The following review is written in the house style of G2, the supplementary lifestyle magazine

distributed within The Guardian. I have chosen this publication as the style and format is easily

accessible, casual in tone and always entertaining as well as informing.

Through the Looking Glass

Bermondsey village is the perfect location for an exhibition in which nothing ‘fits’. In 2007, ‘TimeOut

London’ dubbed the area as: “the funkiest newcomer of the cool streets: a model of inner-city

regeneration.” Once possessed by drug dealing and sordid prostitution, Bermondsey is now home to

elegant galleries, restaurants and boutiques attracting the likes of “trendy town models, getting their

material fix at Cockfighters.” (www.timeout.co.uk/london) The bold, Mexican-themed Fashion and

Textile Museum stands as a complete contrast to the Victorian-Esque Street, and any passing tourist

would be intrigued by the building, and if not, at least Teapod – the unique teashop and patisserie

that is rumoured around Bermondsey to inspire fashion bloggers and stylists alike. Ironic, that an

exhibition with such an emphasis on street style is itself surrounded by such sources of inspiration

for the industry. Although the museum cowers under the likes of the Victoria and Albert, the modest

yet thought-provoking ‘From Catwalk to Cover’ exhibition doesn’t fail to gain its place in the fashion

exhibition archive.

‘From Catwalk to Cover’, created by Kirstin Sinclair, takes the visitor on an educative journey through

the makings of a designer runway, followed by a look into what happens backstage before and after

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the ‘theatre production’. The exhibition also serves as a window into the making of a modern brand

(in this case Prada) and portrays this through a range of multimedia channels. The exhibition

primarily showcases photos from fashion photographer Kirstin Sinclair but also 100 works from

photographers Philip Meech, Chris Moore and Matthew Lever. These pieces introduce a theme to

the exhibition, which is positively thrust into the viewer’s hands upon entrance to the exhibition: a

photo gallery with lacked explanation. Although segregated into seven clear sections (the front row,

the editors, the catwalk, the buyers, backstage, street style and model style), the emphasis on

fashion photography leaves the exhibition somewhat un-balanced and lacking in variety. This is the

exhibition’s first setback.

The allure of the catwalk has been a changing phenomenon since the first public runway show in

New York City, 1943. This show, as a part of Eleanor Lambert’s ‘American Press Week’ aimed to

create a universal desire for the American designer. Therefore it’s somewhat ironic that in 2012,

many critics view the presence of an American celebrity at a European runway show as a great

honour. Sections of the exhibition feature celebrities such as Sarah Jessica Parker, Scarlett

Johansson, Samantha Cameron and Florence Welch. Although these women all specialise in different

areas, they all possess an influence within fashion, and provide a powerful image and addition to the

front row. The earliest runway and after-show allowed an opportunity for journalists, editors and

designers to rest and socialise in one place and celebrate their success. It also meant that designers

could invite some special ‘celebrity’ faces to market their brand. This coincidentally is the primary

goal of a contemporary runway show: attention. The celebrity obsession that revolves around a

runway show could be seen to detract from the purpose of showcasing beautiful garments and

artistic talent. Instead, the list of guest appearances and the ‘who wore what’ lures the whole

project into, dare we say it, a popularity contest. Of course, celebrities need paying; therefore it’s no

surprise that an average 20 minute Christian Dior runway show can cost up to £500,000 to produce.

Each bi-annual show engrosses eight long months of preparation, and up to a third of this time is

spent securing celebrity attendance. Not all designers embrace this culture, however. Designer,

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Nicole Farhi (whose work is projected throughout the exhibition) has called the act of paying for a

celebrity appearance “abominable.” She became the first industry insider to speak out, and said to

the Daily Mail: “It’s so unprofessional. I have never, and will never pay a celebrity. It’s stupid.” She is

joined by Burberry house, who proudly admit they will never pay celebrities for front row

appearances.

Walking around the exhibition, it’s easy for the brain to subconsciously distinguish six sections, the

first being the entrance corridor and photo collage. This section is vital in establishing an ambiance.

Upon passing the 10 framed

photographs filled with glossy

images of runway scenes from

Lanvin, Dior, McQueen and

Prada, my mind begins to fill

with butterflies – I ask myself

what magnificent and dramatic

things await me on the other side of the glass wall: adorned mannequins? Video interviews with

these designers? Unfortunately, I am not met with either of these visuals. Rather, a confusing array

of photographs derived from various aspects of a runway production. This is aided by the first

information plaque appropriately titled ‘Introduction’. Visually, this section is pleasing: minimalist

and elegant.

The second section however creates an all-together

different ambiance. Opening into a large open

space, the viewer’s eye level becomes confused

with an array of physical visual levels. I briefly pass

a series of 18 photographs of celebrities on the

front row (I have already made my opinion clear on

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this - do we really care?) and move swiftly over to a ‘minimalist clutter of spectacles’ as I hear one

journalist say. My eye-line flickers between eight hanging translucent canvases of backstage affairs,

runway and editorial photo-shoots; and a collection of runway images taken from Sinclair’s portfolio.

Both visuals are aesthetically pleasing, but lack a sense of context or explanation as to what they

contribute. I’m never presented with a plaque which explains the relevance of the canvases, nor why

Sinclair chose these particular images from the last 24 months. My confusion is heightened as I reach

the right-side wall and briefly study several images taken in the last 17 years. There is however a

small explanation on the culture of the catwalk, which helps the viewer to form their own

interpretations.

Passing the net curtains (which seem to have been mindlessly left there from some former

exhibition) the viewer is greeted with 10 mannequins (finally!) wearing designs from Westwood,

Paco Rabanne and Donna Karan. Although

beautiful, these outfits aren’t memorable –

they lack context and fail to represent a

significant movement in fashion. The

ambiance turns awkward, as I hear fellow

viewers voice their wishes for haute

couture gowns. Following the staircase are further photos of smiling celebrities and designers with

even bigger smiles. I feel hopeful as I mount the staircase, and approach the fourth section.

The marketing of a global brand has always

interested me, and the ‘Prada room’ serves as the

most informative and relevant aspect of the

exhibition. I begin to learn things, although the

exact purpose of this feature is left a mystery. I’m

greeted by several mannequins sporting beautiful

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cocktail dresses in lime green and duck egg blues; and accessories are displayed nicely in glass boxes,

illustrated further by images of advertorial shoots. This area is a true indulgence of the senses, but

the ambiance is spoiled by a lack of attention: screws are left exposed and my colleague trips over a

loose cable, inconveniently scuffing her new Marc Jacob sandals.

Thus we move swiftly to the final sections. This gallery focuses purely on the backstage hair and

make-up looks of recent shows. This proves a hit with the younger audience, who discuss how they

will adapt certain looks for their next night out.

Inspiring yes, but not necessarily feeding my hunger

for education. The 11 images, ranging from eyes at

Galliano and lips at Westwood to black eyes at

Viktor and Rolf and burlesque lips at Miu Miu, serve

as a colourful cascade of the weird and wonderful

world of disguise. I find it interesting to see a different angle of the catwalk culture that influences

such a large generation of today’s fashion followers.

A conclusion to the piece comes in the form of a brief look into street style as a means of fashion

communication: brief being the operative word. The ‘venture’ into street style consists of four

double sided framed images of models out and about during fashion week. Supported by a final

information plaque titled ‘Street Style’, this is an interesting angle for photographers and those

intrigued by models off the runway, but the area isn’t developed well enough to be seen as a

significant contribution to the exhibition. I found the most memorable aspect of the area to be the

utterly bizarre use of props. A video screen playing a reel of distorted film with no sound surrounded

by loose wires and exposed plugs that left me with a disappointment that sadly over-powered the

whole exhibition.

The transition between on-and-off the runway is clearly a big interest of Sinclair. Through her work,

the world of the backstage party is put to the forefront of fashion, and her contribution through her

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personal blog explores the daily lives of models. I particularly like her photographic portrayals of

influential models in which she silently encourages a healthy image of glowing, toned women that

haven’t succumbed to living as a size zero. The framed photos

show smiling, stylish models that show no bones, and no attempt

to return to the ‘heroin chic’ image of times passed. Although

Sinclair attempts to showcase the power of the blog, the lack of

knowledge via her own blog immediately stands as a setback to the

exhibition. Its elements like this that make the overall exhibition

lack a sense of context and relation to the curator and her work.

On a daily basis, Sinclair documents the most stylish and poignant

events in the fashion world, but these are missing from the exhibition. The museum website, series

of press releases and the flyer distributed whilst purchasing entry tickets portray the exhibition in

this stylish light, but the exhibition fails to exude this mystery, glamour and insight.

Emily Biggs