On Wednesday, birds of a feather gathered inside the cavernous Salle Wagram, a landmark 19th century auditorium just a stone’s throw from the Arc de Triomphe. They weren’t just in the front row, either, although Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoeren tend to command a certain kind of cultish, theatrical following. Backstage before the show, amid these puffed-up silhouettes, Horsting volunteered that “[Feathers] came to mind but we don’t really know why. It’s a couture element, but spiritually it is a symbol of freedom, and we liked that idea, too.”
Astonishingly, feathers are one of the very few couture tropes that, in all these years, they said they had never tackled before. Consider that rectified: all in, there were 1,150 plumes here, all faux and made by hand in the studio using colorful organza and other materials. The theme also opened a new door, of sorts, noted Snoeren, wearing a feather print tie for the occasion: for the first time, milliner Stephen Jones joined the fun with vibrant, often towering custom hats and headpieces.
On the runway, this collection of 30 looks comprised just 15 identical garments, presented in pairs: one puffed up with all manner of feathers, the other deflated and unadorned, both accessorized—per usual—with satin stilettos by Christian Louboutin. The looks were by turns playful—a long dress in dotted Swiss transformed into something vaguely sci-fi with neon green feathers; another was pillowed up with layers of purple plumes, and a coat was inflated with painterly yellow and burgundy feathers until shoulders hiked up above the head—and, for their counterparts, perfectly wearable.
Those present today who witnessed the designers’ couture debut—for fall 1998–likely recall that outing’s twin looks and bombastic volumes. Now, as then, one version seemed to be destined for fashion exhibitions and sky’s-the-limit extravaganzas; the other the stuff of real-life dressing. Something for everyone, in short, sprinkled with humor—that fluffy pink boule skirt comes to mind—and seasoned with an air of Victorian nostalgia in layer upon layer of black ruffles.
Asked why they chose to name the collection after a highly addictive game many parents love to hate, the designers replied that “Angry Birds” was actually about putting unlikely words together, in the vein of their perennial bestseller FlowerBomb—now 21 and still going strong. When that fragrance came out, some considered the name subversive and others scandalous; now it’s a classic. The same could be said of the couture, whose collectors appeared to be out in force.