When future historians will examine the list of crimes against humanity of our time, the work of Dolce & Gabbana will feature prominently, or, as they say in fashion, boldly. The current exhibition of the dismal duo’s oeuvre at Grand Palais in Paris drives this point home with such ferocious force as to make one’s eyes bleed from all the ludicrous pomposity on display. Mistitled Du Coeur a la Main, it should have been called The Kingdom of Kitsch, because that’s what Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana have built, both at their brand and with this show at one of the world’s most venerable museums, whose stones are undoubtedly groaning with shame at having been burdened with so much bad taste.
The shame of Grand Palais is evident in the fact that the exhibit is held off to the side of the palace, and at its start features a decidedly unglamorous staircase that makes one wonder why we must enter through the servant quarters to get to the main rooms. Once inside, however, you’ll be wishing for the unadorned simplicity of the staircase, because adornment is all you’ll be seeing for the rest of your journey through the nine circles of fashion hell befitting Dante’s worst nightmares. You will see gold. You will see lots of gold. You will see so much gold that your brain will think that gold is all there is. You will be vomiting gold by the end.
The show is held on two floors and is broken down into various rooms with different themes. But there is a unifying element to the exhibit, sartorial kitsch. Because Dolce & Gabbana have been turning out kitsch for the last thirty years, we have forgotten how elegant their beginnings were in the late ‘80s and the early ‘90s. What happened after that is anybody’s guess – maybe they saw Gianni Versace’s success, or maybe they were simultaneously struck by lightning. It is entirely possible that some people think that what D&G produce is High Camp, a la Gaultier (or even Versace for that matter). Let this reviewer disabuse you of this notion. For the work of Dolce & Gabbana is heavy with self-importance and utterly humorless. The exhibition serves, if it serves any purpose at all besides being a major advertising vehicle for the brand, as a testament to that.
But, to the details. The exhibition starts with a series of highly ornamental ensembles meant to evoke Italian art heritage, particularly the Renaissance. There are jackets heavily embroidered with images of famous Italian paintings, including Portrait of a Musician by Leonardo Da Vinci, which I happened to see by chance ten days before at Pinacoteca Ambrosiana in Milan. (I prefer the painting.)
Aligning with Italian cultural heritage has been one of D&G’s calling cards. Undoubtedly they see themselves as part of the great Italian cultural lineage, which was evidenced by the amazing Leonardo Da Vinci clock that they restored and donated to the Pinanoteca, but only after slapping their logo on it. Here it must be said that just because Dolce and Gabbana are Italian does not guarantee that that they are heirs to Da Vinci any more than Fedez is an heir to Vivaldi. Speaking of which, in this atrocity exhibition the pair also tries to latch on to Italian opera and classical music. Whom are they kidding? We all know that in reality they listen to Dua Lipa as background noise while FaceTiming with Kourtney Kardashian, so she can order a dress embroidered with “G.PUCCINI, MADAMA BUTTERFLY” on it, even though she wouldn’t know Puccini from a cappuccino.
But I fear I am running ahead of myself, because before you get to the opera room you must pass through various other circles of visual hell. One of these features a Byzantine Christian theme weirdly combined with the Roman and the Greek, as evidenced in a mannequin of a legionnaire who holds Zeus’ thunderbolts in one hand against a backdrop of a golden icon. Not that one expects historical accuracy from Dolce & Gabbana – the point is that the art of the Byzantine empire had gold and jewels and gold and jewels are really what D&G are after. And Jesus, do they deliver on that front. I am confident that this exhibition caused a worldwide shortage of gemstones and golden thread, which in turn undoubtedly contributed to global inflation. There were gemstones on everything and everything with gemstones. And not just the clothes. The shoes – dear lord – THE SHOES! There were golden slippers with gems, velvet slippers with pearls, golden and velvet slippers with gems and pearls. It was unmerciful, which is, by the way, un-Christian.
But back to Italy. Did you know that Domenico Dolce is from Sicily and the pair is inspired by the beautiful island? You didn’t?! Don’t worry, there is a room for that too, one where folklore turns into kitsch through visual overload. The floors and the walls of this room are covered in colorful Sicilian tiles featuring cocks and feathers and happy peasant women. Only the ceiling is left untouched – a missed opportunity. On display in this apoplectically colorful room are videos showing the wonderful Sicilian craftsmen debasing themselves for Domenico and Stefano’s pleasure, as well as some highly feathered ensembles. And if the clothes are not enough, there are also Dolce & Gabbana x Bialetti stovetop coffee makers on display, which you can now – wink, wink – purchase in stores.
Are you not entertained?! Then proceed to another room, this one highlighting D&G’s tailoring skills. You will see half-finished jackets, tailored shirt collars, videos of impeccable handwork. So much savoir faire to serve so much bad taste, alas.
The exhibit loops around like a gaudy Mobius strip, and by the time you are out it all feels like one seizure-inducing blur. If the curators had mercy on their audience, the show would end with an entirely black room, so the visitors can decompress. And there are visitors aplenty – it was crowded and most time slots that were not on a Monday were sold out. Perhaps this show will beat some kind of an attendance record. And there is one record it will hold beyond a shadow of a doubt, for no museum has ever seen so much gaudiness per square foot.