What is Galliano doing at Zara?

Queues at the doors of Zara stores, items sold out in minutes, resales at double the price, and videos on social media in which shoppers proudly show off their acquisitions are not exactly part of the usual experience at Amancio Ortega's house. But that is exactly what happened on October 1st. And it is not a minor anecdote: the arrival of John Galliano at Zara has altered, even if momentarily, the rules of the game in a territory much broader than that of fashion. Because Galliano is not only one of the great designers of the last decades: he is also a name loaded with symbolic capital associated with an Olympus of creation and luxury that, until not long ago, seemed incompatible with the fashion of common mortals. But what is different about this collaboration compared to the many others that, from time to time and for years, enliven –like a swallow that does not make a summer– the dimmed creativity of fast fashion chains?

In 1983, the American designer Halston, one of those who contributed to making the United States an unavoidable center of fashion, made a high-risk decision: to design a special collection for the department store chain J.C. Penney. In this way, he made his exclusive designs, previously reserved for celebrities like Jackie Kennedy, Liza Minnelli, and Bianca Jagger, available to a very broad public. And I say high-risk because that marked the beginning of the end of a dazzling career. The fashion sector experienced Halston's arrival at a mass distribution chain as a loss of value for his more exclusive proposals. After all, who wanted to pay high prices for what everyone could now acquire for little money? The issue, however, goes far beyond fashion. What was at stake was the need of the privileged classes to keep the boundaries, both physical and symbolic, that separate them from the rest, solid. The same applies to aesthetics: because distinction does not consist only of having more, but of being able to recognize oneself in forms that others cannot yet—or do not know how to—occupy.

Karl Lagerfeld, in 2004, dared to cross the border once again, this time hand in hand with H&M. Aware of what was at stake, the collection was presented with an intelligent advertising campaign in which people from a posh and decadent background, between shocked, incredulous, and angry, accused him of being a traitor: "Karl, Karl, is it true?! [...] But it is cheap!", they told him, and Lagerfeld replied: "What a depressing word. Everything is a matter of taste. If you are vulgar, there is nothing that can help you". An ambiguous phrase: on one hand, it rowed in favor of the general public, shifting the attention from the price to the taste; on the other, it satisfied his own, by affirming that even if you buy the clothes worn by the elite, if you do not have the "taste" or the knowledge to wear them, you will continue to be cheap.

In any case, this collaboration began a new era of collaborations that would end up becoming normalized. Major designers would go through the checkout, one after another, and, contrary to the fate suffered by Halston, these collections would become prestige strategies for both parties.

Shedding the skin

On October 1st, John Galliano took another step. He did not create a specific collection for Zara, but rather, by starting from pre-existing pieces from the brand and through entirely personal transformations, he turned them into a new collection. Furthermore, in the three physical points of sale – Madrid, London, and Paris – the luxury exclusive shopping experience was reproduced: prior appointment, restricted access, personalized attention, waiting lines, packaging that is very well taken care of, and a specific setting for the space.

In a way, some people –not many– who are not accustomed to luxury have been able to experience it and acquire pieces that, despite having high prices, are clearly lower than those of luxury. But it remains very far from a real democratization: when we have the feeling that luxury has been democratized, the privileged will probably already be inhabiting a new form of distinction and we will remain in the same place and at the same distance. Because when a form of luxury ceases to be exclusive, it also ceases to serve to distinguish. And when the sector opens the door to non-regulars, perhaps it does not do so for democracy, but to shed unnecessary ballast: drowned in a deep crisis, luxury is simply shedding its skin.