At Paris Couture Week in July, all eyes were on legacy houses Balenciaga and Jean Paul Gaultier as they presented their first made-to-measure collections under new designers. 

But when France’s top fashion editors gathered for dinner a week before the shows, the hot topic of conversation was a small London-based house that was also gearing up to make its Paris entrance.

Michael Stewart, the founder and creative director of Standing Ground, came onto the radar of tastemakers when he won the inaugural Savoir-Faire Prize at the 2024 edition of the LVMH Prize for Young Designers, the competition that launched the careers of designers like Simon Porte Jacquemus and Marine Serre.

His sculptural use of draping, technical mastery and reluctance to bow to traditional show schedules drew comparisons with Azzedine Alaïa, earmarking Stewart as a talent to watch. Now the Irish designer was preparing for a David versus Goliath challenge in the home of haute couture — and local critics were there for it.

“I genuinely feel very welcomed by Paris,” Stewart told WWD in a gilded reception room of the Irish embassy, a stone’s throw from the Arc de Triomphe, as he put the finishing touches to his collection the day before the show.

“Having this audience and the stamp of haute couture, which I would never have dared say before now, is really special and it means a lot to me, because it’s what I’ve been working toward,” he added. “It was definitely the goal from the beginning.”

Operating on the fringes of the fashion industry, the Royal College of Art graduate doesn’t sell in stores and personally finishes each piece to his exacting standards.

Since launching in 2022, he’s grown Standing Ground like an old-fashioned couture house, crafting custom outfits for an exclusive coterie of affluent women and dressing celebrities like Beyoncé Knowles-Carter, Tilda Swinton and Florence Pugh. 

With anticipation running high ahead of his French debut, Stewart was having to make some tough calls, as he had only 150 seats to fill. “I can’t accommodate everyone who’s wanted to come,” he said.

Those who made the cut were a mix of influential industry figures, led by Anna Wintour, and private clients. The event was notably celebrity-free: Stewart would rather devote his budget to the clothes. 

Pride of Ireland

At a time when the term “haute couture” is used loosely, he has the utmost respect not just for the French government-regulated label, but for the process itself. His list of design heroes ranges from legendary couturiers like Christian Dior, Charles James, Madame Grès and Alaïa, to contemporary designers such as Rick Owens. 

“I respect designers who are technical people,” he said. “They can command a fitting. It’s funny, I’ve done consultancies [where] I’ve seen people inept. They don’t know what to do with their hands, they don’t know what’s going on. I’m like, ‘You clearly don’t have a clue.’”  

Known for body-conscious creations with a sci-fi bent, Stewart has a laser-like eye for detail. As his stylist and confidant Tallulah Harlech looked on, he excused himself several times to pin the waist of a beaded column skirt or fix the hem of a dress. 

“It’s a journey. I’m already looking at things and going, ‘Oh god, why don’t I have another couple weeks to redo that?’ But that’s how you should be. You should feel somewhat frustrated,” he said. “It’s obsessive, torturous, but I think it’s going to be really lovely.”

Stewart was particularly proud of his bridal gown, worn by veteran model Kristen McMenamy. Made of Carrickmacross lace from Ireland, it took nine months for a team of women, aged 21 to 95, to complete the motif incorporating blackberry thorns and dragonflies — representing his most labor-intensive endeavor to date. 

“When I decided I was going to show couture, I wanted to choose something that represented the craft of Ireland, and essentially something that’s almost a dying craft,” he said. “It deserves to be seen at haute couture, because it’s haute couture level.” 

The project was supported by Design & Crafts Council Ireland, The Heritage Council and Tourism Ireland, who have corralled around the designer for the opportunity to shine a light on practitioners of traditional skills like needlecraft. 

“They’re people who have kept the work alive, but not getting what I feel is the recognition it deserves. Ireland does not have a craft culture that permeates life, like some areas in the world, so the value can be a little bit lost,” he lamented. 

Despite his almost ascetic devotion to his work, Stewart is fun to be around, which might explain why industry figures like Michel Gaubert, who has created Chanel’s soundtracks for three decades, lined up to be part of his Paris debut. 

The towering designer, whose flowing red beard seems plucked straight out of Celtic mythology, is refreshingly candid, and punctures his saltier statements with a booming laugh. 

With just 24 hours to go, he was still busy pulling in favors to make up for his shoestring budget. “I emailed Rick Owens this morning, and he’s giving me mannequins for the showroom, for instance,” he said. 

“The pieces are not shoestring, because I spent all the money on those. That’s the way it should be. Don’t spend it on everything else and show some shitty collection. Do a great collection, and then squeeze everything else,” he reasoned.

Ancient and Futuristic

Stewart is proud to say he lavished his 200,000-euro LVMH Prize money — and then some — on perfecting his designs. “The past year-and-a-half, almost two years, have been a study in cut and form, and my technique, and pushing it forward,” he said. 

His Paris collection showcased several new directions. He used his signature covered beading to outline tailored looks, like a solemn pearl gray capelet-back coat, but also played with exposed beads, tracing lines of rock crystals or synthetic rubies down sinuous black velvet column gowns, in tune with his anti-bling approach.

Many looks were anchored by aerodynamic molded corsets, developed with input from expert Mr. Pearl. The brand’s name and his pared-back, statuesque designs are directly inspired by Ireland’s prehistoric standing stones.

“There’s a cross-current of ancient and futuristic, and that’s how I end up with my present aesthetic,” Stewart said. “I love the idea of reimagining what that Irish aesthetic could be.”

As part of his mentorship, Delphine Arnault, the force behind the LVMH Prize, gave him a 50,000-euro grant to work with embroiderer Maison Vermont. The result, a corset studded with black opal beads in what he dubbed a “cosmic crocodile” motif, was a showstopper — but don’t expect to see it on a red carpet anytime soon. 

Stewart has become increasingly reluctant to loan out his creations to magazines and celebrity stylists, who he feels are oblivious to the limitations faced by independent designers. 

“Red carpet dressing is lovely for emerging brands, but the world is built on big brands that have consistently provided this service for A-listers and celebrities in terms of making things for free, because they have a certain budget for that and it works for them. But I’m expected to do what Dior does, essentially, and obviously that’s not possible,” he explained.

Stewart’s critically acclaimed debut has inevitably ignited speculation about whether he could step up as creative director at a big-name house. The designer is open to the idea, confident that his fluency in eveningwear would translate well into daywear — though he emphasized that his Paris show was not a job application.

“Everything’s an audition, but I haven’t made it to be an audition. I’ve done it because it’s what I believe in,” he insisted. “Even if nothing happened, I would still be doing this for my own enjoyment.” 

Still, he can’t help dreaming of an even bigger stage for his talent. “I mean, can you imagine what I could do if I had a budget? I could do anything,” he said with a smile.