Azzedine Alaïa, the founder of the maison that bears his name, was affectionately known as the ‘King of Cling’. Even just a cursory look at his designs makes it obvious why: his dresses went beyond figure hugging, earning devotions from the likes of Grace Jones, Naomi Campell (who even called him Papa), and – naturally – me.
Growing up, the second-skin dresses made by the Tunisian couturier were a constant on my mood boards, rivalled only by a pair of Manolo’s (thank you Carrie Bradshaw). So when Pieter Mulier was announced as the first Creative Director to succeed after Alaïa’s death in 2021, my curiosity was piqued. I wondered whether, as Raf Simons’ right-hand for many years, Mulier would prove himself to be a designer who truly loved women just as Alaïa so famously did?. Would Mulier continue the founder’s reputation for doing things his way, and only his way? His predecessor was, after all, a man blacklisted by Anna Wintour for refusing to play by her rules.
Mulier made no grand proclamations about his vision for the Richemont group-owned house. His plans (and his process) remained deliberately opaque. With hindsight, that restraint feels entirely fitting.
It seems, with the last five years as proof, that I needn’t have worried. As well as being crucial to the rebuilding of the maison’s success and global relevance, Mulier didn’t stray too far from the ethos of the founder. Now, as he’s been announced to be joining Versace as their CEO (replacing Dario Vitale as Creative Director) it seems like the right moment to reassess his term – specifically from a sustainability POV, as a designer leading an iconic maison at the height of the sustainability movement.
True to form, Mulier was just as ambiguous about his sustainability ideas as he was about aesthetics. As onlookers, we were forced to sit and wait patiently for his first collection and as time progressed, it appeared that sustainable materials weren’t at the forefront of the his mind. Does this make him unsustainable as a designer? No, not necessarily. Whilst eco-messaging has never been part of the way that Mulier as a designer or Alaïa as a house has operated, there were clear structural and philosophical elements to how the maison functioned under the Belgian that place them in a more sustainable position than their peers.
Throughout his career, Azzedine Alaïa was famously critical of the fashion industry’s relentless pace. Speaking to WWD, the designer said four shows a year were his maximum. Any more, and “designers break down”, creativity sacrificed to exhaustion (WWD). Under Mulier, this was continued: two main collections (Winter/Spring and Summer/Fall), and two ‘essentials’ collections annually. This is significantly less than a lot of the major houses. For example, Jonathan Anderson designs 18 collections a year: 10 for Dior, 6 for his eponymous label, and 2 for Uniqlo.
Whilst not necessarily being sustainable for sustainability’s sake, a limited number of shows a year means that Maison Alaïa will have substantially less of an environmental impact than many other houses. In an industry addicted to excess, Mulier’s ability to consistently produce collections that garner international praise without constant overproduction deserves recognition.
Mulier once said that part of the beauty of Alaïa is that it is “‘aesthetically’ sustainable,” a phrase that initially struck me as vague – even evasive (DOCUMENT). But on reflection, it holds more weight than it first appears. To be successful in showing only four shows a year, the clothes need to stand the test of time, no matter where they are coming from. To describe Alaïa as sustainable in its aesthetics is to suggest that longevity is built into the designs themselves. Looking at the collections, from the first to the last, drives this home.
Alaïa Debut Show, 1982
Alaïa Winter/Spring 26
It’s clear to see that the essence of the collections is aligned, and you’d be just as admired wearing an asymmetric vest with a pencil skirt in 2026 as you would be layering an asymmetric skirt with a dramatic fringe. That continuity is the point. Mulier’s commitment to endurance is evident throughout his time at the maison, not least in his debut collection, which revitalised hooded gowns originally designed by Alaïa himself; these pieces remain among the house’s best sellers.
Ultimately, rather than having eco-friendly materials at the forefront of his practices, Mulier’s tenure at Alaïa demonstrates how certain design philosophies and modes of production can have a more sustainable model. Neither Mulier nor Maison Alaïa have marketed themselves as sustainable brands, yet both have been demonstrably successful in reputation and resistance to overproduction. This raises a bigger question: are we, as consumers, justified in setting a universal standard designers and fashion houses are required to operate under, when much of said standard could just come down to eco-messaging? Mulier did once say that he never makes something to please other people… (Interview Magazine).
I, for one, am excited to see what the future holds for the maison as it falls under new leadership, and if Richemont will recognise the importance of preparing for the future if they want Alaïa to continue lasting through time. I am equally as excited (although perhaps ‘sceptical’ is more accurate) to see what Mulier goes on to do at Versace – perhaps the antithesis of the refinement and quiet glamour that are the pillars of Alaïa.