At a small table in Café de Mars in Paris, Diane Pernet’s silhouette stood out against the café’s familiar charm, exuding an unmistakable aura that merges mystery with a deep reverence for fashion’s past. Once a designer herself, Pernet has always seen fashion not just as a statement but as a story—a fleeting moment to be preserved. Her journey took her from New York to Paris, from making clothes to shaping conversations, as she launched A Shaded View on Fashion Film (ASVOFF), the world’s first festival dedicated to fashion film.
Each transition has only deepened her commitment to capturing fashion’s fleeting yet meaningful nature. Her thoughtful answers seemed to guide us further into a world where fashion exists as a delicate balance between art and experience. In an industry defined by impermanence, her voice brings a rare sense of purpose—a dedication to preserving stories that might otherwise fade.
FORM: Who are you, where are you from.
DIANE: I’m Diane Pernet, founder of ASVOFF, the first fashion film festival in the world. The inaugural edition was in 2006 in Los Angeles, and since then, we’ve traveled around the globe. I also created the first fashion blog in February 2005—now there are thousands of them. As for film festivals, I imagine there are thousands of those now too. Prior to that, I was a fashion designer with my own brand for 13 years. When I moved to Paris at the end of 1990, I worked in costume design, journalism, and as a fashion editor for Joyce Ma, who owns a store in Hong Kong called JOYCE. She’s known for bringing Italian designers like Armani, Missoni, and Margiela to China—names you’re likely familiar with.
FORM: How does your background and upbringing shape your identity and career path?
DIANE: I studied film in university, I did reportage photography, I did fashion and I’ve always been curious, I travel a lot. Every experience you have shapes your life.
FORM: Your work has always been deeply personal and reflective. How has your personal philosophy shaped the way you write about fashion and the stories you choose to tell?
DIANE: I do everything by instinct. As a journalist, I approach fashion collections differently from a traditional journalist. Since I was a fashion designer with my own brand for 13 years, I understand the process. Sometimes people see a brand with significant resources and think, “You have all that, and that’s what you create?” I used to work for Elle.com and VOGUE.fr, covering shows. If I see something that’s really bad, I’m not one to be harsh; I’d rather not report on it and let that speak for itself. I know that negative, sensational commentary sells, but that’s not my approach. People spend six months working on a collection, and many people are involved, so that style of critique isn’t for me. I also don’t view collections as things I’d personally want to wear—that would be too narrow. That’s why I can appreciate such a wide range of styles. I’m not looking to shop when I look at a collection, but some journalists are.
FORM: Before establishing yourself as a fashion journalist, you had your own brand which you’ve mentioned. What made you decide to shift your focus now towards journalism platforms rather than continuing to develop your brand?
DIANE: I left New York because, from 1987 to 1990, it felt like Blade Runner in the worst way. In my neighborhood, 85–90% of people were either dead or dying from illness. Crime was rampant, and as a designer, it wasn’t exactly inspiring to see human feces at your door. I was in the West Village, which was always nice; it wasn’t as raw as the East Village at the time. I’d design a collection, leave for three weeks to clear my head and get inspired, then return to create another collection.
Eventually, I thought, “I’m living to leave. I should just leave.” But with a business and people depending on me, it took three or four years to make that decision. I had no plan, no strategy—I just knew I couldn’t live like that. You’d take a taxi and have the driver wait at your door because the crime was so intense. Nothing ever happened to me, but the police were useless and afraid, doing nothing. Instead, we relied on a vigilante group called “The Guardian Angels” to help with robberies or assaults. No one took the metro because you might not come back up. As a designer, the endless crime and loss from AIDS were overwhelming. I eventually decided I valued my life more, so I left.
I never officially closed my business; I just abandoned it. (Laughs) My last job in New York involved a Japanese woman who brought together three designers—Isabel Toledo, Virginia Estrada, and me—to create a lingerie collection with Dream Studio. We were taking over from the main designer, Angel Estrada, who had died of AIDS. But the Japanese woman’s husband was involved with the Yakuza and had gone into hiding, so all the funding stopped, which was unfortunate.
After that, I did some costume designing, which wasn’t as fulfilling because designing your own collection is different from working with directors, small budgets, and tight constraints. Then I worked at CBC as an assistant producer. Although I was overqualified, I needed to pay rent, so I didn’t mind. Later, I joined Elle.com, even though journalism wasn’t my plan. I only took one journalism course in university; my major was filmmaking. That’s why creating a film festival brings together the two passions of my life, fashion and film, like a complete circle. And that’s what I’ve been doing since my first festival in 2006.
Diane has seen fashion transform from an artful pursuit to a high-stakes game of profit, hype, and disposability. In her view, today’s industry rushes young designers toward stardom, only to discard them just as quickly. With a commitment to authenticity, she remains unmoved by trends and resists the influencer-driven culture, preferring to carve her own path. Her journey, from designer to film festival pioneer, reflects an unwavering dedication to creativity on her own terms—a signature, as she puts it, that remains unaltered.
FORM: That was a year after you started the blog. What made you officially start the blog?
DIANE: I worked for Elle and Vogue, where you can only report on advertisers. That was fine, but I wanted to cover people who were interesting, regardless of budget.
FORM: Why did you name it “A Shaded View on Fashion”?
DIANE: I wear shades and it’s my point of view.
FORM: How did you dream that “A Shaded View of Fashion” would unfold? Did you have any vision of where you thought it would go when you started? Or was it purely based on the motivation that you previously expressed?
DIANE: When I was working as a costume designer, my first job was with Amos Gitai. He’s fairly well known but quite arrogant, and it turned out to be a horrible experience. He knew I was a fashion designer when he hired me in New York to work with him in Paris, but he became very nervous that I was going to make the fashion too... I don’t know what his problem was. As a costume designer, your job is to bring a character to life, and it’s a subtle process.
It’s not just about handing over a shirt or a bag; it’s about considering the character and how their clothing conveys their personality and role in the film. He was so afraid of me being the first costume designer on the film that I ended up being the sixth. All the other costume designers were fired in between, so when it came to me, I had to recreate the beginning and the end of the film for the two main characters. I wanted to show how film supports fashion and how fashion supports film. So even though it was a bad experience, I met some great people. There weren’t many fashion films at the time, and it’s not like they never existed in the '70s—those Calvin Klein ads were pretty great. But as a genre, it didn’t really exist. It took a while to gather enough material to create a festival.
FORM: A Shaded View of Fashion has been a key platform for showcasing Avant-garde talent. Has the evolution of digital archiving influenced the way you approached curating content for the blog and for the film festival in terms of what you feel worthy of preserving?
DIANE: I don’t really think like that. I mean, I’m not much of an archivist. I love films by both emerging talents and established filmmakers, but archiving doesn’t hold much meaning for me. I have a deep appreciation for film; I’ve loved it since I was a kid, going to drive-ins with my parents to see Walt Disney movies. Film has always been part of my life. For me, it’s more about my experiences and the people I respect than digging through archives. My life has been an archive in itself.
FORM: As someone who was among the first to embrace fashion journalism in the digital age, how do you feel about the concept of impermanence in fashion? Particularly in the fast-paced world of online content.
DIANE: Things have changed so much. Fashion itself has evolved; what once focused on creativity is now just about billions of dollars. It’s about influencers, stifling designers' growth, and press building up young designers too quickly, leaving them unable to keep up with the hype and then fading away. Fashion has always been fast-paced; it’s an industry designed to make things go out of style. Trends have never interested me, even when I was a designer. I’m a pioneer, carving my own path. I don’t care what others are doing. I’ve seen so much as a journalist, covering thousands of shows, so I often give my invitations to my writers. It’s good for them. Fashion has changed, and now influencers and creative directors act more like DJs, doing mashups. If people don’t appreciate Sabato at Gucci, how long is he going to last? They put him under immense pressure, and if he doesn’t secure the financing they want in two seasons, he’ll be out. That leaves no room to grow. Look at someone like Alessandro Michele, who made billions at Gucci. On his 50th birthday, they called and fired him because they wanted him to change his signature style. You can’t change a signature! Your signature is your signature.
FORM: Have you seen that video of Yohji Yamamoto? He spoke at Oxford and they asked him ‘what designer inspires you’ and he said ‘It used to be Alexander McQueen, but then he died, so now there’s nobody’. It’s a great video.
DIANE: Yes, but it’s true. McQueen had a really strong voice, and when I was looking—I didn’t attend his first shows in London, but I attended all of them in Paris—and then he left. But he was someone who designed from the gut. A designer should have their own universe, something authentic to them. And if they’re just a commercial designer, there’s nothing wrong with that.
FORM: But it’s a separate thing.
DIANE: It’s another thing, yeah.
DIANE: Remember what he said: “When I die, I want it to die,” referring to the brand. He didn’t want it to continue, but they didn’t respect that—it’s all about money. Just like with Saint Laurent back in the ‘90s; Pierre Bergé forced him through those last ten years.
He wanted to quit for ten years, but Pierre Bergé pushed him, forcing him to keep going. He was so drugged up, just a mess, but he had to keep producing, and you can see it. You should visit the Saint Laurent museum, just across the bridge. It’s mostly archives of flower dresses. They have one in a case—I remember being at that show. Laetitia Casta wore the tackiest bridal look I’ve ever seen. It looked so cheap, just a bunch of flowers everywhere, absolutely awful. It’s in a case on display. I was at the opening for it, with a friend of mine, Catherine Baba, I told her the bride's look looked cheap, like something sold at Tati (a French store in Barbes that is closed now). It was heartbreaking. For someone who was once a genius, you’d want him to go out on a high note, not be forced to keep working or become a traveling retrospective like that.
FORM: Right.
DIANE: He told me how Saint Laurent kept begging Pierre Bergé to let him quit, but Bergé wouldn’t allow it. So, Saint Laurent had to keep going, churning out collections that just weren’t up to par. But still, when he came out on the catwalk, your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat— you had respect for him. Yet, there was this feeling of, when are you going to stop? Everyone has their limit. Margiela knew when he had nothing more to say. Issey Miyake, Kenzo—they knew when to leave. Some people just don’t. Leave at the top; don’t wait until it’s too late.
FORM: Leave at a high note.
DIANE: Yeah.
FORM: Absolutely. Interesting. Tell me more about your film festival—what are you planning, what’s going to happen, and what will you be showcasing?
DIANE: But my festival—unlike most fashion festivals—is a cultural event, not a red carpet affair. I want to discuss topics I find relevant, not just the typical fashion films. For example, when Gaultier was my president for one edition, we showcased films that weren’t cliché "fashion." He said, "No, people aren’t going to understand." But in reality, everything is fashion. What you eat is fashion, how you live your life is fashion; it’s not just about the garment.
FORM: It’s so much more than that.
DIANE: Exactly.
FORM: So, how did you create this look? You have such a unique silhouette—your hair, your glasses, the lipstick, the demeanour. Where did this come from? Do you always present yourself this way?
DIANE: It came from my heart.
FORM: No, but where...
DIANE: I mean, I need my glasses—I used to wear contact lenses and sunglasses, but now I just wear glasses. I like to put a bit of distance between myself and others. I’m a warm person, but I like to keep a certain space that feels respected. The high hair helps; I’m short, only 5'2", so I like to feel taller. As well, I wear platform shoes—I don’t care if they’re in style or not. Right now, they are, but when they’re not, I’ll still wear them because I want to feel tall! And the veil—I just like it.
FORM: It’s very poetic.
DIANE: I wear black because, when I was a designer in the 80s, I wore lots of prints, colors, and different styles. I found that my own dress was competing with what I was designing. Margiela, for instance, used to wear—and still does—white lab coats, as did Givenchy. I simply chose black. Then, when I stopped designing, wearing black made me feel more powerful. I find it a strong color, not a sad one. As someone once said, it’s a "lazy color," but it also says, "don’t bother me, and I won’t bother you."
FORM: Right.
DIANE: I resonate with that. I used to wear trousers, but now I’ve started wearing long skirts because everything about my style is organic. There’s no formula, no plan. I didn’t look at Marie Antoinette with her high hair and a boat in it, or at a Goya portrait, though people like to make those comparisons. I don’t mind the references, but they weren’t mine. It was simply instinct—I wanted to be taller, with higher hair, higher shoes, just to feel taller.
FORM: I love that.
As our conversation drew to a close, Diane’s influence and legacy became even more clear. Hers is a career not defined by fame or fleeting trends, but by an enduring commitment to the arts and a fearless embrace of individuality. Through A Shaded View on Fashion and her film festival, Diane continues to push the boundaries of how we view fashion—not simply as clothing, but as an encompassing lifestyle, rich with personal expression and cultural significance.
At a time when the fashion industry is often criticized for its breakneck pace and consumer-driven focus, Diane’s perspective feels like a call to slow down, reflect, and appreciate the artistry that often goes unnoticed. She remains a pioneer, grounded in authenticity and forever faithful to her unique vision. Her work and presence remind us that true style, much like her signature black, is timeless and, above all, fearless.
Get your tickets to ASVOFF here for November 7-10 at Dover Street Market Paris.
Discover two exclusive films here as part of FORM Archive.
Diane Pernet (@asvof)
A Shaded View On Fashion Film (@asvoff_official)
Words: Soukita Morgan (@bysoukita)
Conversation: Jordyn Lasko (@jordynalexandralasko)
