Hands up: Daniel Roseberry (Schiaparelli)

Entwined fingers formed as bag clasps. The the index, middle, ring and little fingers offered up as jewels. Hands are everywhere in the large salon overlooking the Place Vendôme where Schiaparelli’s ready-to-wear collection by Daniel Roseberry is on display. Hands are also instrumental to producing every piece – in the atelier, they cut impeccably tailored suits; a swimsuit enveloped in a shocking pink silk cabbage; a plush spa bathrobe ornamented with lustrous stars. Alternately referred to as “Psycho chic” or “David Lynch Holidays”, the joy is there, bursting like ripe fruit. It’s visible in the eccentric striped deckchairs and the inflatable leather down jacket. It’s a white cotton sweatshirt covered in eye-shaped hardware that asks for attention. These silhouettes are drawings in movement; an imaginary road on which the classics (the Gucci bit, the Hermès horse) receive a euphoric slap: “Couture iconography” assures Roseberry, artistic director of the house since 2019. Every creation exists as though he were immersing his hands in a world of lines and extravagance of which Elsa Schiaparelli is the guardian. Soon, she will be honoured at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs for a retrospective scheduled for next spring. So yes, every season is a treasure hunt infused with wonder. For many years, Roseberry’s hands were a world away from Paris;  born in Plano, Texas, he grew as the son of a pastor and an artist mother. He views his palms and says – what they are capable of containing – and says: “My hands are the windows of my soul”. Certainly, the hand, like the eye, traces the history of the label. We recall the fingernail gloves (From the Schiaparelli Winter 36-37 collection), or else the hand holding a handkerchief of sequins embroidered with gold thread at the bottom of a gray linen jacket (Jean Cocteau, 1937). And let’s not forget the child who seems to wave a white handkerchief in his handcuffs as if to say silently, “Come on, escape with me”. @laurence-benaim