Phoebe Philo, cult designer, returns on her own terms
The former Celine creative director’s refined debut collection largely picks up where she left off five years ago.
There has been a Phoebe Philo-shaped hole in fashion since the designer stepped down from Celine in 2018. For a decade at the LVMH-owned label, the British native served up an evolving wardrobe of polished ease — of mannish “Crombie” coats, generous trousers and sculptural accessories that women, particularly those who worked in the fashion industry, coveted and felt empowered by. And where Philo went — lining sandals with fur, pairing neons with muted colours, reviving the once-dowdy midi-length hem — much of the rest of the industry followed.
Five years later, Philo has returned with her own long-awaited fashion line, with minority backing from her previous employer LVMH.
The line, which was shown via one-to-one press appointments at the brand’s west London studio last week and debuted on Monday at phoebephilo.com, largely picks up where Philo left off at Celine.
It looks and feels great, grounded in hard-working pieces that function as building blocks of a wardrobe — roomy striped shirts and knits pre-washed so as not to look new; high-waisted wool trousers cut wide in the leg (some with back zips that whizz from the ankle all the way up to the waistband); and fluid, deconstructed trenchcoats similar to those Philo designed for Celine. Useful too are the stretch-satin dresses with built-in bodysuits short enough to double as blouses.
More adventurous are oversized leather bomber and flight jackets cut with elegant standing collars and low ruched waistbands — sure-fire hits — and furry trousers of hand-combed viscose. There are also “show pieces” more suited to a museum than the corner office, including a handful of voluminous, shaggy coats of that same hand-combed viscose, each of which takes 300 hours to make and weigh as much as a small child (they will be released later this autumn).
And what of the bags? During her tenure at Celine, Philo turned out a number of styles — among them the curvaceously topstitched Luggage tote and functional Trio cross-body — that achieved bona fide “It” status and led to a fourfold revenue increase to €750 million (about S$1.089 billion) to €800 million, according to Citi analysts.
The designs for her own range are simpler and more understated, with minimal hardware and hardly a logo in sight (her name is “blind embossed” on the exterior of two bags). Of these, a topstitched leather frame bag and a trio of rectangular weekender totes (so supersized they would just about fit in the overhead locker of a plane) are the most promising, if not precisely “It” material.
Philo has kept quantities small, purportedly to limit the label’s environmental impact, but probably also to whip up hype. Of the 150 styles she has designed thus far, no more than 100 of each have been produced on average. They will be released across three “edits” — A1, A2 and A3 — in the coming months (A2 will drop in spring).
The possibility — and it does seem possible — that the collection will sell out quickly may help shoppers overcome any potential qualms about the prices. Shearling coats top the collection at £12,000 (about S$19,938) to £18,000 apiece. Knits range from £650 to £3,200, while tailored trousers start at £950 and jackets at £2,400 — about the same as The Row, the American label that has perhaps come closest to filling the void left by Philo. Bags run from £2,600 to £6,200, on a par with Bottega Veneta and Dior.
Internally, the company is bracing for a shopping deluge, and has limited purchases to one of each style per customer to prevent them from being resold at even higher prices on secondary marketplaces. That will happen anyway — particularly as the collection is only shipping to the US, UK and mainland Europe, and customers further east will be seeking out other channels to buy.
Does the collection justify the hype? To many, the clothes and bags may appear spectacularly plain, the prices exorbitant. Generally, the colours are muted and dark, the fabrics simple, the fit relaxed and elongated. But the devil, as any “Philophile” worth their salt will tell you, is in the details — in the precision of the cuts, the quality and hand-feel of the fabrics and leathers, and the exactness of the proportions. It’s what has driven the popularity of fan accounts such as @oldceline (360,000 followers) and kept secondary market values for Philo-era Celine at (and sometimes surpassing) their original retail prices.
The name on the label also certainly matters. Gold metallic leggings, which might be naff coming from another designer, look cool and irreverent in the context of a Philo collection; so too does a silver collar necklace linking the word “MUM” on repeat. Philo’s good taste is so unquestioned that women who might not trust their own feel confident investing in her pieces.
Not every design is a success. It’s difficult to imagine the Phoebe Philo customer unzipping her trousers to her midriff, or going wild for the frayed skirts that offer scant coverage on the legs but trail on the floor. The metallic jewellery, much of it cube-shaped, is rather plain. More successful are the shoes, particularly the low-heeled Club loafers, and a studded black leather suspender belt that would propel a simple pair of trousers into fashion-forward territory.
The collection does beg the question of why Philo has decided to go it alone. She is not shackled to any house archives, yet the aesthetic is not significantly different from what she produced at Celine. And the luxury market today doesn’t financially favour small, independent labels that can’t afford to build fleets of stores (the vast majority of luxury goods are still sold physically), invest hundreds of millions in marketing or produce the minimums needed to secure the best suppliers (though Philo’s reputation seems to have helped her overcome that). The strength of Philo’s name alone will sell her wares at the prices she is asking, but they would benefit from being shown on a runway and sold in physical stores, where the quality and nuance of fit and design could be best appreciated.
That may come in time. Or she may continue to keep quantities small and distribution tight, defying the mass-marketisation and relentless demand for newness that has gripped the rest of the luxury goods industry. The advantage of having her name on the door is that Philo can do exactly as she pleases, on her own terms.
Lauren Indvik © 2023 The Financial Times
The article originally appeared in The Financial Times