Goodwood, July 30... and the entire fashion menagerie is already stirring. Out come the hats, the porcelain laughter, the carefully rehearsed expressions… the Magnolia Cup, they call it… charitable, they say… as though charity had ever needed embroidered silks and VIP grandstands to exist, as though we hadn’t already perfected the ritual with balls, galas, and society auctions where money merely changes pockets between two glasses of lukewarm champagne in exchange for a tax deduction. Continue reading
Thus come to an end the long, mournful echoes of a bygone era. After thirty-seven years of a reign as discreet as it was sovereign, Véronique Nichanian has left the gilded ateliers of Hermès, the way one leaves a familiar forest at dusk, with the quiet grace of someone who knows that nothing ever truly dies. The House, like those old Breton manors weathered by the winds of the English Channel, still bears the imprint of her genius within its walls.
Let’s be clear, once and for all: Louis Vuitton did not create a surf collection. Louis Vuitton created a collection about surfing, which is about as credible as Berlusconi giving lessons in chastity. Cowabunga Bunga is the name of the collection because, apparently, someone had to make a joke, even if nobody understood it.
There is a particular cruelty in the luxury industry’s promises. Not the cruelty of excess that, consumers accept gladly, even eagerly — but the cruelty of the broken covenant. When a client walks into a Dior boutique in Gangnam and hands over a limited-edition handbag worth seven million won, she is not merely commissioning a repair. She is renewing an act of faith. The house understands this. It has built its entire mythology on it. Which is precisely why what happened next is so damaging.
One month of real-world use. Two pairs. Two failures. One verdict.
The Spring 2027 collection, which its progenitors deigned to christen Vacanze Siciliane, unfurled behind the runway a screen of theatrical magnificence. For in Milan, in June, one requires some vast illusion merely to survive the journey from rosy dawn to purple dusk, through the crushing heat that settles upon the city. Thus were bodies exhausted by the Milanese summer invited to plunge, by proxy, into Mediterranean waters both crystalline and cruelly out of reach.
Not so long ago, a man’s bathroom looked like the scene of an archaeological crime: a mummified bar of soap dating back to the Sarkozy era, a fossilized can of shaving foam, and a bottle of cologne gifted by Aunt Ginette in 2014, never opened, never missed. Male hygiene could be summed up in one simple philosophy: “if it stings in the shower, it must be cleaning something.”
For decades, the world’s largest corporations were led by financiers. MBA graduates from prestigious business schools sat at the top of organizational charts, armed with spreadsheets, ratios, and a command of capital that seemed to be the universal key to economic power. But something profound has shifted. Look at the figures who dominate the global economy today: 
For Summer 2027, Alessandro Sartori celebrates a way of life deeply rooted in Italian culture with “La Villeggiatura,” a collection inspired by family holidays and the pleasure of carrying one’s lifestyle wherever one goes. The Zegna artistic director drew on this nostalgic tradition to create a wardrobe where comfort, freedom, and sophistication come together effortlessly. More than a simple evocation of summer vacations, the collection expresses the idea of a mobile lifestyle, where the boundaries between relaxation and elegance naturally disappear.
The Resort 2027 collection by Tory Burch confirms the designer’s stylistic evolution toward a more personal and daring fashion language, blending offbeat femininity, unexpected color combinations, and textile innovation. Remaining true to her desire to revisit classics by making them “a little stranger,” Burch presents an optimistic and sophisticated wardrobe designed to accompany her clients across diverse destinations and climates. From the very first looks, a 1950s retro spirit emerges through floral dresses, low-slung belts, and rubberized leather boots suited to rainy seasons.
Some sacred unions are remembered by history. Hermès and its horses. Louis Vuitton and its monogram canvas. And now, RIMOWA and… Pikachu. The Cologne-born house, acquired by LVMH in 2017, has just unveiled a capsule collection celebrating 30 years of Pokémon — available exclusively in Japan, naturally, because nothing says “exclusivity” quite like confining the embarrassment to a single market.
The Spring-Summer 2027 menswear calendar has arrived and, faithful to Parisian tradition, it promises a week of intense strategic activity surrounding a subject as light as a cashmere coat lined with lead: fashion. Seventy-four brands, thirty-six runway shows and thirty-eight presentations will unfold before the inspired gaze of a meticulously dressed crowd. The opening will belong to the students of the French Fashion Institute, a charming ritual in which the future is applauded with enthusiasm. A touching custom, although one detail persists with Swiss regularity: despite the school’s prestigious reputation, not a single graduate currently stands at the helm of a major French or international fashion house. A launchpad whose rockets sometimes seem to prefer theoretical orbit. 
Unjustified price increases, erosion of quality, growing inequalities, and an identity crisis: the global luxury sector is undergoing its deepest reckoning since the Great Recession of 2008. At the Financial Times’ “Business of Luxury Summit” in Barcelona, major maisons were confronted with an unvarnished reality: they have lost 50 million customers in just two years.
Today’s youth are growing up in a world where facts bend, where screens replace experience, and where Orwell’s shadow looms larger than ever.
They arrived in hoodies, hands buried in their pockets, eyes glued to their phones. Not to the dial of a watch, since they do not wear one, but to their phones where the Vinted app is already open and ready to upload a product listing written the night before while they were standing in line. The photo? Snapped hastily on the sidewalk, the watch still in its box. The price? €1,200. The description? “Never worn.” Of course never worn. It did not survive ten minutes on their wrist. In fact, it was never meant to.
After a difficult year marked by a decline in sales, Chanel is finding its way back to growth. The prestigious French fashion house reports annual revenues of $19.3 billion, up 3% at current exchange rates, representing a 1.8% increase on a comparable basis. This recovery, as encouraging as it is symbolic, comes in a still fragile environment, particularly due to the persistent slowdown in luxury spending in mainland China, which had weighed heavily on the previous year’s results.
At LVMH, houses are rarely sold. After all, Bernard Arnault tends to collect brands the way others collect Flemish paintings or vineyards of questionable “nectar quality.” So seeing Marc Jacobs move to WHP Global for €1.4 billion feels less like a simple transaction and more like a grand spring cleaning of vicuña, that elusive Andean camelid.
There are billionaires who collect yachts, and then there’s the Lord’s dynasty, who prefer to collect ceilings and Sienese bronzes. This week, the Lord of the Arnaults struck again. Destination: “The Frick.” Yes, the Frick Collection. The name alone sounds like an immensely wealthy American aunt who refuses gluten and has three Gainsboroughs in her living room. The Lord loves “The Frick” in French it’s chic.