Chanel’s Fall/Winter 2014 collection was more than a show. It was a statement. Chanel transformed the Grand Palais into their own Parisian boulevard, which they named Boulevard Chanel. The industry’s most sought-after models followed behind Cara Delevingne, who marched the group out grasping a microphone in her right hand. The models carried sociopolitical signs, each proclaiming a different phrase. “Feminist But Feminine.” “History Is Her Story.” “Ladies First.” “He for She.” “Boys Should Get Pregnant Too.” The crowd passionately chanted while a choir sang in the background. For 18 minutes and 50 seconds, the world’s most prominent fashion house was indistinguishable from a protest.

Following the show, Karl Lagerfeld described the performance as genuine, explaining that it was a way to promote equality using Chanel’s platform. Critics challenged this. Several media outlets, including Jezebel, a feminist news and culture platform, condemned the show as being an example of “faux feminism.” Criticism stemmed from the irony of a house known for lavish, expensive handbags protesting the exact economic structures that built it.

It is not uncommon for fashion to draw inspiration from political movements; however, it is typically done in a subtle manner. Most designers will draw upon a certain mood, figure, or emotion, but never to the extent in which Lagerfeld did. The literalism displayed in this show was unique, as Chanel was not afraid to voice their opinion in the most direct of ways. This was not just a slight gesture at a protest. It was one.

This raises a compelling question. If a demonstration can be staged to this extent for a gathering of buyers and editors, what differentiates an authentic protest from a funded imitation of one? Feminist language and ideas have been absorbed by pop culture, simply because they can be repurposed in a way that is profitable. This quest to create profit deprives the meanings of the words and ideas that once carried more weight. Chanel’s show is a direct example of this absorption by pop culture, as it was flooded with enough financial backing to almost pass as a genuine protest.

What I find worth noting are the phrases on the signs themselves. “History Is Her Story” is an expression that you would expect to hear at an actual march. This resemblance is very intentional, as the signs were purposely created to be indistinguishable from actual protest materials. The audience of editors and buyers were not asked if they agreed with the message of the show or not. They were simply expected to acknowledge the general idea of the movement and applaud, the same way they would applaud any other designer who drew inspiration from anything culturally significant.

The impact of this show was so vast, likely due to how it never had to resolve what it represented. From an analytical perspective, it satirizes the extent to which feminism had been integrated into marketing language. From a more shallow perspective, it simply performs that integration rather than critiquing it, as it was executed well enough that many mistook the performance for a genuine statement. The show’s depth stems from the fact that the audience was never forced to abide by either perspective; it was left up to personal interpretation.

What Boulevard Chanel really uncovered was not about politics; it was about how the fashion industry turns an initiative into a look. The system profits off marketable movements because the buzz surrounding them sells. The show was not just commentary on feminism being used for profit. It was the sale of feminism, dressed up to appear as commentary.