Church. Dolce & Gabbana Alta Sartoria 2025

It’s been years, YEARS since I wrote about a Dolce & Gabbana show. But this one caught my attention for all the right – and wrong – reasons.

The haute couture season doesn’t really end until Dolce & Gabbana says the last word with its obnoxiously opulent, over-the-top alta moda shows (there are three of them: for jewellery, womenswear and menswear). They are presented not in Paris, but in Italy – that explains why it’s off the official couture schedule.

Most of the time I hate what contemporary Dolce & Gabbana does (from the Lauren Sanchez wedding dress to the designers’ problematic statements, the list for cons over pros goes on and on). Yet I have a sentiment for old Dolce & Gabbana, especially from the 1980s, 1990s, when the designers dissected the codes of Italianity and created an entire visual lexicon that was very rawn and undiluted. And I must admit that the brand’s latest Alta Sartoria collection – which goes for menswear couture – presented not just anywhere in Rome, but at the steps of Castel San’Angelo – and with IRL bishops in attendance – is really something worth analyzing. READ MY FULL REVIEW HERE.

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Brut. Maison Margiela AW25 Haute Couture

Couture is the most archaic branch of fashion sensu lato, and this time around I really wondered if it shouldn’t be put to sleep – and wake up only when it has something meaningful to say again. Or at least when a prince – a new, revolutionary talent – emerges and gives it a kiss of life.

Glenn Martens certainly isn’t that prince. I’ve never been a number one Y/Project fan, and his Diesel isn’t my cup of tea either. So when the news broke that he’s the new creative director of Maison Margiela, you can imagine I wasn’t overly thrilled. After seeing his debut artisanal collection yesterday, all I thought was: damn, we’ve been really blessed to see John Galliano’s final act over a year ago (and we just didn’t deserve it).

To me, Martin Margiela isn’t just the ultimate fashion genius – but also a designer of silence. It took years for Galliano to get into that “silence”. Martens, who’s from a generation that studied Margiela at school, and whose work has been heavily influenced by Margiela since day one, is a “loud” designer. As in “pop-loud”.

That says a lot about why his first collection for the house lacked the soul-touching subtlety of Martin – or Galliano – and instead relied heavily on straightforward references, such as the masks. READ MY FULL REVIEW HERE.

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Fin. Balenciaga AW25 Haute Couture

This haute couture season proves that fashion indeed needs a reset – and the seismic shift of designer departures and new appointments is a healthy cleanse of the system. Chanel’s final pre-Matthieu Blazy show, coming from the overstayed, post-Virgie Viard studio, looked and felt like a parade of dusty, beige utensils that found their way out of a cupboard. Demna‘s final act for Balenciaga, although high on farewell emotions, did convince me that it’s really time to move on. Whatever his Gucci will be, it should definitely operate on a different methodology than the one he created at Balenciaga. It’s understandable he chose to close his chapter at the maison with a collection that was one big bowl of reheated nachos, from the model casting (from synonymous-with-the-brand Isabelle Huppert to on-the-nose Kim Kardashian) to the line-up’s overall look, a Frankenstein hybrid cross-pollinated by the Georgian designer’s idiomatic volumes and proportions, and Cristobal’s archival tropes. But somehow I hoped Demna’s Balenciaga fin would be a one last conceptual stretch, like a dress made from hundreds of meters of taffeta draped on the model a few minutes before the show, or the memorable “Parliament” show.

Nevertheless, here’s to Demna’s new chapter at Gucci, and as for Pierpaolo Piccioli: the Balenciaga floor is yours.

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Shock Effect. Schiaparelli AW25 Haute Couture

Sparking a shock effect is obvious as day for Daniel Roseberry and his vision of Schiaparelli; ultimately, it was Elsa who coined Shocking Pink. Yet there was nothing pink about the autumn-winter 2025 haute couture show. Roseberry continues to examine radical restraint – of the woman’s body, rather than the discipline of dress-making or tailoring – and this collection felt darker than usual. It referred to Schiaparelli’s late 1930s collections, which were peak surrealist – but also carried a sense of growing melancholy and unrest, as if they foresaw the upcoming tragedies of Second World War. There are many indicators that the world we know today is off to a burning, unstoppable crisis, so it’s no wonder why Roseberry is in a gloomier mood. But then there’s the shocker that lets the mind escape for moment: amidst the corseted matador suits, body-morphing padding, hourglass shapes and heavily embellished gowns, a red corseted satin dress constructed with a fake torso and breasts in the back, with a pulsating (as in for real, not trompe l’oeil) red rhinestone heart necklace hanging just below the nape of the model’s neck. The sight was both sinister and highly body horror, somewhere between “The Substance“, “Death Becomes Her” and “Suspiria“. But it also screamed: madame couture has arrived.

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Costume. Valentino SS25 Couture

Let’s be honest: this haute couture season was brief and left you feeling hungry. Maybe it wasn’t a famine for beauty, as Andre Leon Talley liked to say. There was way too much beauty – of the conventional kind. Hundreds of metres of tulles, thousands of hours of handwork, millions of digital impressions. But to me, this couture signalled one thing: it’s a growingly archaic commodity. Gone are the days when Raf Simons at Dior presented absolutely contemporary-looking vision of eveningwear. Or Karl Lagerfeld showing couture sneakers at Chanel. This season painfully missed true fashion moments. There was absolutely nothing close to a spectacle like THAT last John Galliano collection for Maison Margiela. Demna shows couture for Balenciaga only once a year, in July, but I really wished he saved this season. In the meantime he wore a T-shirt while being awarded with the title of Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres. And a plastic bag to Alessandro Michele’s debut Valentino couture show. I feel him.

Speaking of that debut, it was a brief moment of high this season, but as Angelo Flaccavento very rightly observed, this was a parade of great, convincing costumes, but not that great clothes. In the end, haute couture is a form of very precious, very costly applied art that’s being worn – at least once in its lifetime.

Michele really showcased all the possibilities of the Valentino artisan savoir-faire. To such extremes it felt dizzying (as the show’s title, “Vertigineux”, suggests), even nauseous. Huge ball-dresses dipped in embroideries and embellishments, meaty lace, massive crinolines, sumptuous excess all over: this certainly could be a separate costume department for a Fellini film. Unfortunately, as it’s the case with costumes, they wear the wearer. This isn’t very couture.

So, if Real Housewives of Salt Lake City’s Bronwyn Newport ever wears anything straight from that runway, Britani Bateman has full right to question it as costume.

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