A Shaded View

Diane Pernet on Pioneering Blogging, Fashion Film Festivals, and Talent Discovery—In Her Own Terms

Diane Pernet doesn't just observe fashion—she shapes it, one idea at a time. Long before Instagram influencers or TikTok critics, Pernet launched the world's first fashion blog in 2005, transforming how the industry communicated with itself and the world.

From her early days as an independent designer in AIDS-era New York to founding ASVOFF, fashion's premier film festival, Pernet possesses an uncanny ability to consistently spot talent years before the rest of the world catches on. Her roster of early discoveries reads like a who's who of today's fashion avant-garde: Demna, Anthony Vaccarello, Mathieu Blazy, Glenn Martens.

Now, speaking from her Paris base in her signature all-black uniform, Pernet reflects on three decades of breaking rules, building communities, and why she wouldn't mind making some money before she dies.

Not very many know that you started as a fashion designer. I also saw the video of your collection.

Yes, there's one. Oh, you saw it?

Yeah, I did!

Before I left New York, a friend and I—back when people still had VCRs, so more than three decades ago—we were probably smoking joints. The show was on a VHS tape, and it had faded significantly. For example, something that was tomato red now looks coral.

Can you tell me a little bit about that period?

I had my brand in New York, with a license in Tokyo for five of the 13 years it ran. I kind of grew up in public. My degree is in film, and I only went to fashion school for nine months—both Parsons and FIT at the same time—just to learn things like pattern making and draping. My process was draping then having my pattern maker do the rest. Unlike someone like Rick Owens or Azzedine who could do it all.

What made you leave New York?

Starting around 1987, I lived in the West Village, a very gay neighborhood. No exaggeration, 80–90% of my neighborhood was dead or dying because of AIDS. Then the crack hit, and the streets got bad. There were rats the size of small dogs, crime was epic, and so many people were homeless or dying. I just didn’t want to be there anymore. But I had people depending on me, so it took me until the end of 1990 to move, still without a plan.

And then, Paris?

I thought, if I wanted to stay in fashion, I could go to London, Milan, or Paris. London didn’t feel exotic to an Anglo-Saxon like me, though it would’ve been easier. Milan—I love Italy, I love Italians—but it felt too small. Paris was the center of fashion, and I knew one person here. So I moved. The first three years were torture, though. But I was determined to stay. In Paris, you’ll never starve—people always invite you to dinner. You're kind of a fashion accessory. But no French person is going to help you get work. They guard their territory.

I’ve heard that from others, too.

It’s a kind of gatekeeping. Here, once you get a job and pass your three-month trial, you have to kill someone to get fired. So positions are very protected. It's not like in New York, where you're only as good as your last success. There was even a company called “What Have You Done for Me Lately”—so American. But in New York, people were more helpful. I still try to be like that. I promote others because it brings me joy.

That brings me to the ASVOFF festival. It was such a pioneering idea when you started. What was the seed that led to it?

I studied film and always loved both fashion and film. As a kid, I collected movie magazines—it was a fantasy. My first job in Paris, which I got while still in New York, was to be the costume designer for a film by Amos Gitai, Golem, the Spirit of Exile.Vittorio Mezzogiorno played the character Le Maharal, and Hanna Schygulla portrayed L’Esprit de l’Exil.I was fascinated by the fact that she had worked with Fassbinder, one of my favorite directors

So I moved to Paris for this job, without a contract.In fact thought I had a job, but when I arrived, there was already someone there with sketches doing my work. Gitai said, “Come back Monday with your ideas,” but it was for costumes ranging from 300 BC to modern day. Completely unrealistic! I later found out I was the sixth costume designer—they all quit because he was unbearable. I ended up redoing the beginning and end of the film for Hanna and Valeria Golino.

That’s a great story.

The director was afraid of me because I was a designer. But costume design is about building a character; it’s not “Here’s the bag.” That planted the seed in me. I wanted to do something to show that fashion supports film and vice versa. Still, it took me until 2005 to launch the festival.

And that’s when you started blogging, too?

February 2005. It was the first fashion blog. I had worked for Elle and Vogue.fr, but they only covered advertisers. I wanted to spotlight people I found interesting. A model, Anina, invited me to do a “moblog” with a Nokia prototype—it was like a blue brick. Very beta. I uploaded a road movie I made for Eley Kishimoto's menswear launch from Trafalgar Square to Monte Carlo—a gumball rally of 3,000 miles in six days. It was insane.

I sent the 18-minute road movie to one of my writers in LA. He said, “Want to screen it?” I said yes, but didn’t want it to be just my film. So I added films from Nick Knight’s SHOWstudio—like Bridegroom Stripped Bare with Alexander McQueen—and others. That was the start. It was called You Wear It Well, named after the Rod Stewart song. I handled 12 countries while my LA collaborator barely managed two cities.

Do you sometimes experience that people feel intimidated by you because of your signature all black outfit?

Clothes are armor. I probably look intimidating—black clothes, dark glasses—but I’m very open and supportive, especially of young talent. I was an independent designer for 13 years and know how hard it is.

And you’ve supported many before they became big names.

Yes, people like Demna, Anthony Vaccarello (who won at Festival of Hyères in 2006), Mathieu Blazy, and Glenn Martens. I spot them early, often while they’re still students. I’m not a headhunter, though. I support them because it’s who I am. But yes—I wouldn’t mind making some money before I die!

What are the challenges young designers face today?

It’s tough if you're not with LVMH, Kering, Richemont, or OTB. Still, social media offer new opportunities to build communities. Back then, calling Tokyo was a big deal. Now it’s normal. So if you design because you love it and want to express something, you can build from that. But if your goal is stardom, it’s a different path.

Schools now seem to push students to join teams rather than launch their own brands.

Some work behind the scenes for years before emerging, like Mathieu Blazy or Alessandro Michele. It’s probably smart to make mistakes at someone else’s expense before launching your brand. Or start small, like Azzedine Alaia. He did everything his way—shows, seasons—he broke the rules. Same with Rick Owens. Many creative directors today just say, “Make it green.” They’re not makers. Rick once said, “You’re not a designer if you’re not a maker.” I agree.

I recently interviewed Tyrone Dylan- he’s involved in the design process too.

I remember when he and Rick got together—maybe seven years ago? I even remember Michelle’s name in the WWD spreads by Bill Cunningham.Michele was crucial to Rick’s early success—he began as her pattern maker before she closed her own business to help build his, and she has remained a key force in his work ever since. While the collections have grown sexier since Tyrone entered the brand, the sculptural DNA that defined Rick’s aesthetic from the start remains intact.

You were a pioneer in online fashion criticism. How do you perceive fashion commentary today with social media and TikTok?

Aside from Ly.as, and I Deserve Couture, I like Tuba Avalon and chez.amelie aka Amelie Stanescu.HauteLeMode is always funny. Loïc Prigent has been around forever, but still does a good job as well as Fashion Roadman. But often, once people start receiving invites or brand deals, their opinions tend to soften. Only a few manage to stay truly honest—Eugene Rabkin, Philippe Pourhashemi, and Cathy Horyn come to mind.

You can count them on one hand.

Exactly. It’s not a great sign, but it’s the truth.