Following on from his
2014 documentary, Dior and I, Frédéric Tcheng continues to delve
into the world of fashion with his latest film, Halston, which
opened in New York City this week. It’s a shimmery but cautionary tale of
beautiful women, ruthless villains, and an all-American hero from the
cornfields of Iowa who makes it to the big city and becomes fashion’s
superstar.
Early in his career Halston invited his idol and couturier friend,
Charles James, to design a range with him. It did not go well. While
Halston greatly admired James’s engineering, he realized that modern
glamour should be less fussy, with less scaffolding, allowing fabric to
flow with the body’s movements. James meanwhile went to the press to accuse
his former friend of plagiarism. From that moment Halston worked alone.
Halston’s singular vision
When he wasn’t a solitary emperor sketching at his red lacquer desk in
his mirror-walled office high up in the clouds of midtown Manhattan, he was
partying surrounded by an adoring Hollywood elite and his Halstonettes, a
hive of models wearing his creations that traveled everywhere with him. A
cross between Oscar Wilde and James Stewart, speaking with clipped hauteur,
his face hidden behind a cloud of smoke rising from his cigarette holder,
Halston emanated 70s elegance, while his matt jersey halters, ultra suede
shirt dresses, teeny hotpants, bias cut gowns and caftans offered that
elegance to others.
The documentary which weaves intimate interviews with rare archival
footage covers his 1961 big break when he put Jackie Kennedy in a pillbox
hat for her husband’s inauguration to his late-60s move from millinery into
womenswear, through to his 70s skyrocket when he expanded into perfume,
homeware, and outfitted airlines, Girl Scouts, and even the 1976 U.S.
Olympics team. Halston was ubiquitous, the physical embodiment of his
laser-focused aesthetic. There he was at Studio 54, there he was on TV with
Phil Donahue, there he was in China with his extensive entourage followed
by a photographer from Womenswear Daily.
Rise and demise of Halston
In an interview, the designer is asked “Is success fun?,” to which he
replies, “Oh sure, it’s fun, and it’s not fun, and as my mother says, it’s
the price you have to pay.” Having sold his company to Esmark, motivated by
a desire to dress all Americans, in a controversial move the designer then
agreed to a 1 billion dollar deal with JC Penney which prompted the evening
news to announce, “Halston moves from class to mass!” and Bergdorf Goodman
to promptly drop him. Luxury designers partnering with department stores
would become common towards the century’s close but in the early 80s it was
a risky move, and a bookend to the last time Halston attempted to
collaborate, the Charles James debacle. So begins the “not fun” period;
here is the price he has to pay. Feeling control slipping from his grasp,
the micromanaged micromanager resorts to arriving in the office at four in
the afternoon in order to avoid executives who dared demand of him to trim
the flower budget for his office.
Spiraling cocaine use and a HIV diagnosis provide the epilogue of this
story but it is the third act that resonates so tragically. A fumbled
attempt to buy back control elicited the ruthless corporate rebuttal, “You
don’t own your name, pal, we do.”
To some, the luxury fashion sector and mass market retail might seem
neighborly but they often do not even speak the same language. They might
make friendly noises across lawyers’ desks during a heady contract-signing
rush but completely misunderstand each other immediately thereafter.
“Volume!” cries one exec remembering that the focus of the JC Penney deal
was to shift immense quantities of product. But if it was the volume of a
batwing sleeved chiffon gown cut from one single length of fabric that put
Halston at the top, this new volume would bring him to the bottom.
Namesakes losing their name
Esmark’s efforts to isolate Halston, granting lowly staff members
authority to circumvent the designer for decision-making, are familiar and
ongoing practices in high stakes fashion takeovers–or takebacks. Lurid
headlines of behind-the-scenes power moves in the recent PVH/ Raf Simons
divorce were all over fashion news at the beginning of this year.
To another question posed in the documentary––Is it tougher to get on
top or stay on top?––Halston did not have a ready response. Perhaps the
better question might be: how do designers avoid flying too close to the
sun when corporate greed necessitates the scaling of ever new heights?
Since Halston, Thierry Mugler, Jil Sander, John Galliano, Roland Mouret
are among the designers who have been shown the door after seeing their
names wiped from the mastheads of their own companies, but the fashion
industry isn’t the better for it. Currently at Montreal Museum of Fine
Arts, the “Thierry Mugler Couturissime” exhibit, the first such show
dedicated to the designer, is captivating a new generation of fans who
wonder why isn’t fashion this exciting anymore?
But perhaps the most confounding irony in Halston’s story is that
although the brand has changed ownership a further half dozen times in the
years since, and has seen a revolving door of creative directors (the most
famous being Sarah Jessica Parker) all of whom have failed to ignite
anything close to the excitement its namesake founder created with the mere
snap of a bolt of lamé cloth, it has been rebranded as Halston Heritage.
Fashion editor Jackie Mallon is also an educator and author of Silk for
the Feed Dogs, a novel set in the international fashion industry.
Photos: Movie poster, Halston.film; Sequined Halston evening dress,
1974, USA Gift of Celanese, 80.128.12 from YSL + Halston: Fashioning the
70s Photograph by Eileen Costa © The Museum at FIT, WikimediaCommons
