Five questions with
Vincent Darré
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Designer, artist, scenographer, (and many other things!) Vincent Darré grew up in Paris in the 80s, a time of great fashion and even better parties – “when you could easily bump into Andy Warhol or Yves Saint Laurent at the club.” His career began in fashion; he traveled from Paris to every corner of the Italian peninsula to work for Prada, Blumarine, and La Perla. He worked at Fendi alongside Karl Lagerfeld (and for countless other brands) before embracing decorative arts. During one of his numerous career shifts he met Marie, and their friendship unfolded between Paris and Venice for decades. It’s a glorious October day when my team and I visit Darré in his apartment, hidden in a private, tranquil road in the heart of Paris. Inside, the impression is that of a colorful theater, each room offering a different, eccentric scenography for his everyday life. “The problem with this house is that you enter from the kitchen,” Darré explains. So he camouflaged cabinets and stoves under a pattern of green and white stripes that make the room look like a circus tent – or one of our Berlingot tumblers. With a warm autumn light filtering in through the surrounding trees, we lay comfortably in a couple of Maison Darré’s armchairs and start to chat. |
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Interview Caterina Capelli
Photos Alessandro Trevisan
Styling Erica Toffanin |
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In 1995, you photographed our founder, Marie, for Town & Country. Is that how you met each other?
Not really. My first contact with Marie was through Brigitte Baer. She was a super chic Parisian lady with black hair, Roger Vivier’s shoes, and a great friend of Marie’s mother. She was also my friend and the first to wear a dress I had designed in fashion school. Then I met Marie at a restaurant in Milan. As she walked in, I was in awe. This beautiful woman with long, red hair and an incredible smile, I thought, had the aura of a movie star. We were both waiting for a table, and she started talking to me, but we sat at different tables when the time came. Years later, as I was suffering a terrible personal breakdown, my friend François Baudot took me to Venice to distract me. Marie welcomed me into her home, and we became very close friends from that moment on. So when I took her pictures for Town & Country, our relationship was already strong. Marie had just started working at her glassware, and I had just begun as a photographer. When Town & Country asked me to collaborate, I said: “I have a friend who is the most beautiful, the chicest woman on Earth. She’s called Marie Brandolini, and she makes glasses in Murano.” We arrived in Venice with plenty of clothes, including one by Christian Lacroix, which made her look like a princess. I wanted to show Marie in a way that would make people dream – You know, the countess inside the palace. But I also wanted to expose her simpler sides. The article was very successful, and I later learned it was the first ever published about her.
Photographer, fashion designer, scenographer… How has your multi-hyphenate career evolved?
In the 80s, fashion was very in vogue. I used to go to Le Palace, a club in Paris where you could meet a fascinating mix of very different people. My group was the youngest – I was 17, and Christian Louboutin was only 13 – but there were older habitués we used to look up to, like Philippe Starck, Yves Saint Laurent, and Loulou de la Falaise. Then you had punks, artsy people, cinema people – you could meet anyone, and I actually made a lot of good friends there. Before our nights at the Palace, I made clothes for my friends. These were quick outfits, but everyone thought I was “made for fashion.” So I took up a fashion school called Studio Berçot and started working with Yves Saint Laurent, Montana, and then with this brand, Goldie, that made jeans. I went to Asolo, Veneto, where you only had two things at the time: Eleonora Duse's house and one trattoria. Afterward, I designed the first Prada collections, and before that, I worked with Bluemarine. Meanwhile, I was designing at La Perla in Bologna and for a brand that no longer exists, Mario Valentino, in Naples. I lived all over Italy for years. Then, I fell in love with the decorative arts. Maison Darré, which I founded in 2008, was the project that made all my dreams come true. As a child, everyone has dreams. You have your whole life to fulfill them. If you don't, you risk becoming an old sourpuss. My dream was to create decorations and costumes, and I did. Costumes for fashion and decorations for life. When I first showed my furniture in galleries and stores, the trend was minimalism. I presented something very different and eclectic, and while my pieces found immediate success with the press, the first customers were scared. But things have changed, and my eclectic taste is more acceptable now. |
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What’s your definition of creativity? And how do you approach art?
[Creativity is] Total freedom. Not being conventional or influenced by power anyhow. A blank page to fill with your raving: That’s creativity to me. In my job, I think I was among the first to apply surrealism to décor. I love Surrealists and Dadaists – I consider them revolutionaries with a sense of humor. Art is more spiritual. Decorative arts don’t deal with serious or deep stuff. Artists, like philosophers, tell the truth. But we don’t tell the truth. We lie. You’re right in saying my decorations and designs are very theatrical: I approach every project as if I were writing a script for the cinema or the theater. I tell a story. When I worked for Schiaparelli, I was inspired by the movie Funny Face with Audrey Hepburn. If I design a club, I think of Serge Gainsbourg. Once, Isabelle Adjani came here and said: “It feels like entering one of your drawings.” And I loved it, the idea of living inside a watercolor.
Do you have an archive?
Well, it’s a long story. Initially, when I started Maison Darré, I only had a small gallery. But I was dreaming of a great place. So I found this apartment in 13, rue Royale, an immense place that looked like a palace, with five-meter-high ceilings, parquet Versailles, and a boiserie 18ème. The price was mad, and I was, too. To buy this new place, I emptied my house and sold everything. It felt wonderful, like the beginning of an entirely new story. You know, I learned the lesson from Karl Lagerfeld, who always said: Il ne faut pas penser au futur! – “Never think about the future!” He was right: You can't move forward if you are stuck in your memories. On the contrary, I finally felt free to invent even more furniture. I regretted it a little bit because I realized that certain things –some antiquities, for instance – are not around anymore. But in the end, I think it did me good. Now, I am rebuilding my archives: I’m buying back things I had sold.
Despite being expressions of traditional craftsmanship, Laguna~B glasses have always been considered “contemporary.” What does it mean to be contemporary?
Not to be stuck in one era is crucial. Marie embodied that; She has done her work so that it could continue. It can be compared to a Chanel jacket or a Chanel bag. L'important c'est de durer, Yves Saint-Laurent said. “It’s important to last.” It’s true. It’s easy to make a boom, but continuing in time isn’t so easy. |
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Discover Vincent's selection
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