Julie de Libran has carved out a unique niche in the Paris fashion landscape. In the window of her small boutique atelier on the Rue de Luynes is a lineup of polished, feminine attire that deftly walks the line between elevated ready-to-wear and demicouture. Projecting those clothes from idealized showcase to real-life salons, cocktails, and events takes no leap of imagination: These are chic, polished clothes for real women who want to be elegant without looking like they’re trying that hard. That’s why de Libran counts among her clientele some of the most glamorous creatures in Paris. On Wednesday morning, they turned out in force for this presentation in the living room and garden of the designer’s gorgeous home on the Left Bank.
And though she greeted guests wearing a crystal-trimmed linen ensemble embellished with sequins worked into flowers at the shoulder and a mesh panel on the skirt, the designer offered not even a shadow of a hint that she would also be appearing as part of the tableau (she wears look two).
“In a way, this collection is really about my childhood and growing up in France, then America, then Italy, then back in Paris,” the designer said before the show, which she designed to be “very friends and family,” starring many of the women—mothers, grandmothers, daughters, sisters, nieces, a couple sets of twins—who have been important to her throughout her life. “It’s about transmitting from one generation to the next,” she said. “It’s an exchange, a perpetual cycle, like passing a feminine torch.”
The designer added that living and working at the epicenter of haute couture inspired her to celebrate fashion’s artisans, from the embroiderer she has worked with for years to houses across Chanel’s 19M galaxy, such as Causse, Goossens, and Maison Michel for gloves, jewelry, and hats, respectively. Footwear came courtesy of Manolo Blahnik; eyewear was by Maison Bonnet.
As an indie, de Libran nailed Parisienne simplicity—the kind of done/undone glamour the whole world envies—straight out of the gate. Here, however, her clothes became much more elaborate and intricately worked. An early handful of dresses channeled a 1950s-era teatime silhouette. A red silk cape dress was trimmed with pink ostrich feathers; ditto a double-face cashmere suit that, minus the fringe effect, could easily be a closet staple. A white grain de poudre silk and satin tuxedo jacket whispered quintessentially Parisienne; a caramel double-face cashmere coat thrown over a red silk shirtdress would be right at home on the Left Bank. A brocade silk dress and coat with handmade sequin flowers, worn by a mother-daughter duo in looks 15 and 16, looked strong.
But some other looks, like a silk and lurex brocade T-dress or a pajama suit in the same material, appeared to have filtered notions of French chic through a more distant perspective, as if gazing toward Paris from a mansion in Palm Beach. Those numbers, and dresses like a tiered aqua gown, will no doubt help the designer attract a more international clientele eager for more high fashion options. What was missing was that ever elusive Parisian nonchalance she usually lands so well.
