Once again, Simon Porte Jacquemus serves us a lukewarm Provençal soup, this time simmered at the Orangerie of Versailles because the rural fantasy must coexist with the gilt of the monarchy. On one side, aprons, petticoats, and cuffed collars; on the other, Matthew McConaughey and Gillian Anderson in the audience: the great divide between the farm and the red carpet, expertly orchestrated for the shedding of couture blood.

Jacquemus isn’t presenting a collection; he’s endlessly reenacting an autobiographical tale that has become a cliché: the country boy who becomes the prince of hype. A rural mythology that he recycles “ad nauseam” (obsessively and repetitively) each season, as if we must constantly remind ourselves that he is “a country boy.” We get it. And with the curtains transformed into skirts for his mother, the storytelling continues, but do you really have to wear a shawl collar in 2026 to pay homage to Mamie Claire and her vegetable baskets?

This show, supposedly “upmarket,” smacks of mimicry, with amplified silhouettes, geometric volumes without a sense of design, but above all, without rigor or new vision. This isn’t fashion, it’s nostalgic scenography, illustrating a memory. Continue reading →

The designer was moved by a tender scene: young people having fun dressing up in their elders’ clothes. This simple image inspired his spring collection. He wanted to capture the essence of this clumsy yet sincere sartorial exploration, where you thoughtlessly layer an evening dress borrowed from your older sister with a sports jacket, or an oversized suit and tie found in your father’s closet.

“I found it interesting to see how boys and girls make mistakes when they dress for the first time,” he confided through an interpreter. This tender look at young people’s experimentation with clothing gives rise to a fashion imbued with nostalgia, freedom, and boldness, where mistakes become style and improvisation becomes elegance.

A jumpsuit inspired by workwear and sky suits, the piece reinterpreted for a modern woman who embraces her movements without constraint. We can sense the echo of workshops and the burning breath of sewing machines, but in reality, another force is now expressed. Continue reading →

Jonathan Anderson, newly installed at Dior, had the rare foresight to warn everyone: no need to get excited before five collections which translates to roughly five years of patience, suspense, and colossal marketing budgets.

Essentially, he’s asking us to sit down, breathe deeply, and wait for the miraculous vision to emerge somewhere between the 247th experimental embroidery and the 12th 18th-century waistcoat, remixed à la Margiela.

Critics will have to relearn the art of anticipation, shareholders must practice mindfulness, and the public is expected to applaud the invisible while hoping that, perhaps, a concept will eventually materialize like a couture epiphany. Dior has thus become a long-form PhD, and we, kindly, its loyal guinea pigs.

FM

The rise of 33-year-old Damson Idris is a true success story, catapulting him from the streets of Peckham, South London, to the heights of Hollywood. Far from being a path paved with gold, his journey is marked by perseverance and unwavering determination, as evidenced by his driving lessons: “When I finally passed [my driving test], I was an exceptional driver, the best in Peckham,” he confides with a mischievous smile during a recent photoshoot. Continue reading →

At Emporio Armani, it was a Netflix-style One Thousand and One Nights atmosphere. A dramatic turn of events: King Giorgio wouldn’t be coming. Officially, he was “convalescing.” Unofficially, he was binge-watching his own collection on a flat screen from his bed, likely in a silk bathrobe. It was Leo dell’Orco, faithful right-hand man and Italian Mr. Clean doppelgänger, who came out to wave at the end of the show. He announced in a zen tone that Giorgio had seen everything, loved everything, validated everything. The style was safe. Continue reading →

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 →

Night falls over Shanghai, but nothing dims; the city pulses and stretches, like Hermès leather drawn tight between tradition and vertigo. It is here, by the riverbank, in the shimmering of towers and dreams, that Hermès opens the second chapter of its Fall-Winter 2025 collection. Continue reading →

Who would have thought that one day, our wildest (and bluest) dreams would come true? Hold on tight, because Ferragamo and Porsche have decided to unite in a collaboration so luxurious it would make the summer sky pale in comparison.

No more struggling to find a handbag that matches your car! Now, lucky owners of a Porsche and Ferragamo accessories will be able to match their leather to their luxury car. Yes, you read that right: the intense blue from Maximilian Davis’s Fall 2023 Ferragamo collection is now the new black… for sports cars! Continue reading →

A cruise show at the Royal Palace, but in Caserta, perhaps to summon the spirits of a glorious past, of silent queens and luminous heroines. However, forget the rigid crinolines and ball gowns. Max Marrat, through the inspired hand of its artistic director, crafts an ode to the free, ardent, imperious woman—in short, the woman I love. 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.

Shop windows still gleam, salons still echo with the hushed murmur of rare fabrics, but the backstage is searching for players. According to a study by the Comité Colbert, French luxury houses are struggling to attract new talent. Boutique positions that living theater where the emotion of the first encounter with an exceptional object plays out – remain vacant longer than before. And on the front lines, in hotels or flagships, the shortage is felt even more acutely because service demands haven’t changed.

But it’s at the very top that the absence becomes glaring: 93% of luxury houses admit to difficulties recruiting directors. These are the very individuals who once embodied the link between elegance and operations, between vision and the immediate. Continue reading →

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.

At Renault, he already wowed us by reinventing the Renault 5 as a poor man’s Tesla. Now, we’re wondering with a shudder: what will he be able to unearth from the haute couture closets? Perhaps a little black dress by T Ford?

But let’s be honest, an Italian at the head of an Italian group seems almost logical. “You France, me Italy,” he is said to have whispered in the ear of the lord of the Arnaults, in a hushed duel of tasseled loafers, all under the gilt of a board meeting scented with Hermès leather and a triptych of egos. Continue reading →

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.

The Foundation, this contemporary luxury cathedral designed by Gehry, continues its balancing act between art and brand image. It sells us culture as one would sell a Capucines bag, with the veneer of storytelling and an impeccable display. Hockney, with his blond blow-dry and drawn cigarettes, ticks all the boxes: global star, mischievous octogenarian, and an artist “who still dares to use color” in a world saturated with digital gray. He’s perfect for the poster. A bit too perfect?

The exhibition journey is generous, immersive, visually very strong, and the use of a vibrant color palette, while charming to some, could be seen as a stagnant visual identity rather than a deep theoretical justification. But in striving to overwhelm us visually, the exhibition ultimately resembles a kind of Arty Disneyland: everything is big, everything is “bigger,” and above all, everything is “Hockneyland.” Continue reading →

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.

FM

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 →