Olivier Rousteing, the charismatic captain of the Balmain ship, continues his voyage across a huge ocean of wool, steering far from the glittering reefs of excess. For the pre-spring collection, he took a deep breath probably somewhere between two turtlenecks to announce his new credo: easy to stitch, easy to sell! Continue reading
In a valley suspended out of time, nestled in the secret embrace of the Alps, lived an old jeweler named Silas. He wasn’t just a master of gems; it was said he listened to stones as others listened to the stars, and that gold spoke to him in dreams. He never crafted the same piece of jewelry twice, for each was born from a unique silence, a breath from the deep world, dictated by the sigh of metals and the buried song of crystals.
One pale winter morning, as snow wrote its poems on the windowpanes, a figure slipped into the workshop. She wore a cape of bark and moss, her hair smelled of sap, and her eyes reflected the infinite blue of mountain lakes. Her name was Oréade. “I seek a jewel that isn’t given,” she murmured, “but earned. A jewel that can recognize the soul.”
Silas, seized by an ancient shiver, delved into his memories and, with a slow gesture, pulled a forgotten box from a shadowy corner. From it, he drew a stone—an emerald like a drop of ancient forest, green as a memory, fluid as the secret of a vanished river. Continue reading
In the traveling soul of Giambattista Valli, Marrakech was no longer just a destination, but a haunting presence, an oriental melody that vibrated deep within his being. Like a collector of fleeting impressions, he constantly went to breathe the air of its medinas, where the echo of merchants mingled with the intoxicating scents of spices. The secret gardens, edged with exuberant bougainvillea, and the flower stalls, opulent like precious silks, were no longer simple fleeting visions; they had inscribed themselves, with the delicacy of a dream’s imprint, at the very heart of his moodboard, and even to the reins of his marketing inspiration.
For his spring haute couture show, Valli, like an alchemist of dreams, as an oniric odyssey, materialized in voluminous skirts, ethereal with royal caftans, woven in fantasy jacquards that shimmered with a pure gold gleam, like the most precious gold of Byzantine jewels.
A nomadic spirit, a wandering soul, for daywear of luminous impeccability, alongside ceremonial gowns, fluid as whispers, all imbued, with an exquisite delicacy, with the scents of the Maghreb. Continue reading
Designer fragrances reign supreme over the most glamorous category in the beauty industry. So why on earth aren’t more designers cashing in? Perhaps they’re too busy agonizing over the perfect shade of beige for next season’s collection.
Of course, there are those tiny little inconveniences like astronomical costs and a hyper-competitive landscape where everyone wants a piece of the perfumed pie. “This category is doing extremely well,” we’re told, “and designer fragrances are seen as ambitious and prestigious.” Right—because nothing says ambition like your sixth flanker of the year.
In the U.S. prestige market, fragrance is the fastest-growing category. Thanks in part to all those exciting price hikes and ever-stronger concentrations—because one drop is nice, but tripling the cost makes it truly elite.
There’s no right or wrong way to enter this market—unless, of course, you forget to offer a product that doesn’t smell like defeat straight out of the bottle. You’ve got to captivate the customer, seduce them. Enchant them, ideally. Continue reading
Saint-Ex, the winged poet, brushed the soil of Alghero in the final breaths of his life. Antonio Marras knew it he hears the whispers of Sardinia in every hem, every whirlwind of tulle. Each season, his paths of stitching take to the sea once more, returning to the heart, where the olive tree sings and military dust flirts with the garden. Continue reading
It’s a piece that doesn’t go unnoticed, and the bomber imagined by Dgena.fr and worn by artist Taic has literally gone around the world. An unexpected fusion of street and couture savoir-faire, this exceptional garment redefines the contours of clothing as a medium of expression for the French music scene.
Made from duchesse satin, a dense, noble material often reserved for gala dresses, the bomber assumes a duality of extreme sophistication and urban attitude. A delicate yet powerful macramé structure wraps the garment like 3D textile tattoos.
The choice of Taic, a visual artist and performer with multiple influences, is not insignificant. Known for his ability to fuse disciplines, cultures and political messages, he has worn this piece in a series of performances and appearances on several continents. From the streets of Tokyo to the galleries of Berlin, backstage at the Lagos Festival or in the conceptual windows of Paris, this bomber is no longer just a garment, it’s a flag. Continue reading
The story of the Beall family, a true embodiment of the American dream built on resilience and entrepreneurship, began in 1915. That year, Robert Beall, a humble cotton farmer from Georgia, saw his crops devastated by a boll weevil infestation. Rather than give in to despair, he made a bold decision: to leave his homeland and seek new opportunities in Florida.
Settling in Bradenton, Robert opened a small dry goods store called Dollar Limit, where nothing cost more than one dollar. This simple principle—offering affordable products for everyone—would become the foundation of the family business. Over the years, Dollar Limit evolved and grew into Bealls, a department store chain known for its great value, even if prices rose slightly above a dollar. Continue reading
A new breath rises through the corridors of Montaigne, where the threads of Dior still resonate. It awakens to welcome an eighth designer: Jonathan, the islander with a dawn-like gaze, who will forge his vision from the trembling archives and the golden ashes of the New Look.
With a unified vision, a mind that holds both man and woman in a single haute couture consciousness, he will hem ambiguity like a faille collar, weaving masculine and feminine into a fabric of echoes. Continue reading
In the late 1990s, at just 18 years old, Gisele Bündchen was invited to walk in a major British fashion house’s spring-summer 1998 show — her very first international runway appearance. But an unexpected challenge arose: she was informed she would have to walk the runway topless.
Shaken by the news, the young model seriously considered backing out. In the end, it was the show’s makeup artist who came up with an unusual solution: he suggested using body paint to cover her chest.
In her memoir, she reflects on the experience: “I wasn’t the outgoing type. I was more of a tomboy and had felt self-conscious about my body since puberty. I was afraid my family would be ashamed. I was terrified.” She also admitted that she had no idea how these shows were supposed to work at the time.
Ironically, the daring look became one of the show’s most iconic moments — and played a key role in launching her career to new heights.
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Grazia Maria’s departure from Dior marks the end of an era which, despite enthusiastic proclamations, was above all notable for its inconsistency. Propelled to the rank of genius by complacent critics, she excelled in the art of effect without cause, of stance without vision.
Behind the feminist discourse and over-intellectualized collections lay a vacuity that the house of Dior had long tried to mask under the trappings of concept. This departure, quietly but not without relief, marks the possible return of a true aesthetic rigor, freed from the pseudo-subversive veneer that served as style.
The ultimate irony: the woman who dreamed of being avant-garde is leaving the stage at the very moment when Pierpaolo Piccioli, after twenty-five years of gracefully and profoundly embodying the feminine soul of Valentino, is making a remarkable entrance at Balenciaga. Long reduced to the discreet role of Grazia Maria’s shadowy figure, he finally emerges into the light. While she fades into the polite indifference reserved for overly long-lasting impostures, he establishes himself as the legitimate heir to a demanding, sensitive, and embodied fashion.
You never enchanted me, Madam, but it’s true that your contempt for men oozed from every collection. Under the guise of feminism, you cultivated a form of cold resentment, disguised as a concept. By dint of wanting to deconstruct, you forgot to create.
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Maria Grazia Chiuri, high priestess of maximal minimalism, has decided to play on home turf for her cruise collection. Ten years after making Rome vibrate with her cell phone, she returns with “Mirabilia Romae.” Rome, an open city, or how to try to surpass a decade-old moment of glory in a city that has seen Julius Caesar, Fellini, and the scooter from Roman Holiday.
For a presentation at the Villa Albani Torlonia, which represents a transition between Baroque and Neoclassicism, Gracia, in a peplum version on LSD, immerses us in an artificial mist so thick that it looked like Russell Crowe appeared in a skirt, still searching for his inner gladiator. A light rain fell right as the show began, as if the departed couturiers were weeping with sadness from the very beginning.
But Chiuri, a skilled tamer of symbols, transformed the ambient humidity into a stylistic argument: “It’s Rome weeping with beauty,” she is said to have whispered backstage, cheerfully echoed by the plague attachés in the audience.
A clever mix of striking vestal virgins and warriors on sabbatical, dresses embroidered to the point of exhaustion, and capes that would make the Pope look like a philistine. The models paraded as if they carried the legacy of the Roman Empire on their shoulders. Continue reading
It was Monday, that sacred day when millionaires get bored and mistresses get busy. Louis Vuitton, always eager to fill that existential void between a caviar massage and a scheduled divorce, unveiled his latest haute joaillerie collection at the Château de Bellver, a gothic setting perfectly suited to the egos of his guests.
More than just a fashion show, it was a mass. No bread, no wine, but black Australian opals and Brazilian emeralds, all bigger than your personal trainer’s ambitions.
The collection is divided into two chapters:
“Le Monde de la Maîtrise” (The World of Mastery), for those who think that taming a man and a diamond are the same technique (stare, 12-inch heels, and checkbook in ambush).
And “Le Monde de la Créativité”, for those who know that true luxury is wearing a 300,000-euro ring… with flip-flops. Continue reading
Birkenstock 1774 and Maharishi have joined forces, and your feet will never be the same.
Their latest brainchild? The “Mogami Terra Tech” — a sandal so advanced, it’s practically a Transformer. Described as “an ergonomic evolution of the archival Birkenstock silhouette fused with Maharishi’s signature utilitarianism,” it’s essentially a stylish tank for your toes.
Originally launched in 2024 as part of Birkenstock’s Active Range (read: sandals that mean business), the Mogami was built to handle anything from a casual walk in the park to a spontaneous hike you didn’t sign up for. Now, thanks to Maharishi’s flair for functional fashion, the Mogami Terra Tech has leveled up with all-terrain upgrades and outdoor-friendly features — so yes, you can look cool while pretending you enjoy camping.
In short, it’s comfort, durability, and style—wrapped around your foot like a hug from a very fashionable robot.
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There was a time when influence rhymed with inspiration. Today, with female influencers, it rhymes above all with manipulation, scandal and ethics on sale. For behind the perfectly filtered stories and sponsored selfies lies a world where morality seems to have long since taken a trip to the Gobi Desert.
In recent years, the varnish has begun to crack. A company has been singled out for promoting a brand of lingerie that was supposed to be charitable. The money was supposed to go to the Ligue contre le cancer? Surprise: the association denies it. Rather than take responsibility, the boss dismisses the matter with the elegance of a counterfeit seller: “it’s not me, it’s the other guy”. Which goes to show that when you’re selling your image, you forget to look at who you’re giving it to.
That same year, when a former reality TV contestant dared to mention scams in this adulterated ecosystem, a defamation suit was filed in the same way as a beauty filter is activated to save face. However, the testimonials are piling up, and they’re hurting. Notably that of a blogger relayed by Numerama, who reveals that young people, sometimes minors, are the preferred targets of these influencers. The scam is becoming a business model for sex-starved beasts.
Life may be a grand performance, as the saying goes, and Nicolas Ghesquière seems to have designed the wardrobe for its boldest scenes. His newest Louis Vuitton cruise collection bursts with flair opulent, audacious, and vibrantly dramatic.
For the occasion, Ghesquière and the Vuitton team transported the fashion world to Avignon’s storied Palais des Papes. The site’s towering Gothic presence served as a powerful backdrop, echoing the collection’s chivalric spirit think embellished tunics, rakish cloaks, and liquid-metallic dresses reminiscent of modern-day heroines.
Dior announced Wednesday that it has officially been cleared of an Italian investigation into its supply chain. The Italian Competition Authority has granted the house a certificate of good ethical conduct, and Dior is delighted with what it calls a “positive conclusion,” which, in luxury communications terms, means “we had nothing to do with it.”
The scandal began last year with serious allegations of worker exploitation at several Chinese companies in Italy, quietly manufacturing luxury goods for brands like Armani, Dior, and Alviero Martini, while failing to treat their employees with such lavish treatment.
Dior, demonstrating what we’ll call proactive cooperation (and what lawyers call “please don’t sue us”), has worked hand in hand with Italian authorities to draw up a new list of promising commitments. These include greater transparency, stricter control of the supply chain, and initiatives to ensure the protection of artisans or at least prevent them from being harmed. Continue reading
Last year, the Chanel bulldozer, which had previously been running at full speed like a red carpet catwalk, suddenly stalled. Revenues were down for the first time since the covid, and profits plunged by 30%. The culprit? The Chinese purse, suddenly less enthusiastic about the idea of spending a minimum wage on a handbag.
The now British fashion house revealed that its 2024 turnover had fallen to 18.7 billion dollars, a slight drop of 4.3% (nothing dramatic, except when you’re used to being in orbit). Even the fashionistas of Tokyo and Seoul couldn’t compensate for the global economic storm.
Operating profit melted like mascara in the rain: 4.5 billion, compared to 6.4 last year. Yet Chanel is not skimping on spending, notably on revamping its boutiques and pampering its supply chain, probably with cashmere wolves.
On the style front, the tide has turned with the arrival of Matthieu Blazy as the new artistic director on 1 April. And no, it wasn’t a fish, but despite this chic reinforcement, the environment remains as fluid as a catwalk show on stilts.
In short, Chanel is tightening its belt (in golden tweed): hiring freeze! After recruiting 10,000 people over the last three years (including 1,900 in 2024, the vast majority between January and June), the company is planning to wisely remain at 38,400 employees this year. Even in the United States, where 70 jobs have been cut, representing 2.5% of the workforce – don’t panic, the handbags won’t sew themselves, but they will.
He will take up his post on July 10, time to put away his ruffles, bid farewell to poetic embroidery, and prepare psychologically to replace ethereal tulle with faded black neoprene. His first collection will be unveiled in October at Paris Fashion Week, where we hope at least one model won’t be dressed like a Mad Max survivor. Continue reading
The luxury sector is going through an unprecedented period of turbulence. Long a symbol of excellence, abundance and aspiration, it is now undergoing a tangible erosion, illustrated by the upheaval of historic department stores. In the United States, Saks Global has just announced the elimination of 500 to 600 brands from its portfolio – a strong gesture that reflects a brutal readjustment in the face of a reality that is less golden than it used to be.
British fashion house Burberry is responding to the current challenges with an ambitious new savings plan, which could lead to the loss of 20% of its workforce by 2027. The stated aim is to reduce sales to £3 billion, with the full support of creative director Daniel Lee.
Since his arrival in the summer of 2024, chief executive Josh Schulman has acted swiftly to stabilise the business, whose revenues fell by 17% in the 2025 financial year to £2.46 billion. In the twelve months to 29 March, like-for-like retail sales were down 12%, although there has been a gradual improvement.
This fall in revenues led to an operating loss of £3 million, compared with a profit of £418 million the previous year. However, the trend reversed in the second half of the year, with a profit of £67 million offsetting a loss of £41 million in the first six months.
Time stood still in Cannes when, during the spring bloom of 2003, a famous singer delicately let her purple silk stole fall down her forearms on the esplanade of the Palais des Congrès. The day after her ‘Golden Ambition’ tour. The ‘doctrine of the Diva’ has been repeated on numerous occasions since, notably the previous year, when a certain Bella, bust unveiled in a chiffon creation on the red carpet, caused a sensation. A way of honouring the female figure, or an offence against decency, depending on your point of view, but the Cannes Film Festival has just put an end to it.
In an update to its official dress code, the institution has added a clause on the subject. ‘For reasons of propriety, bodily exhibition is forbidden on the red carpet’, it reads, after specifying the colour of trousers allowed (ebony) and the length of dresses (long, unless it’s a little dark dress).
It’s where sacred leather sleeps on blessed shelves, and bags whisper for moccasins to meditate on. It’s on a cobbled street, of course, because tarmac is too vulgar for fashion mysticism, and with an air of mystery before a heavy wooden porte cochere that opens like a dramatic period film, here is the candlelit concept store lining the golden catacombs of style: the Palazzo Settimanni, the chic mausoleum of Gucci’s heritage.
Once a leather goods workshop, then a hype sanctuary under Tom Ford and an exhibition space (remember: the days when a belt could make a nun blush), the place has been resurrected by Alessandro Michele, that bohemian druid with long hair and multiple rings. He said he wanted to ‘bring the objects home’. Which, in his case, mostly meant saving vintage sequined dresses and moccasins from eternal oblivion in the warehouses of Milan.
Since he left the boat in 2022, perhaps tired of having brought back too many things or perhaps a victim of too much brocade, the torch has passed to Sabato De Sarno like a shooting star, and then recently to Demna, the man who transformed jogging into a philosophical manifesto, the Gandalf of post-apocalyptic silhouettes.