CHARIOTS OF FIRE
Both the historic textile house of Fortuny and later, Yves Saint Laurent, found inspiration in the chiton and the peplos commonly worn in Ancient Greece. The Spanish turned Venetian designer Mariano Fortuny created his celebrated Delphos gown with his wife and muse, Henriette Negrin, in 1907. The gown, much resembling an Ionic chiton, was fittingly named in honor of the Charioteer of Delphi, the Classical Greek statue dating to 470 B.C. Monsieur Saint Laurent undoubtedly shared a similar inspiration for his Spring 1971 Haute Couture collection. Though this collection, known as La Collection du Scandale, is remembered more for its modern world references than its nod to antiquity. Despite the varied responses to each of their homages to Ancient Greece, both Fortuny and Saint Laurent were able to uniquely capture the aesthetic beauty of this magnificent era in history. As Olivier Saillard so elegantly wrote, “Couturiers and designers have always mined the past for inspiration when creating their contemporary styles and collections. History demonstrates the impossibility of resisting this temptation ; everyone gives in to it on occasion. And such research often provides a deeper understanding…”
Also known as the Heniokhos, Greek for rein-holder, the Charioteer of Delphi is considered one of antiquity’s finest surviving bronze statues. Discovered by French excavators in 1896 during the Great Excavation of Delphi, at the Sanctuary of Apollo, the Charioteer was originally part of a larger group of statuary, including the chariot, at least four horses and possibly two grooms. Commissioned by Polyzalos, a tyrant of Gela, the Charioteer is depicted at the moment when he presents his chariot and horses to the spectators in recognition of his victory. He is cloaked in a traditional chiton or long unisex tunic which reaches down to his ankles and is held in place by a wide belt above the high waist. Two additional bands act as suspenders over the shoulders, under the arms and criss-cross at the back, which keeps the garment from billowing in the wind during a race. The defined vertical pleats in the lower part of the gown emphasize the Charioteer’s solid posture, intentionally resembling the fluting of an Ionic column, hence the term Ionic chiton.
A little over a decade after the discovery of the Severe style masterpiece, Mariano Fortuny, along with the equally talented Henriette Negrin, created the Delphos gown. Shortly after, the pair designed the Peplos gown, mirroring the Peplophoros, a traditional Greek garment that was pinned at the shoulders and belted at the waist, creating straight, heavy folds to the feet. Variations of the Peplos gown, quite similar to the Delphos gown, apart from the location and drape of its waistline, can be found depicted on unearthed Greco-Roman statues displayed in museums around the world. Often adorned with Murano glass beads in various hues of silk, these Fortuny gowns became a fashion sensation worldwide, and continue to be extremely collectible with both institutions and private collectors alike. Marcel Proust, a favorite of Saint Laurent, so accurately described the Fortuny gown as “faithfully antique but markedly original."
And yet again, this time nearly seventy years after the discovery of the Charioteer, long pleated gowns made waves at Yves Saint Laurent’s Spring 1971 Haute Couture presentation. “The show concluded with a group of evening dresses cut from printed fabric created by the Abraham house that reproduced motifs taken from Ancient Greek vases. For some, these designs of naked men were the ultimate insult,” wrote Suzy Menkes in her book CATWALK Yves Saint Laurent : The Complete Haute Couture Collections. Unfortunately, Saint Laurent’s renditions of the historic garment were not received with the same affection as Fortuny’s. The glamorization of the shamed war torn years in Paris referenced throughout his collection was apparently too close for comfort for the surviving generation of such a particularly dark era. “For evening wear, printed men in priapic poses encircle the dresses as they might a Greek vase. Presumably an evocation of Nazi virility?” wrote one reviewer quoted in Olivier Saillard’s book Yves Saint Laurent : The Scandal Collection, 1971. Saillard wisely continued “…that the inspiration of the past stimulates creativity, but it also creates dissonance in a discipline that is oriented toward the future.”
Despite the collection’s overwhelming review by the press and Haute Couture’s old guard as brazenly distasteful, the younger generation, most famously led, in part by Paloma Picasso, the noted muse for the collection, found it to be refreshingly au courant. As Paloma Picasso and the likes of designers such as Ossie Clark, had found inspiration in the flea markets of Portobello Road, so too had Monsieur Saint Laurent found inspiration in the styles of the past, drawing equally from the Ancient Greeks and the femme fatales of the 1940s. When asked the question in an interview by Claude Berthod in March of 1971, “Why did you decide to shock with the ‘retro’ look instead of something new?” Yves Saint Laurent replied : “What can we really call ‘new’ in fashion? Whether it’s a peplum or tights, it’s all been done a hundred times before…” And yet, while the styles may be ancient, the reinterpreted designs through the eyes of Mariano Fortuny, Henriette Negrin and Yves Saint Laurent, are nothing short of brilliantly modern.