Crédit photo Corentin Fohlen
From childhood until I was twenty-five I dreamed of becoming a dancer. As often happens, life decided otherwise. More than dance itself, I loved its universe which shared so many commonalitie with the world of fashion that I grew up in.
I admired the half-neglected, half-disciplined style of my classmates when I was studying at the Martha Graham School in New York. My style icons were Rudolf Nourreev, Mikail Baryshinikov, Marie-Agnes Gillot, Marie Claude Pietragalla. I loved them most not when they were onstage, dressed in their costumes, but rather when they were photographed behind the scenes or in rehearsal.
The style of the dancer at work consists of a mixture of shapeless coats, knitwear and form fitting leotards, often damaged and repaired with patches, but alive thanks to the body that inhabits them. The materials are always soft, light, easy to waltz in – enveloping like the petals of a flowerand to remove and to put back without thought.
Why should these effortless outfits be reserved for dancers and kept hidden away in classrooms? Why not put on a wrap to go to the office, or go out for an evening in a chic tracksuit and platform shoes?
Much like Marilyn Monroe in Le Milliardaire, when she sings “My Heart Belongs to Daddy” in an oversized sweater and black tights, the Pompom woman feels elegant and sensual in loose clothes. She loves mixing very close-fitting cuts with extra-large velvet, blurring the boundaries between the conventional feminine / masculine and trading in the banal tones of outfits once intended for the comfort of intimacy for an explosion of bold colors to wear in the street.