ohmygerd.
It’s been just over a week since PFW wrapped, and the crème de la crème of fashion debuted their SS26 dreams. We watched. We played our part. Then we did something rare. We paused. Let the thoughts brew, then overbrew. Paris doesn’t need another hot take; it needs a post-mortem. It’s earned it.
First incision: intent. Everyone’s pretending to care. Sustainability is now part of the performance, mandatory in tone but quietly contradicted by every show invite flown across the world. Fashion uses 215 trillion litres of water a year—86 million Olympic pools—and still drenches itself in delusion. Thousands of toxic chemicals later, we’re applauding “innovation” built on waste. Instead of using what already exists, the industry keeps producing more. Dressing to kill remains the priority.
But, spectacle is the currency. To dream is to design something audacious enough to photograph. Morals don’t stand a chance when capitalism always cashes the cheque. Burn the world if you must, just make those looks Diane Keaton, make them D’Angelo. Make them unforgettable.
On Saint Laurent
Kholi: The voluminous gowns were great. Beyond them, however, I question what Anthony Vaccarello has left to say at Saint Laurent; his era feels like a flame on the verge of extinguishing.
Verity: It was fifty looks, most of them repeats in new shades. Isn’t that cheating? At this point he’s quoting himself more than he’s designing. Next.
On Dior
V: Oh, I know you have thoughts on Dior.
K: This one really messed me up. I watched it in a hurry and loved it, but looking back felt like a hangover. I must’ve been drunk to have gagged over what I saw. Too many ideas, not enough editing. The collection begged for refinement and a clearer vision. Those gowns—looks 37 and 57—were hideous, like Virginie Viard had a hand in them.
In Cathy Horyn’s review (oddly civil this time), I read that Anderson invited Galliano to preview; I can’t stop wondering what he thought. He probably loved the hats. Look 36 should’ve opened the show. I think it’s also very rare that a show with more than 70 looks is ever spectacular. The goal should always be to present a tight, believable collection of good clothes, not a convoluted narrative that needs a press release to decode.
V: Guilty. I also got swept up in the hysteria. After hours of pre-show foreplay (they did Mikey Madison dirty), I was delirious by the time the show even started.
Jonathan’s stretched too thin to give Dior his full brain. The man’s booked, blessed and burning out. He’s such a Virgo. He can’t stop. Uniqlo didn’t need another JW line, and Dior definitely didn’t need this many syllables of concept.
Look 48, in motion, took me straight back to a Channel 4 doc I watched years ago—impossible to unsee. There’s a voyeuristic undertone running through this collection that flirts with brilliance, then trips like a t*t over its own reflection.
The thing is, when Jonathan’s good, he’s untouchable. But here, it’s like he’s playing five instruments at once and f*cking up the melody. I agree, he needs to learn to edit the number of looks. As far as debuts go, Dior was not my fave. Cute hats, though.
Also:
On Schiaparelli
K: Moving from chaos to control: Daniel Roseberry got straight to the point with 45 looks, backed by an iconic soundtrack (Aaliyah’s One in a Million). The strength felt less about the clothes—technically solid but nowhere near as moment-worthy as before—and more about the designer. Roseberry’s talented, good-looking and has a compelling personal story, which has been key to keeping Schiaparelli relevant. But despite the hype, his recent shows often land in “girl whatever” territory.
V: Trypophobics look away now. It was beautiful: sharp materials, smart concept, clean styling, perfect lighting. I’m glad to see the house still keeping its head above water with Daniel at the helm.
But, who do we think could, would and should replace Roseberry whenever the time comes?
On Tom Ford
K: I don’t think this collection photographed well. Its texture lived in the movement and choreography. Ackermann was chasing a mood rooted in a specific past era, a beautiful nostalgia that feels out of sync with now. It raises the question: can this translate into something people will actually buy? It was entertaining, full of design and substance, but something was missing. That feeling only grew stronger after seeing the Mugler collection. Maybe Ackermann would have made more sense there?
V: That’s what makes it so disappointing, because in the moment it was mesmerising. The trio of models in looks 47, 48 and 49 were everything. They gave adult Powerpuff Girls: Boss, Boujee and Badass. When I grow up, I want to be a Tom Ford model. Or at least, I thought I did.
On Givenchy
V: This collection is sharp and structured in places—almost too much so. Could I sit down in this without injuring myself or the garment? Probably not. It’s nice to see some nods to her debut last season, though I preferred the power femininity of that one. I am, however, a liker of the jeans in look 38.
K: Sarah Burton, an icon and a woman designer (!!!) with an incredible track record, just isn’t doing it for me. She designs for the serious girls—which, sure diva, why not—and I do love that she’ll never deliver a truly bad collection. But her work at Givenchy isn’t my taste. Undeniably tasteful, yes, but ultimately not for me.
On Alaïa
K: I’m still gagged that the top designers right now—Pieter, Raf and Matthieu—are three gays from Belgium, friends with two of them ex-lovers, and one just deeply emotional watching the others’ work. It’s the most wholesome thing in fashion.
Pieter’s breaking ground in a way that feels completely in sync with the current fashion conversation: subtle in its severity, loud in a faint whisper. I’m just happy he exists.
V: I actually loved this collection. It’s not to my usual taste, but I agree, Pieter’s adding real depth to the conversation—precision, restraint and sensuality all in one breath. Thank God Alex Consani managed to scratch that itch.
On Valentino
K: I was genuinely shocked to learn the house breached its debt terms (the debt-to-earnings ratio surpassed the limit in its credit agreement). Turns out Michele isn’t Jesus after all. But I’d like to believe the brand is worth saving. SS26, with all its excessive glamour and push-pull between past and present, was intoxicating. Look 28 was fab. Look 43 was my favourite; it gives the older, neurotic, rich sister of Versace. INTO IT!
V: The diva of Rome isn’t working miracles? How am I not surprised. I wasn’t intoxicated, I was overstimulated. It felt like a sensory overload of satin and symbolism. I can’t shake the feeling Michele’s trying to convince us he’s having fun when he’s actually spiralling…
On Loewe
V: Ok, so I was cautious. Jack and Lazaro stepping into Anderson’s world could’ve gone either way, reverent or reckless. Turns out it was neither. It still feels like Loewe, but it doesn’t feel so J-Dub. It’s lighter, sexier. For me, Loewe mirrors Barcelona: the colours, the shapes, the proportions.
The colour-blocking was phenomenal. That butter-yellow bomber has already sh*t on every jacket I’ve ever owned. Ah, and the opening look didn’t just land, it blocked out the sun. Shade level 100. Loved it.
K: Someone said the opening look was a better reinterpretation of the Bar Jacket than what J-Dub presented at Dior. I kinda agree. The music was so good. The see-through shoes with the replaceable socks? Genius.
V: I hit Shazam on the music straight away. Pachanga Boys’ Black Naga. No need to thank me.
On Jean Paul Gaultier
V: How the model wearing look 5 managed to keep a straight face, I don’t f*cking know.
K: There’s gutsy, bold risk-taking (like Dario Vitale at Versace) and then there are interesting ideas that spiral out of control, sacrificing the brand’s integrity. Duran Lantink’s “disruptive” debut had a few too many exclamation points on the runway—and I mean that in the worst possible way. Look 51 should have been the opener. So much wasted opportunity. Here’s hoping he pulls it together for couture.
On Balenciaga
K: For a house that needed a good scrub, Pierpaolo delivered. The flip-flops and sunglasses were interesting, clearly an attempt to prove he can do “cool”. But he’s so inherently not that it just comes off looking forced. Stick to the clean glamour, darling. Cool’s overrated.
V: Funny how the creative head of Balenciaga can be so uncool. We may as well give the poor boy another chance and see what he cooks up for Couture Week.
On Miu Miu
V: If Prada is for the woman who can do it all, then Miu Miu is for the woman who refuses to. She’s not lazy, she’s selectively unavailable, sulking around the house in her apron like it’s couture.
K: Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen, shall we? I mean, I spotted some gems here and there, sans the aprons. Why did we have to keep seeing that motif over and over again? The casting, however, I genuinely loved.
On McQueen
On Chanel
K: Best opening look and set design of the season (shoutout to Bureau Batak). But I’m noticing a trend: the girls are clinging to their ‘isms’ (Jonathan’s Loewe-isms at Dior, Bottega-isms at Chanel). Whether I’m into this philosophy remains unclear.
Also, Awar Odhiang being only the third Black model to ever close a Chanel show left me a little shook. Three Black brides in over 250 shows? What do you mean, Chanel? Bring Karl back from the dead for an arse-whooping, immediately.
V: Are we really surprised? Chanel’s track record speaks for itself.
That said, it’s a proper refresh of the tweeds and those Chanel textures. Sharp, restrained and genuinely wearable again. The space-themed set was a subtle nod to Karl’s last show for Chloé, which makes sense for Matthieu.
You can clearly see some Bottega influence, which is to be expected, but it’s handled with control. What Matthieu said about fashion hitting a ceiling rings true. This might not have shattered it, but it definitely pushed the conversation somewhere new.
Seventy-seven looks was a stretch, though. Matthieu and Jonny both need to learn how to rein it in and edit down. Still, a great debut. The best? No. But great overall.