The French woman, and even more so the Parisian, radiates across the world a carefully cultivated indolence, a centuries-old nonchalance made of silences, suggestive glances, and useless gestures that have somehow become essential. She is not merely a fashion figure but an urban myth, endlessly observed and imitated, never worn out.

In Paris, this attitude finds its epicenter somewhere between two sidewalks on Breteuil and a lukewarm terrace warmed by braseros along boulevard Saint-Michel. For the Ami Fall–Winter 2026–2027 show, Alexandre Mattiussi does not dismantle this icon, he simply sets it in motion differently. The insouciance remains, but it is enriched by a claimed comfort, by an approach to dressing that favors personal impulse over written rules.

Imaginary passersby walk his runway, escapees from the streets of the capital, silhouettes without a fixed narrative yet loaded with possible lives. Mixed, plural couples dressed as if scavenged in the Marais kilo-shops, through joyful accumulation and controlled disorder. The great staples of the wardrobe, wool coats, straight jeans, blazers, striped shirts, pile up like memories. Nothing is forced; everything feels found along the way. To my right, a bimbo flails like a faulty alarm during a heatwave, so completely out of control that the fire brigade eventually carries her off, more in the name of public hygiene than heroism.

In short, ties dangle like barely restrained masculine appendages, and in fashion it is better to throw caution behind the tie than to shove a tie where it does not belong. Finally, a memory surfaces from my old headphones, wired earphones making a stubborn comeback like a relic from the world before, the one where applause existed without hashtags. The knitted sweater fraternizes with the white shirt, then wanders off into sweatpants and sneakers. It is a walker’s elegance, a fashion that does not parade but proceeds, free, attentive, sovereignly undisciplined. Personally, I loved it, and stepping outside I could not help thinking that my age is clearly moving faster than my enthusiasm.

FM