Bourgeois? Moi?

The dress codes of the idle rich dominated the fall collections. But before you say “bourgeoisie,” here’s how to use it correctly in a sentence.

- Caroline Weber

It was inescapable. From the moment Hedi Slimane sent a pair of pleated culottes—and plaid culottes! Flannel culottes! Even leather culottes!—down his runway at Celine, through the grace notes of Karl Lagerfeld’s last show for Chanel, the spirit of the bourgeoisie dominated the fall collections in Paris, as if it were the French Revolution all over again. It turned up in the soigné dresses at Loewe; in the rich trenches at Balenciaga, with their cocooning shoulders; in the sharp tuxedos at Givenchy (designer Clare Waight-Keller is a favorite of the Duchess of Sussex, herself an emblem of middle-class ascendance); and, in its most sumptuous form, in a double-faced cashmere cocoon coat at Hermès, bien sûr.

About a year ago the designer Nicolas Ghesquière exalted ladylike “jolie madame” style in a collection for Louis Vuitton, and the message slowly trickled down to the mood boards of other designers until this season the discreet charm of the bourgeoisie gripped the imagination. There was safety, if not comfort, in these mature uniforms, at a time when political turmoil is not just an existential dread but is staring us right in the face: The Champs-Elysées overflowed with protesters marching against the “elitist” policies of President Emmanuel Macron, the flame of Gallic insurgency immediately recognizable by the yellow safety vests on the demonstrators’ backs.

Then again, this is France; rebellion and fashion have always gone hand in glove. Whereas Americans and the British generally understand bourgeois style to symbolize a specific sensibility—conservative, polite—for the French it’s a little bit more complicated, the word itself fraught with meaning.