I haven’t been this struck by fashion in a long time. What Ellen Hodakova Larsson did on the opening day of Paris Fashion Week was so profound, heart-wrenching, and purely beautiful that I almost wonder whether the term “fashion” even applies.

For autumn–winter 2026, Hodakova returned to the idea of home – a theme she has explored for some time, but which here felt more substantial and powerful than ever. True to her practice, she transformed everyday objects into garments: an itty-bitty bra fashioned from teacups; a rug crafted into a capelet; pieces incorporating parts of chairs. The effect was as subversive as when Meret Oppenheim covered a teacup in fur: feminine decorum gone rogue, yet also wildly sensual.

But the distortions and subtle provocations did not end there. Mirrors appeared as accessories – an ode to vanity, but also to introspection. Silken strands that snaked up the body and fastened at the neck (where zippers might once have been) were not samples of blonde hair, but horsehair violin strings. She imagined a musician impeccably dressed for a performance, only to lose herself entirely in the music. And the fur coats that seemed to levitate, hovering like oneiric corpses above the models’ bodies? A literal “home for the body”, staged in a manner reminiscent of an Olivier Saillard and Tilda Swinton performance.

Hodakova’s work is at once literal and strangely elusive: like a dream that floods you with feeling, only to dissolve the moment you awaken. That is not to say her clothes are ephemeral. On the contrary, she is a designer who, like few others, champions a return to meaty, tactile, hyper-real materiality. Her latest collection marks a striking plunge into the sartorial world, with deconstructed Harris Tweed jackets and coats anchoring the vision.

A very, very good start to Paris.

Collage by Edward Kanarecki.
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