The YSL catwalk: it's not just women's fashion that has a problem with extreme thinness

Male models at Hedi Slimane's show for Yves Saint Laurent looked ill, tired - and unhealthily skinny.

Hedi Slimane has always liked to use thin male models. At Dior Homme, his skinny silhouette is credited with moving the men's fashion industry as a whole to narrower cuts, and he inspired Chanel's Karl Lagerfeld to lose 90lb - on a regime of Diet Coke - to fit into his clothes.

But his show yesterday for Yves Saint Laurent at Paris fashion week was exceptional, even by his standards. This photo sums it up:

(Photo from Style.com)

While this model might be totally healthy, he doesn't look it. The skinniness of his thighs is also an extremely unrealistic shape for the vast majority of men to aspire to.

Here are a couple of the other models (photos from Getty)

Just how thin are these men? Well, a New York Times story about the increasing thinness of male models gave the vital statistics of Stas Svetlichnyy, as 6ft tall and 145lb (10st 5lb), with a 28-inch waist. And that's his "top weight", apparently. 

This being fashion, the reviews of the YSL show barely mentioned the extreme thinness of the models. The Washington Post observed that:

The styles were also very young, with slim pickings for older men.                    

. . .  which is a bit of an understatement, as I can't imagine many men over 30 have this body shape naturally. The influential fashion industry site Women's Wear Daily made reference to the models' shape very briefly, saying:

The first rocker out — pale and gaunt — pointed his Adam’s apple at the photographers and strode out in a lean tuxedo and black shirt, as cocky as Mick Jagger.

This is fetishising thinness, and the appearance of illness, as just another quirky aesthetic choice. And it's not healthy.

(hat-tip to @isaacjlock for the original picture)

The YSL 2013 F/W men's fashion show. Photo: Getty

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times