What it was like to sit in the front row as a normal person during Paris Fashion Week

Paris is the city of love. And fashion. Especially now, because it’s Fashion Week. Renowned designers will present their collections for the coming spring and summer between September 25 and October 3. Watson was invited to attend the show of Swiss designer Kévin Germanier. Suffice it to say: there was no trace of champagne or canapes. Instead, insights into a dystopian parallel world.

When we arrive at the empty Renault garage, which has been converted into a showcase establishment, the music is already echoing towards us. Dark, booming bass, especially in combination with the choice of location, is reminiscent of a visit to the Berlin scene club Berghain. We are led through the spiral exit to the great hall. A number of busy Germanier bees (as the designer himself calls them) are already working there, which is impossible for the author to estimate.

There is also a dress rehearsal in the fashion industry: the models march across the catwalk with brisk steps. Only a few of them already wear the expensive designer pieces; most are still dressed casually in jeans and shirts. This confused some early guests, who judged the outfits as “super street friendly.”

One floor higher, rows of mannequins sit in front of the mirrors and patiently have their eyes and lips made up and their hair done. Where two hands are not enough, another pair comes to the rescue.

And the latest changes are also being made to the catwalk outfits: a model in a sweatshirt and an oversized skirt with ruffles is surrounded by three “bees”. They sew additional pieces of fabric to the bottom of the skirt to complete the look. It then looked like this:

There is an iron a few meters away. Not for practical, clothing-related reasons, but for advertising purposes. The collection that Valais Kévin Germanier presents here was created in collaboration with the Swiss steam iron manufacturer Laurastar. That’s why we now get to see the new ironing station, whose cover has the same print as one of the dresses shown today.

As befits France, the author was told, the fashion show starts half an hour late. We can have a front row seat to this. The other guests are also placed on the rows of chairs: journalists, influencers, fashionistas. They all accepted Germanier’s invitation to be the very first to see the fashion designer’s latest creation.

But a large number of visitors also seem to have another intention: to show that they are there. At least as many photos are taken before the fashion show as during the fashion show. The author feels as if she has entered a dystopian parallel world: well-dressed people who have never met before, posing in front of large lenses in a storm of flashbulbs. Influencers cleverly place themselves in the right light, in the right place, until the photographer notices them and grants their wish.

Apart from a few sets of eyes also watching the action, everyone is engrossed in their cell phones. Seeing seems much less important than being seen during Fashion Week Paris.

The places are calculated quite strictly. Maybe because the French are slimmer than the rest of humanity during Fashion Week. Maybe because they have less need for distance than the people around them. The author therefore does not dare to give up her seat for a cigarette and instead remains seated on her assigned bench. At one point she gets thirsty from sheer surprise, but there is no drink offering in sight. Anyway, she had imagined the catering for a very exclusive event a little more elaborate, but there was no sign of champagne and canapes. Fortunately, a “little bee” who is to be canonized soon hears their prayers and goes around with a bottle of water and paper cups (which are carefully collected again before the show).

The minute before the fashion show starts, it suddenly becomes quiet on the fourth floor of the garage. No rush. No whispering. But perfectly timed silence. The electronic music mentioned at the beginning pierces the silence like a sword and suggests that the first model will soon appear on the catwalk. One after the other, they took long, brisk steps across the echoing floor of the workshop.

And people do what they were invited to do: take photos, enjoy watching the people wearing their own haute couture and whisper to the people sitting next to them what can be worn on what occasion.

And what the models do is impressive. Because Germanier clothes are not that easy to wear: they often look heavy and cumbersome. And the special masks also give the impression that they are not very comfortable to wear. The latter is certainly not a priority at a haute couture show in Paris.

Kévin Germanier has made a name for himself in the industry with his fashion made from recycled materials. His designs shimmer and glitter. Neon colours, sequins, feathers and special silhouettes are his trademark. The motto of his spring collection is “Les Venimeuses”, or “the poisonous one”. It is inspired by a particularly colorful animal species: the nudibranchs, an often very colorful subspecies of the nudibranchs that live in the sea.

At the end, all the mannequins step onto the catwalk together again. Now comes the part of the show that Germanier says he finds “unpleasant”: the applause. And like previous collections, this one is hectic.

As soon as the clapping stops, the hall, which had just been full, is suddenly almost empty again. They all have to move on to the next event: the fashion show of the luxury brand Saint Laurent.

Taxis are already queuing outside the Renault garage. And so we rush into one of the waiting vehicles and are driven to the after-show party at a fancy Parisian restaurant. Then there’s what we’ve all been waiting for: Cüpli and canapés.