DAMNA GVASALIA

Interview by Filep Motwary 

This year marked a historic moment: Balenciaga’s first Haute Couture show under the visionary hand of Georgian-born Demna Gvasalia. I watched it unfold from my living room, streaming live from the iconic 10 Avenue Georges V in Paris. On July 7th — 53 years after Cristóbal Balenciaga’s retirement in 1968 — the legendary house’s intimate salon reopened its doors to welcome a select audience, now guests of its contemporary creative director.

From the very first frame — the brand’s emblem centered on my screen — to the second shot revealing the pristine white salon, the wait was no more than five minutes. Cameras positioned around the room captured guests seated on gilded ballroom chairs — favorites of Napoleon Bonaparte and Yves Saint Laurent alike — arranged sparsely along the minimalist space. Silence hung heavy, impatience visible on most faces. Then, suddenly, the first look appeared: an oversized black tuxedo worn by an androgynous model, striding swiftly through the room without music, clutching a single red carnation — identical to those handed out upon arrival.

What followed were seven suits — some with sharp, others with soft shoulders; some with clean, straight lines, others emphasizing the waist — all engaging in a continuous dialogue with the body. The visible space between fabric and skin felt like a debate on fit and tailoring rules. Philip Treacy’s hats reminded us this was Balenciaga’s future, not its past. The rustle of garments, dictated by their diverse materials, combined with the measured pace of the models, became the show’s acoustic backdrop — a stunning, high-caliber performance evolving with every passing moment.

Historically, Cristóbal Balenciaga’s absence of music in his runway shows demanded the audience’s full attention on the clothes. Demna Gvasalia has embraced this tactic, but with a dual purpose: a plea for silence amid the city’s relentless noise and digital chaos — a rare moment to breathe and disconnect. What I witnessed was breathtaking — a far cry from Gvasalia’s debut with Vetements in 2015, in the stifling underground rooms of the controversial Paris club Le Dépôt. Though that first unisex collection garnered rave reviews, few imagined then that he would be the worthy heir to one of fashion’s greatest minds — a master tailor and true sartorial intellectual, Cristóbal Balenciaga.

When I met Demna for this interview, our 15-year acquaintance emboldened me to confess my initial skepticism when he was named creative director six years ago. “You weren’t alone,” he smiled. “When offered the role, I asked myself the same question: Why me, and not someone else? I was trying to understand what they saw in my work — something even I wasn’t fully aware of. Fashion had just discovered me, after the uproar created by Vetements’ bold shows, and naturally, opinions about my suitability for such a legendary house were divided.”

“The choices I made early on to promote my work, however extreme they seemed, were absolutely necessary. My design philosophy began in sportswear aesthetics — oversized hoodies and towering boots with sharp heels. So, associating my name with a house representing the highest form of tailoring made no sense. Yet I couldn’t deny what those decision-makers recognized in my creative approach, which I hope reveals my love for architecture. Ignoring the essence behind that offer would have been a mistake.”

The 1970s saw prêt-à-porter challenge haute couture’s reign — the hands-on, artisanal savoir-faire — by introducing mass-produced, formulaic designs with cheaper methods. Thankfully, since 2010, couture has experienced a revival — a renewed passion for quality, authenticity, and elevated aesthetics. This happened alongside prêt-à-porter’s evolution into a seemingly equal yet detached art form. From this hybrid emerged what some call Haute-à-Porter — but that’s another story.

For Gvasalia — who rapidly conquered prêt-à-porter and imposed his aesthetic on Western European fashion — couture was a natural next step, carefully orchestrated. “Designers often settle, which I personally detest, probably because my life has never been comfortable,” he admits. “I’m constantly at odds with my desires, while simultaneously challenging the status quo through my work. I don’t stop working, even when I could. I want to evolve. I love this craft because it pulled me out of boredom. I learned to sew, to make hats, to create everything a jacket needs to hold its shape, alongside all the minute details defining a fashion designer’s scope. That’s why I delayed launching Balenciaga Couture — I didn’t feel ready to enter that grand arena, lacked sufficient knowledge, and needed to gather resources to stand on my own. The ample time during the pandemic helped me let things mature and flow naturally.”

Asked about Cristóbal Balenciaga, and what fascinates him about the legendary figure — admired even by Christian Dior — Demna is unequivocal: “No couturier influenced my vision of the body and garment like Balenciaga did. He was a tailoring genius who, with just two seams, could straighten a hunched body! The idea that fashion can redefine the wearer is the real reason I do this job. I’m always learning more about him — his relationship with the press, his uncompromising standards regarding garment construction, pricing, and so on. He was also a savvy businessman, rare in our world. No one else knew how to make fashion better than him.”

Beyond the impeccably tailored suits, Demna cleverly highlighted his ingenuity through comfortable elements — bathrobes and capes, shirts and T-shirts — alongside fabrics like denim and cotton. But what place does streetwear have in a handmade, high-cost collection? “The street is part of our daily life. I find it hard to imagine myself confined to a palazzo wearing these clothes, cut off from real life. The street’s energy is something I experience every day on my way to work. I absorb everything around me like a sponge to translate it into my atelier. My design roots are deeply tied to streetwear — that’s how I became known. I owe it to my audience to respect that, while also offering something luxurious to the younger generation eager for new experiences. Denim isn’t fresh vocabulary in couture; Christian Lacroix and John Galliano honored it beautifully in the recent past, so it was important for me to work with it too. The kind I used is special, handwoven in Japan, with all metal details crafted from real silver.”

Reflecting on the new era, I note his collection’s genderless nature — a deliberate challenge to the idea that haute couture is exclusively for women. “I saw it as an opportunity to rethink couture and how it can expand. One of the main issues when deconstructing couture is its mentality. Why must it be worn only by women? That’s not modern at all, it’s limiting,” he asserts. “When I was making some of the collection’s dresses, I caught myself wanting to wear them. That desire sparked a new conversation with our clients about gender and freedom. Many are men who spend considerably on prêt-à-porter collections. I’m confident they’ll find our couture line equally compelling.”

From the 21st look onward — of 63 total — silhouettes grew increasingly dramatic. The black that dominated early on gradually gave way to vivid colors, paired with exaggerated, voluminous shapes that satisfy every fashion fantasy. Gvasalia’s taffeta creations provoke a sense of awe, even through a screen, marking the maturation of a designer who has quietly claimed his space. He chose to immerse himself in handmade techniques out of profound respect for the garment. “To express myself in a contemporary way, I had to study Balenciaga’s 100-year heritage,” he reveals. “I delved into the archives to redefine the past with new life. Photographs and videos transported me to that era. This process was essential to understand Balenciaga’s origins. It became my compass to chart the direction I needed. The biggest challenge was creating a collection that wasn’t just a tribute to the past. I started building a new bridge to welcome a new kind of client, different from the 1960s one. I admit that although my research began in the archives, I ended up seeking this collection’s starting point in my own wardrobe,” he laughs.

Behind their commanding elegance, his clothes feel like armor. Their deliberate detachment from the wearer’s body reinforces this impression. “That’s exactly what I wanted to achieve — the essence behind Balenciaga’s vision of the body, trying to separate and simultaneously unite them. Clothes are more than fabric sculptures; they have their own life, worn or not. Couture garments remain the same on the body and on the hanger. They don’t change — that’s admirable. Beyond the craftsmanship required, what fascinates me is tailoring’s process and how it reflects our need to belong to a collective. Fashion is often underrated, which is strange given our daily relationship with it. At the very least, it allows us to intervene on our bodies and elevate ourselves to the best version without traumatic procedures like plastic surgery — a theme I explored in a previous Balenciaga collection.”

Every era defines its own limits on extravagance, but for Demna, clothes are a means to push boundaries. “Over centuries, we’ve preserved the same number of edges, curves, and movements — the timeless platform for a fashion designer’s expression. We’re quite limited in what we can do. Personally, I’m not interested in creating excess merely for Fashion Week. I often think of ancient Greek sculpture — the bodies and impeccably carved folds of their garments. I wonder if their mastery stems from their knowledge of fabric and the human form. Drapery remains relevant today. Draping technique is a big part of my creative expression, and every time I look at those statues, I’m amazed — they did it so well, I doubt we can surpass them.”