Only one Lebanese fashion designer has ever risen to the ranks of haute couture ­ official haute couture, that is, as sanctioned by the Chambre Syndicale in Paris. Granted, Elie Saab became a household name more for dressing Halle Berry at the Oscars than anything else. But still, his standing in that upper echelon of high fashion is, in real terms, the more major accomplishment, and one that holds significant (and intriguing) implications for Lebanese fashion at large.
The Chambre Syndicale is the governing body of fashion in France. It lays down the rules and sets the fashion calendar for the year. The twice-yearly runway shows that take over Milan, New York, London, and lately Los Angeles, must work around the dates set by Paris. The Chambre Syndicale also determines who may and may not be considered a proper haute couture house. To qualify, a designer must employ at least 20 people in his or her atelier, must produce at least 50 original designs each year, and must present two annual shows, one for spring (in January) and one for fall (in July).
The number of designers who make the haute couture cut has been dropping dramatically over the years. In 1946, there were 106. In 1997, there were 18. When Yves Saint Laurent announced his retirement, that number dipped down to 12. At the spring shows in Paris this past January, only eight designers were chosen to present their collections. Saab was one of them.
Saab opened his first atelier in Beirut at the age of 18. He now sells his clothes throughout Europe (in France, Italy, Greece, Spain, Monaco, and the UK) and the Middle East (Kuwait, Dubai, Saudi Arabia, and of course Lebanon). Neiman Marcus carries his designs in nine cities throughout the US, three in the state of Texas alone. According to reports in the press, Saab is contemplating opening a signature boutique in New York, and his new headquarters in Downtown Beirut are well under way.
According to a recent survey in The Economist, the global luxury goods market was worth a stunning $170 billion in 2000. That figure dropped down to $157 billion in 2003. But it is projected to rise again, up to about $161 billion, in 2004.
High-end designers tend to make the most cash off diffusion brands (lower-end versions of their signature lines) and licensing agreements for such oft-purchased products as perfumes, scarves, handbags, and shoes (a woman is more likely to replenish her supply of these items seasonally than, say, her cache of evening gowns or wedding dresses). But still, brands are created at the haute couture level, where vision is everything and practicality little more than an afterthought.
The number of haute couture designers may be dwindling but the number of haute couture customers is fairly set at a steady group of 2,000 very rich women worldwide. And this is a niche worth developing for Lebanese fashion designers following in Saab’s footsteps. Among the eight designers who showed in Paris this winter were Saab and also Ji Haye, a Korean designer who is very much a newcomer. Clearly, the field is open to new players.
Haute couture is very much about fantasy and what binds this realm of fashion together is a reliance on embroidery, beading, and embellishment. As such, haute couture is a natural fit for Lebanese fashion, which, to generalize crudely, tends to be a tad ostentatious. Lebanon may be one of the few places left on the planet where street level fashion ­ what your average woman is wearing on a day-to-day basis ­ trickles down fast from high fashion, rather than rising from the anti-fashion tendencies that populate the street scene in, say, London or New York, where punk and hip-hop trends still rule the day.
Of course, haute couture is an expensive venture. As The Economist points out, a haute couture gown may involve 700 hours of labor. And a 20-minute runway show can cost upwards of $500,000 to produce. But the price tag on a single gown can reach $100,000. As CNN reporter Lara Magzan notes, Elie Saab has clients among royals, princesses, and “an elusive bride” who once paid $2 million for a wedding gown of emeralds and diamonds.
In addition to Saab, at least six other Lebanese designers presented collections in Paris this year, in the ready-to-wear categories or off the official schedule. In New York this year, Reem Acra, a Lebanese designer who has made a name for herself doing wedding gowns and through her use of beading and embroidery, also made a splash in an otherwise dull season.
Regionally, other Middle East designers that have risen to international stature include such talents as Hussein Chalayan (from Northern Cyprus), one of the most inventive and intelligent figures working in fashion today. But he is resolutely avant-garde, as is As Four, the hipper-than-thou label based in New York that consists of first-name only designers Adi, Ange, Kai, and Gabi, who are Israeli, Tajikistani, German, and Lebanese, respectively.
High-end fashion may be one of the few cultural pockets where Lebanon’s aesthetic tradition comprises a wholesale export. And despite the rarified atmosphere of the haute couture, the market may be small but it’s lucrative nonetheless. As The Economist concludes, “As long as human beings appreciate art, and as long as there are enough rich people to pay for it, the world of luxury and high fashion will prosper.”