Roland Garros: between sport and the catwalk

Tulles, bows, sequins, pearls, corsets... could be the ingredients of a Parisian haute couture fashion show, but these days they are part of one of the great stages of world sport: Roland Garros. Tennis player Naomi Osaka has once again turned her entrance onto the court into a visual event, with a series of outfits designed by Swiss creator Kevin Germanier that have generated as much conversation as some of the tournament's matches. It wasn't the first time. Last year she had already surprised with a spectacular Robert Wun dress inspired by a jellyfish. This year, Osaka took to the court dressed to the nines, with a transparent tulle skirt and a bodice made from recycled pieces. Once in place, however, she sheds this first layer to reveal another, copper-colored one that blends with the clay court, but at the same time emits metallic reflections inspired, according to Germanier himself, by the night lighting of the Eiffel Tower. An authentic scenic transformation thus occurs: first Naomi the celebrity appears, almost as if walking down a red carpet; then Naomi the sportswoman emerges, ready to compete. This structure of revelation traditionally belongs to the language of fashion and spectacle rather than sport. It is not surprising that some commentators have coined the term court-ure, a fusion of court and couture, to describe this phenomenon. And all of this takes on a curious historical resonance when we consider that the scene takes place on the Suzanne Lenglen court, the great French tennis player who, at the beginning of the 20th century, understood before anyone else that transforming the players' clothing also meant transforming their place in society.

This phenomenon is not exclusive to women's tennis. In this same edition of Roland Garros, Novak Djokovic sported a surprising jacket created by Lacoste, directly inspired by the texture and colors of the clay court. To reproduce its characteristic irregularities, the brand even used real clay from the Parisian courts in the manufacturing process. As in Osaka's case, the piece transcends mere sporting functionality to become a visual narrative linked to the tournament's identity. An almost premonitory choice if we consider that, against all odds, the Serb went from dressing as "clay" to being "slain" in the third round. The question is, therefore: how is it possible that a tennis tournament has become one of the spaces where fashion generates the most media buzz?

Without uniform and from the elite

Tennis is not the sport with the most impact. Football and basketball continue to concentrate a large part of global attention. However, while their protagonists must submit to the discipline of the team uniform, tennis offers exceptional freedom to build a personal visual identity. Nor does it require attire as conditioned by technique as cycling or swimming, where clothing is subordinated to criteria of aerodynamics and performance. And, unlike other disciplines such as figure skating, where spectacularity is part of the show itself, in tennis it continues to retain a certain capacity for surprise. But one of the factors that explain fashion's interest in tennis is its historical connection with social elites. Golf shares some of these traits: traditionally associated with affluent classes and without team uniforms. But, while its broadcasts are fragmented and constantly alternate between different players, tennis focuses the gaze on two unique players, in an atmosphere of silence, expectation, and contained tension. Every gesture, every ritual, every expression, every movement, and even every breath are observed with extraordinary attention. This creates a kind of mystique around the tennis player's body that few sports manage to generate. And it is precisely this combination of social distinction, visibility, and fascination that has made tennis an especially fertile ground for fashion, celebrity culture, and the construction of public identities.