Contradictions are inherent of human existence. The many paradoxes that contribute to the complexity of life are difficult for most of us to explain. Yet we still tend to be attracted by antinomy, just as a thousand-euro jumper with holes and stains can become the most desirable and prestigious piece in our wardrobe.

I was curious as to why artists from established luxury brands would be offering deliberately destroyed garments for a hefty five-figure price tag on a thin paper label. I was given a quick, and in a way disappointing, hold-all answer: “It’s art”. I am not going to go into the tiresome question of what we can and cannot consider art. But why? What is the creative intention behind these luxurious pieces of junk?

I found many explanations for the metaphor of creating a luxurious garment that is deliberately distressed, disassembled, dirty, dingy, or anything else that gives the illusion of long and passionate use. 

Ripped T-shirts, faded jeans and sneakers that looked as if they had been rubbed in the dust before taking the stage, have been trodden on the catwalks of luxury fashion more than once. After proving themselves on music scenes – the Sex Pistols were one of them – the broken and brutal aesthetics of rebellious punk were plucked from the streets and put on the stage. Luxury houses associated with elitism and glittering luxury adopted the codes of the rebellious counterculture. The safety pins that once held a torn sleeve to the rest of the body of an old, second-hand jacket became the golden connections between the two parts of a tightly fitting, black, very expensive Versace dress. These small metal tools, used to hang clothes for those without the means or sewing skills, were then used to hold some of the most expensive garments known to exist. Lagerfeld designed a meticulously perforated Chanel punk blazer. How antinomic is that?

The 90s had barely begun when Cobain’s dusty trainers and vintage knitwear walked down Marc Jacobs’ catwalk, introducing the grunge aesthetic to the fashion world. It was an outrage at first, as none of these wealthy clients would be willing to “pay a fortune to dress like marginals”¹. And then everyone loved it. To the point that the brand revisited its Grunge collection in 2018 – a way of claiming that the codes that were once described as ugly and scandalous are now fully accepted, and considered desirable, by the ‘fashion mainstream’.

It remains a little unclear why fashion labels associated with very elitist and noble luxury decided to associate themselves with the codes of grunge and punk countercultures, which carry images of rebellious, anti-bourgeois, marginalised groups. While elegance and simplicity would describe Chanel’s concept, punk is about ” violently asserting their general indifference “², as Richard Hell would say³. Another question is whether the initial message of such fashions will be preserved if adopted by high luxury brands, which have been the subject of criticism in the first place. Does the message lose credibility?

Still in the 90s, newcomers brought fresh visions of fashion, clothing, and beauty to the industry, using deliberately destroyed garments. Martin Margiela – like some of his Belgian colleagues – introduced conceptual fashion, including deconstruction, ‘aged’ looks and unfinished seams. The designer proposed a different definition of luxury, based not on the value of the materials used, but on the time spent on the creation. And broken plates were turned into necklaces. The Belgian designer’s Artisanal collection “preserves visible reminders of what the system declares to be out of fashion”⁴. Yamamoto and Kawakubo’s presented the Japanese concepts wabi “without decoration or visible luxury” and sabi “old and atmospheric”⁵ to the European fashion scene. Celebrating the notion of time passing and questioning novelty and beauty, their asymmetrical and deconstructed designs come in a variety of black hues. “I maintain that seeing experimental clothes is a kind of mental release for everyone. It opens the mind”⁶, Kawakubo says. As Westwood designs, Kawakubo clothes “force you to think”⁷. Rick Owens was, and still is, on a quest for the odd, “celebrating the freaks”⁸ with his “glunge” (from glamour and grunge)⁹ designs to escape “narrow aesthetic conventions”. “No one is obliged to conform to anyone else’s standards”, he says. 

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‘Distressed aesthetics’ is part of the creative vision of these designers. In the most extreme sense of the word, they want to prove that beauty is subjective. With breaks, bobbles, and blemishes, they break the prevailing rules of luxury – pretty, pristine, and pearlescent. 

In his latest couture collection for Balenciaga, the Da Vinci of satirical fashion, Demna, paid tribute to ” subculture dress codes”¹⁰ (which, it’s a little unclear) with a hand-beaded and deliberately distressed dress. Fashion audiences were no strangers to his distressed high-end fashion. The ‘Destroy Paris Sneakers’ not only look as if they’ve been rubbed by dust, but also chewed by a dog after being run over by a lorry. Curt himself would probably question whether he should wear them. “It’s just a dirty shoe”, says Demna, adding “I don’t like that luxury is always intended to communicate that you’re rich […] I’d rather wear a bag that doesn’t make me look like the rare bourgeois bitch who can afford it”¹¹. The use of the distressed aesthetic is therefore a way for the designer to distance themself from the stereotype of the rich fashion client, while remaining within the luxury strata. 

Is the distressed aesthetic used by some creatives as an extreme version of quiet luxury? How can it be quiet to wear such strong design? Unlike quiet luxury, where the price is hidden in simple design and quality materials, the full denim look, which appears to have been attacked by an army of kitchen knives, is a statement of price. It needs its very heavy price tag to justify its desirability. Because what would be the point of wearing an old and stained t-shirt bought on a shabby souvenir shop for $9.99, if it is not backed up by a “Balenciaga” label? Maybe it’s an extreme new kind of luxury, where you don’t even care about paying a month’s rent for a deliberately aged and dirty garment whose physical characteristics might be altered? (We all have a pair of jeans that are too long to wear in the heat or too holey to wear in the cold). 

Understandably, the presentation of a creation that appears to have been worn, damaged by time, deliberately deconstructed or not yet fully constructed, leans towards the artistic aspect of fashion over its highly functional side. But when it comes to dressing with these tangible antitheses of luxury degradation, what purpose does the wearer have in purchasing a deliberately destroyed luxury garment? 

Sources

1. Tout sur la mode. (2022). Flammarion ↩︎
2. Gleyse, N., & Léger, M. (2024, 6 juin). L’histoire de Chanel : tout savoir sur cette maison mythique, de sa création à aujourd’hui. Vogue France. ↩︎
3. Bolton, A., Hell, R., Savage, J., & Lydon, J. (2012). Punk : Chaos to Couture. Metropolitan Museum of Art. ↩︎
4. Verhelst, B., Margiela, M., & Debo, K. (2008). Maison Martin Margiela 20 : The exhibition. MoMu. ↩︎
5. De Perthuis, K. (2020). Breaking the Idea of Clothes: Rei Kawakubo’s Fashion Manifesto. Fashion Theory, 24(5), 659-677 ↩︎
6. Samson, A., Arzalluz, M., Delpal, F., Hill, C., Lambron, M., & Lécallier, S. (2022). 1997 : Fashion Big Bang. Palais Galliera Paris Musées ↩︎
7. Fury, A. (2021). Vivienne Westwood Catwalk : The Complete Collections. Thames & Hudson Ltd ↩︎
8. Davidson, E. E. (2024, 5 février). Rick Owens talks weird trips, techno & ; 2024 ins-and-outs with Sissy Misfit. Dazed. ↩︎
9. Larvin (2019, 14 juin). The transgressive beauty of Rick Owens. Vogue France. ↩︎
10. Discover 53RD COLLECTION Couture Collection. (s. d.). Balenciaga EN. Seen on July 16, 2024. ↩︎
11. Benglis, L., Paak, A., & Williams, M. (2022, 16 octobre). The Greats Demna. T Magazine, 82 ; 88 ; 94 ↩︎