JACQUES FATH: A SPECIAL STORY
Fath: Fashion Design Shooting Star
Jacques Fath, my mother and me
Jacques Fath.. We met.
As I was freshly born (only a few months old), our conversation was, I assume, rather limited and we did not have the chance to deepen it later. On his side, he had the bad idea to die quite young (at 42), very much the Freddy Mercury way. Had he lived in the early 80s, he would probably have been caught in the deadly AIDS trap. Actually, he was supposed to be my godfather, but leukaemia got him before this could materialize.
Let’s start the story with the encyclopaedia part:
“..Jacques Fath was a French fashion designer who was considered one the three dominant influences on postwar Haute Couture (the others being Dior and Balmain).
A key figure in the revival of the Paris fashion industry after WWII, Jacques Fath created colourful and inventive designs catering to a young and sophisticated clientèle who identified with the vitality of his label.
While Fath’s design were right on the mark of the glamorous postwar look, it was his attitude toward business and his understanding of the power of publicity and marketing that helped to place this charismatic and flamboyant designer apart from his peers.
A self-taught designer who learned his craft from studying museum exhibitions and books about fashion, Fath hired a number of young designers as assistants.. including Hubert de Givenchy.. Guy Laroche.. Pierry Metthey..”
Ms Metthey turned out to be my mother.
On the left: Fath with his Fashion house employees – including my mother. She has pen-circled herself on the picture
Haunting Memories
The two photographs above are a double source of frustration.
The one on the left is typical Fath at work in his fashion house in Paris. Nothing special to report, except that it is a carefully composed picture that catches the eye and suggests a story, something which Fath was excelling at.
My problem concerns the model on the right of the photograph, with this awkward interrogation: is it my mother (she started her career with Fath first as a model and then became designer-stylist)?
Impossible to say. I could pretend that the picture isn’t sharp enough to tell and that all these models were looking a lot alike.
The harsh truth is that my mother has always been a stranger for me; especially during my early years, she was far more absorbed by her fashion work and life rather than by my largely outsourced education. Career wise, in this business, a young child was “..a liability more than an asset..” When you’re a kid, you don’t understand these things, but you feel them. A lot.
The second photograph is all too familiar because it’s probably the picture I saw most often in my early years.
In fact, that was the only photograph we had in our house (I can’t remember any of my father or of me, ever), which my mom had religiously put next to her dressing table.
And so, during all my coexistence with her, I had to live with this cherished image of a smiling, charming but defunct icon and her total infatuation with Fath’s memories, which were clearly the best part of her life.
The “Lavish Lifestyles”
Back to the encyclopaedia before I comment the photograph above:
“..An attractive and gregarious person, Fath recognised the importance of associating his label with fantasy and marketing images of a lavish lifestyle that his clients could share.
He was often photographed with his beautiful wife at evening events in Paris or basking in the sun on the Riviera. He drew large, sumptuous, theme costume parties at his château, inviting an international mix of socialites, actors, and fellow couturiers – which ensured maximum publicity in the press..”
In other words, Fath knew how to play the media and he would probably have been brilliant on Instagram!
The photographs above were published in France’s most popular magazine. They show Fath in the intimacy of his creation process, together with Ms Metthey, in the pictural environment of his “château”, where he organised some extraordinary costume balls.
It’s only when I saw this article, some years after my mother’s death, that I realised what her world was and why she loved it so much. This was an ideal universe where he was the Sun and she was revolving gracefully around this stellar presence, a universe where elegance was the ultimate thing to achieve.
All these shiny memories are now covered by dust. But I still remember my child’s curiosity seeing her drawing tons of fancy “croquis” (sketches) of dresses, gowns, tailleurs, hats and other accessories.
More often than not, I also remember her absence, due to the rush for fine-tuning the “collections” before the fashion shows or fixing subtle details of expensive dresses for wealthy “clientes”, the trips around the world (especially the USA) to promote brands (after Fath died, she continued working for other fashion houses).
From time to time, she would organise dinners at home with a few colleagues, usually very suave and witty males; these were evenings full of laughters and gossips. We even had the TV at home which came to film a collection. The whole house was filled with cables, lights and nervous models and I could only find refuge in the garden.
I also remember her cupboards filled with zillions of high heel shoes, fancy dresses, long gloves..
These days are gone, and that’s perfectly fine: fashion is an ephemeral thing, isn’t it..
The Style
To illustrate Fath’s style in all its glamour and elegance, I’ve picked the image on the right, created in September 1950. The model is Bettina Graziani, then top model of Fath’s fashion house.
Epilogue
The picture on the left is from Irving Penn, the famous American photographer (taken in New York, 26 March 1948).
One can have different readings of it, but it’s in any case a very “modern” picture, which reflects – besides Penn’s specific talent – how much Fath was innovative as well on the public image side.
Some will see the creative designer attempting to carve a new Universe or trying to escape his prison corner with his scissors; others may see him as surveying meticulously the finite limits of fashion.
For me, it’s before all an expression of elegance, thought-provocation, creativity, self-delusion tainted with a pinch of humor, meaning that even when you’re in a dark corner of your life with not much in your hands, you can still create something exquisite out of it.
That’s Fashion!
Post-Scriptum
Fath and my mother in the transatlantic boat, a few minutes before arriving in New York. Probably sometime in 1948.
