The Stella McCartney show began with a video message from Mother Earth, a manifesto read by the actor Olivia Colman. It goes:
“You have called me many names / And you know my face / You see me in the trees / The birds / The waves / You all came from me / In harmony / So why are you harming me? / We are always together / And despite your attempts at emancipation / You cannot cut the umbilical cord that connects the entire planet / Sorry, baby / I am the only mother where it is natural for her to outlive her children / But what will be left of me / After you? / I still love you / Do you still love me? / I need you to show it / Show me you love me / It’s about fucking time / It’s about fucking time / It’s about fucking time.”
If you read the climate headlines, it can feel like it’s already too late. More than a million acres of the Texas Panhandle have burned in the still-raging Smokehouse Creek fire, and scientists are warning about a crucial tipping point in the warming of the Atlantic Ocean that could precipitate system collapse. Less calamitous but equally telling is how early spring has sprung here in Paris. The equinox is two weeks away, and the magnolia trees are already blooming. It’s the same elsewhere. How does a woman, especially if she’s a mother, not get depressed about it all?
McCartney is preternaturally upbeat—maybe it’s all the time she spends in the country?—and that refusal to see the cup half empty infuses her collections. Though her tailored jackets are cut with power shoulders that could command a board meeting, she styles and sends them down the runway sans shirts or underpinnings.
On the more laid-back side of things, slouchy matching knit sets are accessorized with loopy yarn boas long enough to dust the floor with. There’s not the preciousness you get with other high-fashion labels; McCartney wants you to have a bit of fun in her clothes.
Other cases in point this season included the tailoring with cut-crystal detailing in the style of a Chloé collection McCartney designed circa spring 2000 and jeans with built-in eco-leather chaps accompanied by a tank printed with the ending refrain of the Mother Earth manifesto. That much of this had been constructed with responsibly sourced or recycled materials and vegan alternatives to animal products is another reason to feel good in McCartney’s clothes. None of it will save Mother Earth, but wearing it and supporting McCartney might help spread the word about all the trouble that’s coming, and that’s at least something.
