Floating into a gold gilded Baroque room in the Maison Baccarat came a stream of electrifying garments covered in shocking neon beads, brighter feathers and masses of sequins.
They were a far cry from the typically chic Paris Fashion Week shows, where more of the same tweeds, cashmeres and tulles were blasted out en masse over the last nine days.
But Kevin Germanier, the Swiss-born, Central Saint Martins-trained designer behind Germanier, does not want to fit in. He is on a mission to shake up French fashion from the inside – and this was his debut show.
“With Paris, I feel like I’m almost in Switzerland sometimes. They are so close minded. So constipated. There’s this little conservative nest about fashion, and this attention to detail,” he says. “But I’ve been raised by CSM, and if I learnt something there it is this: If you want to break the rules, go big. So if I want to break the rules, let’s do it in Paris.”
Germanier’s affair with the French capital began some years before, though. While studying, he won a Louis Vuitton-sponsored project and went out to collect his prize, an internship with the Maison. “Long story short they liked what I did, and when I was doing my final year collection, Louis Vuitton asked me if I wanted to have a job,” Germanier says.
He held off to finish his graduate collection, which he presented in the summer of 2017, and two days later packed his bags and got to work. “The dream was never to have my own brand, so I went and started at Vuitton.”
The eponymous label he runs today was not on the horizon, but a desire to make his own designs would not wear off. “Some people play video games, some are reading, others are going to the pub. I’m just making garments. That’s basically my hobby,” he says.
Louis Vuitton’s Head of Sustainability, Alexandre Capelli, had kept an eye on him since his Central Saint Martins project, though, and saw a wasted opportunity. “He said, it’s such a shame you’re making all of those garments after work and nobody can see them, we will sponsor you an exhibition,” says Germanier.
“It was super tiny, in 2018, and the first person who came was Natalie Kingham,” he says, of the then Global Fashion Director of MatchesFashion. “Next my PR is calling me at lunchtime telling me it’s time to produce. Matches have just bought everything!”
It is a well-trod story when it comes to the greats. Joan Burstein, co-founder of retailer Browns, swept up John Galliano’s graduate collection the day it was shown in 1984, while fashion editor Isabella Blow bought the entirety of Alexander McQueen’s 1992 student collection for £5000.
“My initial reaction was f**k,” says Germanier. “Now I have a job, I’ve signed a contract with LVMH, and I have to produce. But I knew this kind of opportunity only comes once.”
One year out of university and he had already settled on an original signature: Uber camp, sherbet shade glass beads covering everything from gowns to micro minis and catsuits. He stumbled across them in Hong Kong, having won the Redress Design Award and travelling out for another internship with the luxury house Shanghai Tang.
“I saw this guy literally digging holes and throwing away glass beads,” Germanier says. “Bearing in mind that I grew up in the John Galliano for Dior, Riccardo Tisci for Givenchy era, for me the glass beads are something so precious, so luxurious. For this guy it was trash.”
He struck up a deal to buy them, developed his own silicon technique to attach them to fabrics fast, and was away. “I’m still working with the same woman and man who gave me my beads when I was a student,” he says.
The evolution to high-octane drama with a steadfast sustainable mindset (“Why does sustainability have to be so boring?” he quips) saw him quickly recruit Björk, Lady Gaga, Taylor Swift and South Korean singer Sunmi as fans.
His upcycled beading came out in full force for the debut, too. They were dressed down on t-shirts and embellished jeans, and up for soirées as thigh high, hugging bead boots, clashing pink, gold, white and blue miniskirts and off-shoulder knit tops worn with a matching, bold beaded balaclava.
They came on bulbous chain bags and warped masks that covered faces; on sleek black tailoring for the boys and even covered Ugg boots, with whom he collaborated this season. “I was so, so excited to work with Ugg,” he says. “They told me to go crazy – I went actually crazy.”
“The new collection is show time! I had to keep in mind, for some people it will be their first introduction to my world. So I would say for this season I have pushed myself to do the best of what I’ve done in the past,” he says. Elsewhere came his popular, party-girl feather trimmed sequin dresses, geometric, pink sheer tops with Swarovski crystals and heavy duty jewellery. “It’s pushing all the technique and innovation while keeping my DNA.”
And while the show set-up in itself was by the book, there are a couple of Paris Fashion Week clichés Germanier thinks are well past their sell by date. “I only want a first row. This culture of, oh my god she’s not famous, she’s on the third row, I really don’t care about,” he says. “And if you’re an influencer literally asking me to buy your hair and makeup for you to come to my show, I’d rather just pay my team, honestly. You’ve missed the point.”
“The music as well, I don’t want these stupid fashion beats. It’s always the same, like you’re in rave. No, a fashion show is a celebration of craftsmanship, of all the people that are working on it,” he says. “To me it’s like showing it to your friends.”
Now that the debut box is ticked, what is next for Paris’ new enfant terrible? “Urrrm.” He pauses. Then, without missing a beat: “Creative Director of Christian Dior.”
He stops again, for a moment, considering whether to laugh that off as a joke. “No – actually. That’s my goal, I’m not ashamed anymore, I’m ambitious,” Germanier says. “If it’s not Christian Dior I’m not going to be mad,” he continues, with a giggle. “But I want to change this from within.”
