For nearly six decades, Jean-Charles de Castelbajac has defied easy definition, both on the runway and off. A proto-multi-hyphenate, he’s newly familiar to a younger generation for iconic pieces like the teddy bear coat (from fall 1988) sported by Drake a few years back. That, plus riffs on cartoons, pop culture, and fashion royalty—Superman, Snoopy, Andy Warhol, Marilyn Monroe, Lady Di, President Obama, Coco Chanel, Vivienne Westwood, and Sonia Rykiel are all here—converged last night in Toulouse in a preview followed by a private dinner celebrating Castelbajac’s first major “explosition.”

“Imagination au Pouvoir” (“Imagination at Work”) is the headliner at Les Abattoirs, a former slaughterhouse now converted into one of France’s leading contemporary art museums, for an eight-month run. In addition to showcasing the designer’s best-known creations, it includes original works made by and with a constellation of boldfaced artists (Haring, Mapplethorpe, Basquiat). It also has a spiritual dimension, notably in the colorful vestments made for World Youth Day in 1985 and those designed for the reopening of Notre-Dame Cathedral, offering a kaleidoscopic take on the designer’s career and, in retrospect, his foresight.

Just don’t call it a retrospective. “Those are for the past,” he quipped. “I love things that are understood in the future.” Staged by the 76-year-old designer in collaboration with curator Pascal Rodriguez, the exhibition features some 300 pieces, from early experiments in upcycling, streetwear, and high-performance sportswear to art, social commentary, and politics.

The museum chose Castelbajac, whose family tree has been rooted in this region for a millennium, for its first-ever fashion exhibition in part because he refuses to be pigeonholed, said Lauriane Gricourt, director of Les Abbatoirs.

“He’s an artist who hasn’t benefitted from enough visibility, be it in fashion or art,” she told Vogue. “People tend to know him for a specific item, without having a grasp of the whole, which is quite singular and very rich. His work is rather astonishing, and his reflections are expressed through a non-traditional medium, which is fashion. What’s really interesting is to have the discourse of an art historian filtered through a fashion designer.”

Even fashion lovers may know that, from the time he was old enough to build chateaux out of whatever was at hand, Castelbajac found in creativity a refuge from a far more challenging childhood than his aristocratic name might suggest. At 17, with the help of his seamstress mother, he began making “wearable houses” out of humble materials, like a blanket filched from military boarding school, mop rags, or medical gauze. By the mid-1970s, he was immersed in the New York art scene, a chapter that informed his collections for decades to follow.

In the run-up to opening night, Castelbajac spoke about his life in art, fashion, and culture writ large—and how Farrah Fawcett’s Vogue cover changed his life.

Jean-Charles de Castelbajac and the vestments designed for the reopening of the Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris, 2024 © Philippe GarciaPhoto: © Philippe Garcia, Courtesy of Jean-Charles de Castelbajac and Les Abattoirs

This exhibition is about more than fashion, the runway and celebrity fans: it touches on early hardship, your friendships with artists and musicians, and social commentary spanning half a century. Where did you even start?

JCC: That’s why the exhibition is powerful: it’s already a work unto itself. Giving me carte blanche was a bold move. Les Abattoirs made it possible to break down barriers and create a sort of immersive installation. It’s a panorama of my life. It opens with a strong, almost Situationist gesture, with clothes I made using everyday materials. That was in 1971, and I was immediately discovered by the journalist Eugenia Sheppard and Bendel’s in New York.

You’ve said that nothing predestined you for a fashion career. On my father’s side, I come from a military and aristocratic family. My mother had a dressmaking atelier in Limoges. Traditionally, they didn’t want me to pursue this kind of profession. But I was truly kidnapped by fashion—or you might call it ‘anti-fashion’ because without even realizing it I’d used these very transgressive, Arte Povera materials, which immediately landed me in contemporary art circles.

Do you consider yourself more a designer or an artist? I’m both. For a long time, I had several dualities—between my very traditional family roots and punk, between art and fashion. I’ve always loved both, and I think that’s why I’m living in a state of grace today, because I’ve made this duality into one thing. I’m a designer because I’ve always been obsessed [by fashion]. It made my success in the US. When I did [clothes for] Charlie’s Angels with Farrah Fawcett, it was the design side, the function that should never bow to ornamentation. [The fashion journalist] Eugenia Sheppard wrote that I was an architect because I made my hoods like roofs, my pockets [like] rooms, and the openings [like] doors. That’s really me: I’m a high-level hacker at heart.

So: you were kidnapped by fashion and subverted it in return? Exactly. I’d say a designer answers questions, and an artist asks questions. When I made that [teddy bear] coat in 1987, people said, “What is this? Is it a coat? Is it a sculpture?” That’s why we did a room called “Clothing-Sculptures.” When I put Jackie Kennedy’s face on a dress with a black veil evoking mourning—that’s not fashion anymore. It’s a question. It elicits emotion. When I put President Obama on a sequined dress four months before his election, that’s not fashion. I even received threats. There are only two of those in the world. One’s here; the other is Michelle’s.

“Be Pop My Lula” fashion show, fall 2009Photo: © Guy Marineau // Fusano

“Elektrocute” fashion show, Autumn-Winter2007-2008Photo: © Guy Marineau

You’re avoiding calling this a retrospective, why? My favorite perfume is L’Air du Temps. This is not a work of memory; it’s something that’s in motion. You see the beginning and where I am today, whether it’s my work with Notre Dame or with Palace Skateboard. Maybe that’s my secret of longevity.

For those less familiar with your work, how would you describe it? Like a cat, I’ve had several lives. In France, some people know my art, others know my design, others know my fashion. It’s been this archipelago of creativity. If we take it decade by decade, the 1970s are when I explored materials and function, like with the military school blanket jacket. It was like an ex-voto. My mother had the courage to believe in what I was doing, so I decided to make protective garments. That was my chivalrous side. Then, after Farrah Fawcett appeared on the cover of Vogue wearing a shirt of mine in very light cotton voile with a wing collar, I [went on to do] more than 20 series with Charlie’s Angels. I think that was a turning point in fashion. We stayed friends to the end.

Is it different working with celebrities today? Lady Gaga, whom I love very much, and I have worked on many projects, among them “Telephone” and the Kermit coat. Katy Perry has often worn my clothes, like the Man Ray dress. And Rosalía also really embodies the convergence of art, image, fashion, and also the message. There’s a message of hope. Her message is very universal, and I’m very interested in putting my talent at the service of the universal. Like with Notre-Dame.

We haven’t even hit the ’80s yet. The 1980s were key because I practiced both art and fashion. I invited Robert Mapplethorpe to do my photos, Peter Hujar, Cindy Sherman, all these people who are almost paradoxical to me. I wanted to give my work an even more experimental dimension. When I made my cartoon sweaters [for Iceberg] they came to define the hip-hop generation. People may not know me, but they know those sweaters. Jay-Z started wearing my clothes. This whole generation appropriated my cartoon sweaters, for which I hadn’t even paid copyright because it didn’t exist then. And now it’s part of the collective memory. Those were also the years of accumulation. The show puts all that in historical context. And then there was the meeting with Saint John Paul II, then the Pope, which let me serve my faith through my work. That changed everything because suddenly I’m no longer in a small niche of experimental fashion. It opened my field of creation to the universe, dressing one million young people, 500 bishops, and the Pope for World Youth Day. So, it’s no longer about the garment—it’s about material serving the immaterial.

Would you call fashion a religion? We need spirituality here, now. But as to fashion as a religion, no. I’d say it’s more of a monarchy, or several monarchies, with palaces, rituals, and courtiers. There’s more to it. It also sort of resembles a cult.

Is that a good thing, or just the way it is? I believe the world is moving toward this dimension of universal analogies. Where things fall into place and become a greater whole. I think what I did was sort of an icebreaker for indiscipline, creating porosity between creative disciplines. Today, fashion shows are performances. Window displays are installations. Some images that are produced are truly works of art. There’s no longer a separation. And now, within this greater whole, there’s a dimension of responsibility in fashion. That, and spreading good vibes, is what interests me.

“Rainbow” moccasins, Jean-Charles de Castelbajac for WestonPhoto: © DR

You’ve always collaborated with other brands, sometimes for decades. How did you choose among those? That was hard. We’re presenting sort of a living anthology. The Hudson Bay blanket coat I sold at Saks Fifth Avenue in 1976 is still perfect today. I’ve worked with the ski brand Rossignol for 23 years. With the English brand Palace Skateboard for 10. I wanted to show young generations that one must build a style. When I spent two seasons working with André Courrèges, he said: “We’re alike: we don’t make fashion, we practice style.” And style is essential. It’s the definition of how we live. Mine is an imprint of cuts, color, and emotion. I’ve always wanted to be immersive. I’ve always had this obsession of taking things from the wall—or from the bed—to make a coat, or a painting to make a dress.

How do you see the current fashion landscape? Personally, I’ve never been so busy. Where I used to anticipate or be out of trend, today I feel like I’ve arrived. I no longer have the shadow of a doubt, but I still perpetually question myself. I find the emerging creative generation very talented. They’re world-builders. Right now, I’m watching expressions of democratic beauty, like Zac Posen’s work at Gap, and JW Anderson at Uniqlo and Dior. I think there’s an awakening to the fact that beauty is social cement; fashion must be used as social cement. It’s no longer for just a few. That’s been my life’s quest: at Benetton, I spent more time fitting a t-shirt than I would have an evening gown.

What’s the secret to staying relevant? It’s very simple: it’s about remaining a big fan. Having a child’s gaze. Being amazed by others’ talent. Still being astonished by the world’s beauty. Seeing your work live through others, like when Drake wore that coat. I was very moved. Lately, I’ve discovered collaging. I draw with my left hand but cut with my right. It’s my way of reconciling fashion and art. I want to continue my life as a designer and an artist. And break the rules.

Jean-Charles de Castelbajac: Imagination at Work will run at Les Abattoirs in Toulouse through August 23, 2026. lesabattoirs.org

Fashion sketch © Jean-Charles de Castelbajac

Drake attends a game between the Brooklyn Nets and Toronto Raptors in 2022.

Mark Blinch/Getty Images