You may have heard his name or seen his brand logo. Perhaps you’ve seen his signature ‘60s Space Age fashion, ‘70s phallic cologne bottle, or popular ties. You’ve probably seen the early ‘60s Beatles’ grey, collarless suits. Whether you realized it or not, it’s almost certain you’ve seen Pierre Cardin’s work, whether in print, on screens or on the street. His visual mark on the 20th century is ubiquitous, but it’s his global cultural impact that is the biggest revelation in P. David Ebersole and Todd Hughes’ rich, densely packed documentary, House of Cardin.
Early on, Jean-Pascal Hesse, in charge of communication for Cardin, states “He’s always refused to allow his biography to be written.” Yet here at last we have a documentary feature with plenty of contemporary face time with the elusive Cardin. As with most biographical documentaries made with the participation of a world-renowned subject, House of Cardin is here to tell the story the subject wishes it to tell. But what Cardin chooses to discuss or not can be revealing in itself and any access to the private man is worth taking whether you’re familiar with him or not. The filmmakers have created a finely tailored biography, weaving together new and old interviews with Cardin, archival eye candy and interviews with a diverse array of fashionistas and celebrities whose lives he touched, from Jean-Paul Gaultier to Alice Cooper, Guo Pei to Dionne Warwick.
For devotees, this is required viewing with a thoroughness that could still offer surprises. For everyone else, this is an eye-opening portrait of a maverick innovator of the 20th century who lived the good life. Cardin got his start in French haute couture thanks to Christian Dior, but making a name for himself creating extravagant, one-of-a-kind dresses for the privileged few was not enough. Cardin wanted to design for everyone, calling himself “the first socialist in fashion”. By the late ‘50s, he broke all the rules and brought high fashion to the prêt-à-porter, or ready-to-wear, mass market. For this sin of selling his art at department stores, he became an outcast couturier, but this was Cardin’s first monumental innovation. Democratizing high fashion soon became the norm it is to this day, and it also happened to pay off quite well financially. Ready-to-wear’s success was so great, Cardin and Yves Saint Laurent famously battled over who deserved credit for pioneering it. Here we get Cardin’s last word on their rivalry (Laurent passed in 2008), in a rare moment of candor.
Cardin followed with innovations that further transformed the fashion industry and the world itself. He pioneered licensing and displaying his name and logo on garments before it became the norm. Cardin was the first couturier to take high fashion to Japan in 1959, then China and the Soviet Union during the Cold War. Cardin not only dressed the world’s multitudes, he created countless jobs thanks to licensing agreements which allowed global manufacturing of products under his brand using local materials. He also designed internationally for different sizes and shapes. Cardin pioneered the use of diverse models. His top model was Hiroko Matsumoto at a time when only tall, white models were acceptable. He even did the first men’s fashion shows, which was taboo in less tolerant times. The innovations continued as Cardin expanded into eyewear, fragrances, cosmetics, even aircraft and cars – again, breaking taboos. Cardin may think himself a socialist, but it is clear that he was a capitalist of the highest order, at one point diluting his own brand by indiscriminate over-licensing. One might consider the downsides of his globalist vision come true, but that is not addressed.
We also get a full accounting of Cardin’s several other pursuits which illuminate even more of his character. Perhaps the one he’s most proud of is his own theater, Espace Cardin. Over the decades he has supported up and coming talent from all disciplines. Here he gave Gérard Depardieu his first break, featured Marlene Dietrich and invited Alice Cooper to perform in 1971, sparking a riot. Cardin also has a whole history with film; he created costumes for several including Jean Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast, and famously had a long affair with French film royalty, Jeanne Moreau.
Neither Cardin nor the filmmakers dwell on regrets or mistakes he may have had over his career. It would have been illuminating to hear his thoughts about China’s labor practices considering his long, profitable relationship with them. It’s hard to believe there wasn’t any struggles underneath all of the genius, glamour and success. But the sheer volume of boundary-breaking over Cardin’s lifetime as presented here provides enough drama to keep viewers’ attention, and the constant visual feast doesn’t hurt either.
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