To witness yet another season of so-called “innovation” or the redemption arc of Raf Simons, desperately chasing the last scraps of his once-praised creative genius! What fresh hell of utopias is this—he and Miuccia give us a field of shaggy carpets shaped like flowers. Seriously? The natural light and birdsong were meant to evoke a sense of calm, but all they did was highlight the total lack of imagination.
Rineke Dijkstra’s portrait of a boy in an ill-fitting swimsuit, presented as a symbol of “vulnerability”? Well, no—for Raf, it was just a boy in a badly tailored bathing suit. And that striking 1993 image of a teenager on the beach in Odessa, Ukraine—is that supposed to be political commentary?
Simons, sipping his miniature Coca-Cola like a parody of Karl, chiming in with platitudes about “calm, positivity, and balance” and the noble “freedom to express yourself however you want.” The only thing truly expressed here was a profound apathy toward real innovation, according to Dior’s former designer.
A starched white camp shirt half-tucked into a bloomer yes, a sort of ironic harem pant—made the models look like oversized toddlers in a school play. Continue reading
There was a time, not so long ago, when working for a major luxury brand was enough to ignite dreams. The mere name of a brand, embroidered on a business card, opened doors to the world and brought smiles. But since the silent storm of the Covid-19 crisis, that charm has eroded. Recruiting in the retail sector has become an uncertain, almost thankless task. And luxury, despite its brilliance, is no longer an exception.
It’s now official: director “De Mytho,” a genius of electrified sheet metal and king of retro-recycling, is taking the reins at Kering. After reviving 1950s Renaults by plugging them into an iPhone socket, he’s now tackling a new project: fashion and luxury. No less.
Beauty seeks new master builder. Leonard A. Lauder, the Mozart of mascara and the Picasso of fragrance, passed away on Saturday at the venerable age of 92.
David Hockney is exhibiting at the Fondation Louis Vuitton, and it must be said that everything is there: the large formats, the explosive colors, the small, very precisely calibrated dose of non-subversion, and above all, meticulous staging. But what do we really see? Hockney, certainly, but also a lot of Vuitton.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Birkenstock 1774 and Maharishi have joined forces, and your feet will never be the same.
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.