FASHION
Pieced in PlasticThe effect was breathtaking. Out strode the
model, clothed in nothing but wafer-thin plastic disks, each glinting
with dazzling sun colors and hung together with fine
wires. Next came a coat of mail in glistening silver that let a generous amount
of skin go unprotected. Then came sun visors shaped like welders'
helmets and oversized plastic earrings that dangled weightlessly at
shoulder level. It was the U.S. debut at Manhattan's Lord & Taylor of Jewelry
Designer Paco Rabanne, at 32 the hit of Paris and overnight a whole
industry in himself. Only last February, Paco presented a small
experimental collection of disk dresses in his fifth-floor, walk-up
Paris studio, and suddenly the rush was on. Britain's Queen plunged with 14 pages, Harper's Bazaar put his work on
last month's cover, and Vogue's current issue leads off with Top Model
Donyale Luna in one of Paco's shifts, which amply
displays her body . Sexy Mermaids. Bound to be seen everywhere this summer, if Paco's
hand-crafters can keep up with demand and charge accounts can take the
gaff , Rabanne's disks were
an instant hit with the models. “It makes such a nice clatter when you
move,” said one. “I feel like a sexy mermaid.” What happens if you sit
down? “You shouldn't; they're for dancing,” was Paco's prompt retort.
One model tried anyway, reported: “Not bad. It sort of slips away.” Paco himself sort of slipped into haute couture. As the son of
Balenciaga's premiere in San Sebastin, Spain, he
grew up in the world of fashion. He set out to be an architect, studied
at the Atelier Perret, then drifted into fashion design. “Fashion is
the same process as architecture,” he explains. “Both are concerned
with very precise limits—in fashion, those of a woman's body.” One
reminder of his former studies is his white-pailletted hat, “directly
inspired by Bucky Fuller's geodesic dome.” Clean-Cut & Brilliant. He began hitting his stride with plastic
accessories. Then from sun goggles and huge choker necklaces the
jewelry grew into whole dresses, until currently he buys 30,000
meter-square sheets of Rhodoid plastic a month. But production is still
painstakingly slow: ten days for a short shift, 15 days for a long
dress. Paco is pleased but not surprised by his sudden success: “There was a
need for a new concept of feminity,” he explains. “Feathers and boas
have no meaning for today's woman. She needs something clean-cut and
brilliant.” The ideal? “A shining rubber paint that would dry into a
second skin.”
