Reviving a sports-based heritage brand is never a walk in the park, nor should it be. It should be ruddier, like Lacoste’s collection today, an exercise in trim tactility and fit minimalism. Which is to say, creative director of almost six years Felipe Oliveira Baptista is settling into the role like a natural. During an editors’ preview a day earlier, he referenced the French Ski Team and old-school Atari graphics that he morphed into pixelated skiers and snowmen. Playful, uplifting, and naïf, in other words. Or, as musical director Michel Gaubert described his soundtrack, “a modernist ski chalet that turns into a disco.”
Like last season—which saw a revisit of the house’s Olympic history to great, abstract effect—for Fall, the designer again mined the archives, which now spans 80 years. The retro-rich tone was set in the first exit, a slick women’s PVC poncho and track pants (although, as the designer pointed out, the side stripe was in fact three distinct stripes—no skimping here), followed by a psychedelic blue wood-grain padded suit. Long shearling overcoats—some reversible—had bisecting zippers at the waist, while color-blocked snug sweaters came with zip-attached gloves. The Lacoste headband, too, was shown with an attachment, a scarf that wrapped around the face to create a high collar.
The snowy ’70s vibe—appropriate on this freakishly frigid day, with temps dipping into the single digits—continued with velvet track suits, moleskin culottes, streamlined turtlenecks, and a knit poncho dress with more of those pixelated figures skiing down the front, as well as thigh-high patent boots and huggable padded bags. The classic polo shirt, with which the brand has long been synonymous, made a single yet dramatic appearance in bright orange PVC and paired with a matching flared skirt. Lacoste's ’70s advertising also got the wink-nudge treatment. Everyone gets the “un crocodile” reference, but what about the feminine, “une crocodelle,” which Baptista spelled across a pink sweater? Cheeky, non? It¹s been a while, croco . . . well, you get the drift.
