The decadent opulence of Glenn Martens' Maison Margiela. A true tour-de-force, which catapulted the Belgian designer into the myth of the brand

The stakes were high, extremely high. After John Galliano’s decade at Margiela, which concluded with one of the Artisanal shows already entered into history, not only was Glenn Martens' debut as creative director of the brand supposed to take place with an Artisanal collection, that is, Haute Couture, but the show was set in the exact same location, Le Centquatre, with the same setup as the last Artisanal show by founder Martin Margiela in March 2009. But last night, Martens proved himself to be one of the great masters of the new generation of designers: his debut for Maison Margiela may have been divisive (online, those who loved it slightly outnumbered those who were disappointed), but it is absolutely undeniable that it centered on a collection fully aligned with the founder’s original spirit and with Martens’ own chaotic and deconstructivist aesthetic. The collection shown yesterday reminded everyone of something different: many social media users with more mainstream tastes referenced the costumes of Dune; others saw veiled figures like those found in the statuary of the palaces of Bruges and in the Pére-Lachaise cemetery, the plaster ghosts of the Castle of Vezio, the paintings of Memling and Van Eyck, and even certain scenes from On the Silver Globe by Andrzej Żuławski. The truth is that the inspirations, especially those based on the art of Bruges, were certainly present, but the complexity of the final result cannot be broken down into the simple sum of its parts.

It would indeed be wrong to flatten Martens’ work into a single inspiration, a specific trend, or a word like “gothic” or “dystopian” to make it more digestible. While remaining deeply himself, with his usual energy, Martens dove headfirst into the stylistic codes and tailoring approaches that define Maison Margiela. The taste for deconstruction, inversion, and the surreal bricolage aesthetic were all present, with that incredibly difficult mix of cleverness and naïveté so typical of a brand whose precise style is actually elusive—more of a philosophy than a silhouette—recognizable only when seen. There were several references to Flemish art, for example, with oil paintings decorating jeans, leather jackets covered in faded upholstery that looked as though they came from a noble palace two centuries ago, and feather-covered looks that seemed to emerge from crumpled versions of Adriaen van Utrecht’s still lifes.  The collection was seemingly structured as a kind of progression: it began with transparent plastic garments—perhaps the least convincing of the collection—and gradually the fabrics took over, moving from decorated pieces to pure textiles, spectacularly wrapped and draped over models whose faces were strictly covered. This was also the show that saw the return of the iconic masks on the runway: the jewel-like masks reminiscent of Blazy’s were stunning, but even more beautiful and experimental were the ones made of twisted and hammered metal, papier-mâché masks where you could glimpse old repurposed posters, and those that turned into explosions of organza, echoing the floral theme of certain garments.

Initially somber, the show gradually broadened its scope as the looks progressed—a shift underscored by the music, which moved from a trembling opening guitar to an electric guitar solo, eventually concluding in a more theatrical rock ballad, whose harshness effectively conveyed the kind of eroded and raw style Martens is bringing to the brand. And while several of the looks echoed silhouettes already typical of the designer—especially the garments made of iridescent, crinkled fabrics that appeared like liquid metal—the evident love for painted and decorated denim, for iridescent and illusory textures, and for defining the models’ anatomy, though always in a Margiela-esque key, clearly showed Martens’ hand behind the collection. Surely, as noted in reports by those who were able to closely examine the individual looks, with fabrics made from gold thread salvaged from computers, draping encased in reflective plastic, garments painted and covered in paper as if they were walls, and absolutely labyrinthine constructions, Martens reminded us of fashion’s desperate need for conceptualism and cerebral depth.