The A-list may have put its best foot forward on the Oscars red carpet on Sunday night, but the fashion thereupon took several steps back. Perhaps it was a meta-commentary on the event: the much-discussed racial profile of the night felt like something out of the early Eighties, and most of the dresses did too.
Taffeta, fishtails, pastels! At best it was as if a procession of vintage bridesmaids’ dresses had been taken out of storage specifically for us to have a good laugh at them (see Heidi Klum in Marchesa). At worst, all the imaginative developments made in the inherently cheesy field of “occasionwear” recently had been overlooked in much the same way as Idris Elba (again, Heidi Klum in Marchesa).
Modesty-wise, the pendulum seems to have swung back from the naked dress and all its various cut-outs and transparencies (the Oscars always picks up the gong for most bland fashion anyway), but when will the red carpet crowd learn that the opposite of revealing is not penitently unflattering?
Those professional temples to gorgeousness Kate Winslet, Reese Witherspoon and Alicia Vikander (usually the best dressed) swathed themselves in stiff or bulky fabrics that did little for them, respectively wearing sheeny black Ralph Lauren, purple Oscar de la Renta and lemon-yellow Louis Vuitton. To be fair to Vikander, the issue wasn’t so much the colour of her gown as its ruched, mullet hemline — two descriptors that should be sent back to the decade from whence they came.
There was also a problem with the sorts of curlicues one still finds in Barbie’s eveningwear wardrobe, but which we all thought event fashion had left behind 20 years ago. Lady Gaga, so often the provider of the only bit of edge in the line-up, went full naff in a white Brandon Maxwell jumpsuit-dress-with-train (several clues there). The normally ineffable Sofia Vergara in midnight-blue, twinkly Marchesa suffered from the sort of lumpiness only unnecessary frills, furbelows and pointless dress architecture can bestow. Foldover boob battlements, anyone? Frilly hip dado rail? Thought not.
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With the likes of Cate Blanchett and Naomi Watts in stolidly elegant Armani Privé (Blanchett’s dress a tufty aquamarine, Watts’s a cascade of blue and purple sequins), it was left to the up-and-coming crowd to provide something a little more interesting. This Rachel McAdams and Saoirse Ronan did with aplomb in similar shades of petrol green by August Getty and Calvin Klein. Both dresses were fairly conservative, but their sportier cuts added much-needed freshness to proceedings.
Jennifer Lawrence’s newly platinum hair also provided some verve, as did her black filigree lace Dior couture. From the same atelier, Charlize Theron’s crimson deep-V gown was classic red carpet dressing: simple but not plain; eye-catching without seeming needy. Brie Larson’s fluted blue Gucci comes under the same heading, as does Tina Fey’s strapless Versace — but there was that shade of purple again. Do we have emojis to blame for this aubergine revival?
In the silver-screen-icons corner we have Jennifer Garner in one-shouldered black Versace (the label had a great night) and Olivia Wilde in pleated white Valentine couture. They oozed uncomplicated old-school glamour of the sort that HD TV has rendered unfashionable, although Wilde’s décolletage had a touch of the too-tight-seatbelt about it. Julianne Moore, too, in full-skirted, black Chanel couture was proof that glorious Technicolor doesn’t always trump classic monochrome.
Speaking of Trump, was Leonardo DiCaprio’s slicked coif a homage? It seems unlikely given his subsequent remarks on climate change. Yet it was DiCaprio’s night, so let us spend a moment contemplating his red carpet look too: a black Armani tux, reminiscent of the scene in Titanic when he poshes up to have dinner in first class. He’s filled out a bit since his steerage days.
Honourable mentions must go to Rooney Mara’s Givenchy couture — yet another pale and interesting confection for this pale and interesting confection — and Emily Blunt’s empire-line Prada (just the right side of bridesmaid). Charlotte Rampling, who knows that long sleeves and a high neck have never not been chic, was absolutely spot-on in Armani Privé. And finally, to Margot Robbie in gold sequinned Tom Ford, who took this year’s meta-commentary to new Barthesian heights by coming as the statuette.