When Pieter Mulier joined Alaïa as creative director in 2021, he had the idea to one day create a collection entirely from white cotton poplin, an emblematic fabric of the late Tunisian couturier.
But after a discussion with Alaïa’s in-house fabric director, the Belgian designer settled on a different idea: a collection made entirely from a single wool yarn, which yielded one of the most memorable and striking fashion shows of 2024.
It was a concept in sync with Alaïa’s legacy of sensual shapes and innovative tailoring, free of extraneous embellishment — and an experiment that Mulier relished.
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“Basically it was taking something extremely minimal and doing something maximal with it, which is very Alaïa. It’s all about sculpture, it’s all about the shape. It’s all about the garment, and not what goes on top of the garment,” he says. “I can’t explain it, but felt like the right moment to do something so simple in a fashion landscape that is so [overcharged].”
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WWD Weekend decided to take a deeper look at how the collection was realized, as it signaled how intensive R&D around a simple idea can produce powerful fashion fireworks.
It also underlined the importance of specialty manufacturers, for Mulier realized the collection with two of Alaïa’s historic Italian suppliers, one for wovens and one for knitwear. Mulier declined to name the first one, but the second, Miles, is widely known as a key partner for Alaïa since 1981, realizing the brand’s body-shaping compression styles and swishy knit skater dresses.
In fact, Alaïa parent Compagnie Financière Richemont quietly acquired Miles last year, securing its vast archive and extensive know-how forged over decades of close collaboration with Alaïa’s fastidious founder.
Mulier says both suppliers were game, the woven manufacturer conscripted to develop poplin, cady, organza, denim and other fabrics, and Miles to create animal-printed knits, skirts with seamless godets and fluffy coats that resemble shearling.
Finding a yarn amenable to both weaving and knitting machinery proved a challenge, as the tension needed to produce flat, smooth wovens and fluffy knits is not the same, and yarns can easily break, Mulier says. “So after looking, looking and looking, we settled on a merino yarn, very, very thin, nearly like a silk yarn, but less bouncy. And we tested it.”
Four months into the experiment, the first trials were not quite up to snuff. But ultimately both suppliers figured out how to spin the merino yarn — with dashes of viscose, mohair and nylon where needed for additional softness, volume or strength — into the desired fabrics. After eight months of development, they were finally perfect.
“It was basically finding the right tension and the right machine to develop all these fabrics,” the designer says. “It was actually quite a nightmare for them in the beginning.”
Mulier notes that wool can be “quite tough and dry,” and its suppliers washed, glazed and used other finishing technique to realize the desired hand-feel and drape of each.
“Development of fabrics isn’t really something that is part of fashion culture anymore,” Mulier says, explaining that the proliferation of collections — many luxury houses unfurl one every two months — precludes that. “So I think on that level, [the factories] were quite excited to do something new.”
The collection concept also engendered an ecological angle, since the three implicated suppliers, including the yarn manufacturer, were all located in close proximity in Italy’s Veneto region, meaning minimal transportation of raw materials. Mulier says all the fabrics are yarn-dyed, not piece-dyed.
The one-yarn concept also engendered a different approach to building the collection. Normally, Mulier creates initial shapes in white muslin, but here, garments were developed with samples of the actual fabrics, all dyed ecru. So that meant a longer-than-normal process of development, followed by a more compressed period of design and fittings.
Mulier found working within his pre-set limitations exhilarating.
“I loved it, because it’s easier. Basically, you have no options. It is what it is. When you launch prototyping, you know already the fabric,” he says. “It taught me that you can do a lot with less — much less. And also when I saw or read the reactions after the show, the only thing I thought is, ‘Oh my god, it’s still possible. You don’t need all the bling and the circus around the show.'”
The merino experiment also facilitated a shift in fashion mood at Alaïa, long associated with clinging, hot-blooded silhouettes. Mulier had leaned into the sexy side of the brand with his first collections, encasing his models in leather, latex or nearly sheer jersey.
Here, the collection was more covered up, sly draping or expert coiling leaving slivers of skin exposed. “I also like the idea that a woman is sensual in wool,” he muses. “This overtly, assuming sexual woman — I’m not so sure if I’m into it anymore, and modern anymore to look at. It’s mostly a feeling I have.
“I felt that the sensuality that we showed was the right one, because it was between showing and not showing, between covered and not covered.”
Mulier confesses he wasn’t sure if today’s fashion audience — accustomed to extravagant sets, celebrity hoopla and theatrical bombast — would appreciate his one-thread collection, but they did. Alaïa’s fall collection — paraded to 150 people across three shows at the brand’s Rue de Marignan boutique — yielded ecstatic reviews and a “very, very good” reaction from wholesale clients and VICs alike.
“Many clients called to reserve pieces — even clients that we didn’t know, which is a good sign,” he says.
Among the coveted items were the opening looks constructed from looped yarns, a topiary-like pink coat, and the body-skimming dress worn by veteran model Mariacarla Boscono “because they love the idea of being fully covered, yet sensual.”
“I’m sure the collection will sell amazingly well,” echoes Myriam Serrano, chief executive officer at Alaïa, who says showroom appointments went “very well,” with buyers responding strongly to draped jersey dresses, asymmetrical skirts and tops, knitwear and the wool pieces that closely resembled denim.
She is confident that women will respond to the back story of the collection, with its innovative technicality, haute craftsmanship and pleasing design language exalting circular and rounded shapes.
Despite the short attention spans social media has engendered, and the razzle-dazzle peddled by today’s giant luxury brands, Mulier discovered that “a simple concept can be enough. And also that people respond to a simple concept, that made me very happy.”
He flicks through Instagram to find a video showing model Liisa Winkler strolling the silver runway in a simple halter top and unusual, balloon-shaped pants composed of layer-upon-layer of wool, undulating like the gills of a fish. It had racked up nearly 50 million views.
The designer points out that experimentation and freedom are deeply engrained in the Alaïa maison, for the founder did everything his own way: showing collections to his own calendar and at his whims, and was not slave to merchandising or marketing imperatives.
“It is a platform where people accept quite a lot,” Mulier says. “It’s part of the DNA of this brand to be free from many things.”
The merino experiment also yielded fabrics that he’s keen to use again in future collections. While confessing he was never a fan of wool cady, Mulier says he is taken by the one the brand’s woven supplier developed since it offers “a tension somewhere between masculine and feminine, which I like a lot.”
“And actually it’s a perfect fabric for daywear. It’s going to be a classic for us.”
What’s more, some of the knitted merino developed by Miles will also be reprised for certain style families in future.
Founded in 1962 by Silvia Stein Bocchese, Maglificio Miles SpA is the first company Mulier visited when he joined Alaïa, knowing it was the maison’s most important partner and guardian of its patrimony, having kept every piece made with the founder.
He explains that Stein Bocchese, already a key manufacturer for Yves Saint Laurent, Sonia Rykiel and Chloe, paid a visit to Azzedine Alaïa in the early ’80s to show him what she could do. “And they fell in love,” Mulier relates. “And basically, it was the beginning of the most important relationship that Azzedine had. He went often to visit them in Italy, and they became very good friends.”
The founder, always doing things his way, would sometimes make collections based entirely on knitwear, and it remains a linchpin category of the maison, accounting for about 45 percent of the business, according to Mulier.
The single-yarn collection, which falls under the fall 2024 season at Alaïa, has already been produced and is slated for delivery in July.
Mulier says sales associates will be fully educated about the genesis of the collection, so the fascinating “how-it’s-made” story can be transmitted to consumers.
“In the end, clients like a story, and they like when there’s a concept behind the clothes, more and more.”
Indeed, the brand is queuing up content to enlighten its clients and future clients about the collection, including footage of those merino yarns spinning in the knitwear factory.
Says Serrano: “This single-yarn story makes a strong statement…so it’s interesting to communicate around that.”
Editor’s note: This “Anatomy of a Collection” is the first of an occasional, recurring article delving behind fashion shows with a unique back story, particularly in R&D.