Alber Elbaz in China

The designer of luxe label Lanvin stops off in Beijing, and Betsy Lowther goes along for the ride

Published in Elle – Asia Pacific editions, September 2005

Alber Elbaz—the designer of the Paris fashion house Lanvin and, it could easily be argued, one of the most important designers in the fashion industry today—is ensconced in the backseat of a Beijing pedicab, the tricycle-style mode of transportation for visitors exploring the city's charming old neighborhoods.

It is a unique moment for both of us—me, dutifully pointing out the local sights while desperately hoping our driver doesn't plow into a pedestrian in the crowded street, and Elbaz, who is quite happy to just watch the city life whiz by: the barber giving haircuts in his makeshift sidewalk shop; the elderly men who have gathered to play cards in the neighborhood's dusty nooks; the patient fishermen trying to hook a catch in the city's central Houhai lake.

Elbaz leans out of the pedicab with his Polaroid instant camera and snaps a photo of the colorful landscape. The camera spits out a picture of the passing scene, but Elbaz tucks it into his oversized Goyard tote without even a glance. "I never look at photographs right away," he says, as the pedicab weaves (without incident, thankfully) down the busy lane. "I like to put them away and then look at them all together at the end of the day." By that evening, a collection of photos of Beijing life—a lush lotus pond, two grinning girls sharing a swing—will have accumulated in the bottom of his bag.

It's impossible not to enjoy seeing Beijing through Elbaz's eyes, just as it's impossible not to enjoy the man himself. The amiable designer was in China's capital this summer to plan his first fashion show in the city, which was held September 18 in the courtyard of the National Art Museum as the grand finale of The Year of France in China, a massive cultural exchange between the two countries. While his four-day romp through Beijing was jam-packed—posing for a magazine shoot here, scouting a venue there—Elbaz made sure he spent some time doing what he likes best: soaking in the local life.

"When I traveled in the past, I thought, 'I should go to a museum, I should go to a cathedral, I should see one important monument,'" says Elbaz over coffee and scraps of fashion show sketches in a quiet Beijing cafe. "Now, I realize that I can see those things in books and in postcards and on the Internet. What I want to see in a place like this is the people."

It's not surprising, because Elbaz—with his mop of dark curls, friendly demeanor, and genuine disposition—is a people kind of person. I'm hardly the first journalist to be smitten with the Israeli designer. A string of equally besotted writers from around the world have used a long list of approving adjectives to describe him: sweet, humble, kooky, earnest, charming, disarming, and—perhaps most fittingly—genius. They have penned equally adoring terms for his designs, which mix comfortable, feminine silhouettes (like this fall's double-breasted full coats) and unexpected touches (a bright velvet fabric, a frayed edge). Elbaz's styles have been worn up and down the red carpet by such style icons as Sarah Jessica Parker, Nicole Kidman and Kate Moss, and copied relentlessly by other companies. Even without knowing the Lanvin label, fashion followers can recognize the trends that are credited to Elbaz, including last year's ballet flat obsession and this year's chunky beaded necklace craze.

He might not be a well-known name (yet), but in style circles, Elbaz has already been lifted to luminary status. For starters, there's that impressive fan club. And earlier this year, the designer—who has helmed the Lanvin line since 2001—was awarded the prestigious International Award from the Council of Fashion Designers of America (CFDA), immediately recognizing him as a peer of such past awardees as Miuccia Prada and Calvin Klein. But what really makes Elbaz's designs so special is how much he simply loves what he does—and that joyful, careful creativity translates into every jewel-toned coat and voluminous skirt that comes out of his studio.

"I have realized that the most important thing is for me to just enjoy my work," he says. "Because when you're really enjoying what you do, it doesn't end there. You project it out. I think when you're mad, you create mad, and when you're mean, you create mean. But when you're happy, you create happy. And I think people today are looking for things that are positive."

It's a remarkably upbeat approach for someone who claims to be a die-hard pessimist. ("I'm not optimistic at all!" he protests when presented with the idea. "I'm always thinking that whatever I do is wrong, that I'm not good enough, that I look horrible, that I do horrible things. It's what drives me.") Still, there's no doubt that what sets Elbaz apart is that, in an industry where many people are obsessed with projecting a perfect image, he's not afraid to have a little fun.

And Elbaz, it is sure, is having some fun during his trip to Beijing. The designer is not interested in seeing the city from behind the cool glass window of a chauffeured car. Instead, he's riding in pedicabs, dining at local restaurants, even savoring a sugary orange-lemon popsicle from a street vendor. Later, in the middle of a photo shoot in Beijing's famous Forbidden City, Elbaz suddenly drops onto his stomach in the middle of a vast cobblestone courtyard. A small crowd—the several photographers capturing the moment, as well as assistants, a makeup artist, a hairstylist, a couple of fashion editors, and more than a few gawping tourists—gather around as Elbaz gets comfy on the ground. He calls to one of the models, who totters over in a stunning red Lanvin dress with a pouf of a skirt and sky-high velvet heels. At his instruction, she places one supple shoe on Elbaz's back and lightly bears down. "Not too hard!" he jokingly yelps, eliciting a laugh from the group (even the slightly bewildered tourists). Clearly, this is a man who isn't afraid to get down and dirty—quite literally—for the sake of creativity.

"I like to do things myself," he admits. "I once saw a show on television where a chef was showing how to cook something. He took a lemon and squeeeeezed it"—he gives a passionate pantomime—"with his fingers to get out all the juice. And someone asked him, 'Why do you do that? Why don't you just use a machine?' He replied, 'Because when I squeeze it with my hand, part of the taste then also comes from my skin. And the food will taste like me.' That's how I feel about my work."

It's that get-your-hands-dirty approach that has guided Elbaz throughout his career. ("Design is a ongoing process," he says. "You can't just sketch an idea and fax it in from the Bahamas and then go sit in the sun.") It helped propel him from an unknown fashion school in his native Israel to New York City, where he worked under legendary American designer Geoffrey Beene for seven years. He was then hired to design Paris label Guy Laroche before being picked to take over Yves Saint Laurent's ready-to-wear line from the iconic designer himself. That job lasted just three seasons, when the YSL label was bought by Gucci Group in 1999 and their then-creative director Tom Ford took over the brand.

It might have seen like a dark moment at the time—Elbaz spent a year after his departure from YSL taking a break from the industry and traveling the world—but there is, we now know, a very happy ending to the story. Elbaz soon ended up at Lanvin, a longtime Paris label that had its heyday in the early 1900s under its founder, French fashion icon Jeanne Lanvin. He quickly transformed the brand from a flagging design house to the favored label of fashion's very best dressed. Though the buzz around the brand had steadily been building, Lanvin moved firmly to the forefront this spring, when Elbaz—who's earned rave reviews year after year for his collections—scooped up the covetable CFDA prize. The icing on a year full of cake included American ingenue Natalie Portman's February turn on the Academy Awards red carpet in a Grecian-style Lanvin gown, which boosted her onto many best-dressed lists.

But while this has certainly been a rosy time for Elbaz, there's nothing he hates more than being toasted as the designer of the moment. "I'm not into 'the moment'," he says with distaste. "I don't like being in the restaurant of the moment. I have a problem with Miss America, because she's the girl of the moment. I'm not a person of the moment—I've worked for many years and didn't do it for a moment. I'm not an athlete that trained to run 8 minutes in the Olympics. I'm just a working man. This is my job."

In that sense, he carries a knowing sympathy for China, which has snared the world's attention as—for lack of a better term—the place of the moment, especially within the fashion industry. Many foreign companies, from big-name fashion brands to discount retailers, have started flooding into the country in hopes of wooing the increasingly wealthy Chinese. Elbaz worries that all this attention could ruin the country's charm. "Many people are coming here and saying, 'Let's conquer China; let's build towers and stores and more stores—the bigger, the better,'" he says, with a touch of disappointment. "I don't think, 'The bigger, the better.' I think there is a beautiful element in small."

The allure of China right now, he says, shouldn't be about possible profits or rampant development. Instead, Elbaz thinks the country's real appeal is in the sheer excitement the Chinese have for the new and creative. "In many other places in the world, there's a formula about how to do things: what's right, what's wrong, how to be a millionaire in one year, how to catch a rich husband in one month, how to lose weight in ten days," he says. "People are on a mission all the time. But the beauty of China is the fact that there is no formula here. People are hungry; they want to learn and try new things. That's the excitement."

For now, both Elbaz and China are going to have to put up with their respective roles under the spotlight. It comes with the success, though Elbaz is the first to say he doesn't feel successful—nor does he ever want to. "It's like when you wake up and it's your birthday and everybody's celebrating," he says. "But for most people I know—myself included—the day of your birthday is really one of the most difficult days of the year.

"It's a time where you question yourself: who you are, what you've done, what you achieved, what you didn't achieve… It's a very strange day. And success feels like a birthday to me. I think it would be very dangerous if I ever saw myself as a big shot, because the moment you stop questioning yourself is like being an actor who doesn't get scared anymore to go on stage." He pauses. "I think that fear is the great source of electricity in our lives." That may be true, but any woman who knows the sheer joy of slipping on a Lanvin dress would say Elbaz's fashions are a great source of electricity too.