not rigid; her dresses are sensual, rather than sexy. There are showstoppers for sure, but Burton also spent a lot of time perfecting wardrobe staples such as the trenchcoat, the white shirt, and the biker jacket.
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Founder Hubert de Givenchy was perhaps best known as the couturier behind many of Audrey Hepburn’s most iconic onscreen looks, and his offscreen creations often struck that same balance of classic femininity and modernity. Inspired by this, Burton turned those signature LBDs into airy, sculptural mini dresses that updated the Audrey Hepburn look for the micro-miniskirt generation. The House’s couture heritage has also given Burton a greater canvas with which to paint in her new role. Because of the very nature of their work—one-off pieces, constantly refined until perfected—haute couture ateliers are able to achieve levels of craft and precision often not possible in ready-to-wear. For her debut collection, Burton has taken full advantage of the techniques available to her in the Givenchy couture ateliers.
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Lace—a Hubert de Givenchy signature—is alternately given sharpness and structure, or made to pouf and billow as though supported on an invisible crinoline. Leathers are cut to fall in one fluid cascade, like silk. Giant clouds of tulle made up of dozens of metres of fabric move as though weightless. Opera coats sport intricate golden embroideries that nod to the founder’s fascination with the East. And then there is the one-off piece that is both a flex of the atelier’s abilities and Burton’s commentary on the rituals of beauty: A dress embroidered all over with antique makeup compacts and powder puffs. It sticks out from the rest of the rooted-in-reality clothes, but it shows that Burton is having the kind of fun a kid would in a candy store—or perhaps more fittingly, at their mother’s dressing table.
