It was after a sublime Auralee runway show on Tuesday, when the designer, Ryota Iwai, told a fleet of journalists that this collection was – as always – inspired by everyday life, that it struck me: These clothes work because they are cutting edge normcore.
If I gave you a flat description of what Mr. Iwai is showing, you might think I was describing a suburban dad’s closet: gray zip-up hoodies, fleece pullovers, a puffer vest, banker blue buttons, and pale jeans.
The Auralee show, and others from the first blush of Paris Men’s Fashion Week, swirled with the ghosts of normcore, which portrays the movement of wearing mundane, everyday clothing as an anti-fashion statement. Normcore burned bright and fast. It was extinguished by the steroid jolt of Instagrammable fashion: your look-at-me trompe l’oeil jeans and your leopard sneakers.
But what if normcore didn’t die? What if it just mutates? In Paris, the prosaic is still present, even if it has been polished into something, if not more luxurious, then at least more interesting.
Look at Auralee, where Mr. Iwai is a master at making the familiar feeling catchy. Its washcloths are cumulus soft, its fleeces are soft enough to wilt a Patagonia, and its corduroys are tailor-made for utopian perfection.
These pieces certainly cost (a wool Auralee hoodie sells for $1,585), but they’re appealing because you can convince (or perhaps fool) them into believing that you’ll want to wear them years from now. You could say that fashion is no longer for risk takers. It’s for investors.
Strong evidence for this evolution comes not from the shows, but from the hustle and bustle outside. On Wednesday I lost count of the number of retail shoppers wearing monotone €1,000 fleece jackets from French label Rier. Do you want to look like you are going to a fashion show in 2025? Dress as if you are walking your labradoodle. Throw on a bias overcoat, a black sweater and some New Balances. Voilà, over here to the front row, sir.
A little personal anecdote: The most compliments I received this week were for my thigh-length black work jacket with two slanted hip pockets and a leather collar. Some fellow showgoers mistook it for an Auralee creation. It was in fact a Comme des Garçons Homme jacket from 1990. As always, nothing is really new.
After all, what is the Row, the label that brings fashion connoisseurs into frothy, if not cutting-edge, basics? In the showroom on Tuesday afternoon, I came across a conventional camel V-neck in airy cashmere and black leather clogs that looked like Birkenstocks sent to grad school. I made my way to a pistachio work jacket that felt like I was grabbing a prince’s pillow. For a given customer, that hand feel is enough to validate costs beyond what a suburban dad could fathom.
At Lemaire, which is popular thanks to the curved croissant bags that seem to hang on the shoulder of every other Parisian under the age of, say, 47, designer Christophe Lemaire spoke of clothes “rooted in everyday life.”
Many models at the catwalk show were dressed sparingly: a T-shirt with an earth-tone suit, a light brown peacoat over a white button-up, a flowy dark raincoat. This was normcore, Parisian style.
But this undermines a collection that also dips into a debonair blue leather jacket, a leather ‘Donnie Brasco’ trench and a rugged leather blazer – pieces too opulent to be called average and which serve as an indication that Lemaire is continuing his financial success experiences. .
The advanced normcore case made its strongest appearance in the showroom of Carter Altman, an attractive 26-year-old Detroit native who works and designs in London under the name Carter Young. On his racks was a wardrobe full of polished basics: white T-shirts, blue-striped shirts and meaningless suits. But nothing screams middle-aged lawn-mowing dad like a pair of pleated jeans.
“Are people still quoting normcore?” Mr. Altman backed away when asked if he did, holding up those baggy jeans. After a while the idea dawned on him. He grabbed a pair of bulging, worn sneakers and then a maroon leather jacket.
“I guess you could call this a bit normcore,” he said, sounding strangely proud.
