« Quand j’étais encore adolescent »

The young teenage Nicolas opens the door of the kitchen where his mom and dad are having dinner. He cheerfully exclaims,
“HELLO”
His mom smiles. His dad is grouchy.

Nicolas grabs the shoulders of a sleeveless grey top his mom is wearing. He bunches it up into a billowy form that contrasts with his mom’s long lanky figure. The arrival of Nicolas’s sister, wearing tights that are some kind of cross between an oriental sarouel and fur stretch pants, upsets the dad who wonders how he managed to bring two coat hangers into the world.

Then Nicolas watches a short film by Luc Moulet on tv. he loves sci-fi flicks with mercury streaming, girls screaming like hens, boys getting strangled like pups and monsters baring huge sharp white teeth…Then he goes to his room to let his imagination run wild as he studies the flowers printed on his double curtains. the next morning he opens them and spies out the window in the morning mist, leaping to avoid the garden flowers, his gym teacher’s wife dressed in aqua green, her limbs sheathed in a blend of limp jersey and cotton rib.

This romantic and pure vision causes Nicolas’s imagination to swell, and the woman suddenly looks like a rodeo-gal playing the jew’s-harp. Her appearance changes like Cinderella and now she’s wearing a synthetic ensemble of black jeans, high-heeled boots and a transparent black top with an opaque white stripe. The high-school Nicolas wants to marry her. He imagines his wedding clothes to be a robot shirt and fancy breeches – he’s crazy about the singer of Adam and the Ants like all his friends – feathers in his hair, painted like a Sioux chief and decked out like a pirate…

Nicolas Ghesquière has transposed his dream into the poshest neighborhood of Paris with his style advisor, an artistic assistant, a commercial director and a season-assistant. He asks himself questions like, “To best flatter this figure, do I need a big or a small…model?” The outfit in question consists of jodhopurs and a little fleece-lined print top. The choice of trousers harks back to when the young Nicolas was desperately seeking to find himself. The print- the same as his bedroom curtains – is now quilted. The whole crew calls it a pot holder, definitively situating the collection at the moment when childhood ends, when the teen – after making love in an elevator- goes back home and takes his seat at the table.

At first he slipped into the skin of a Fashion Playmobile which he wore like armor to penetrate the world of adults, but this year Nicolas has shed his shell like the Mutant. For summer ’99, he did what every teen dreams of experiencing: transcend a stale daily life for a world that’s pure, straightforward and distinguished. The young man, rooted perhaps in the nostalgia of 18th century romantic painters, the inspiration behind Balenciaga, did not take the easy way out. Today he’s a stylist in a large styling house. With self-assurance, courage and sincerity, Nicolas Ghesquière dishes up his childhood for the delight of his contemporaries.

©"Portrait-en-mots" Stéphanie Cohen Chaptal