• Fashion Freak Show

9/12/25 (Fri)

Jean Paul Gaultier’s more-or-less autobiographical show, subtitled “The Exhibition”, has evidently been around for a few years, but I knew nothing about it when a friend called and tempted me with a free ticket. I assumed at first that it would just be a fashion show, but reviews from London and elsewhere suggested that it was a musical revue of sorts and were broadly positive. And I couldn’t argue with the price.

The show featured sequences of song, dance and comedy looking back on JPG’s colorful life in roughly chronological order. One actor/dancer played JPG in his signature striped shirt, while others popped in and out as needed. The set was dominated by colossal video screens (with incredible resolution) presenting a highly creative variety of kaleidoscopic images of the dancers, vibrant patterns, videos, posters, and more. One arresting sequence featured a performance at the Folies Bergère backed by huge images of his mother (I think) doing the can-can, while another had a runway sequence where each dancer appeared on stage amid a dozen video reproductions looming overhead and all around. Never a dull moment musical-wise. There was plenty of risqué content, naturally including gay and drag references, and a bit of nudity. All in good fun.

The dancers were mainly on the athletic spectrum, performing to music corresponding roughly to each era. That was fantastic since JPG and I are about the same age and evidently listened to the same soundtrack. The costumes were naturally outrageous, nothing I would wear in public but a perfect idea of what made the designer famous in the first place. I don’t get it at all, but obviously he struck a nerve and has continued to do so since his debut at age 18.

The opening sequence on the screens is in an operating room, where doctors carefully extract what turns out to be a teddy bear – which gives way to a line of giant dancing teddy bears. If the show is to be believed, JPG’s famous breast cones for Madonna were actually designed by him for his teddy bear when he was a toddler. Whatever the truth of that, it made for a buoyant opening, setting the playful tone for the madness to follow.

Not all of the comedy worked, especially overly extended parts featuring an Anna Wintour lookalike, though it was amusing to see her forget how much she hated the designer once he became famous. The choreography was largely MTV on steroids, but that fit perfectly in context. There was a lovely moment where JPG and his partner dance in the same striped shirt, only for the designer to find himself alone in the oversized shirt when the partner dies of AIDS. Choreographer Marion Motin managed to make that quite moving without falling into sentimentality.

One inevitable problem was that the videos tended to overwhelm the live performers on stage since our eyes naturally go to the giant images. While the video imagery was brilliant, I do wish they could find a better balance. Still, none of this was meant to be serious, so I suppose I should lighten up.

A number of famous people that either inspired or worked with JPG made an appearance either in legacy material (e.g., Josephine Baker, Tim Curry) or videos made for this show; I recognized Catherine Deneuve as a narrator and an Almodóvar regular as a schoolteacher, and the program lists others. The outgoing designer himself comes on the screen for a lively greeting and seems like a normal fun-loving guy. I was impressed at his description of his childhood as perfectly ordinary and his parents as encouraging and tolerant – not something I was expecting at all in a show by this “enfant terrible” of the fashion world. That itself was highly refreshing in this day, when creators seem to vie to see who’s had the toughest upbringing. The vivacious presentation seems right in line with his personality.

I had no expectations going in, not knowing anything about fashion, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. A very happy experience.