At Schiaparelli, I feel like Daniel Roseberry doesn’t have a clear idea of what the brand’s ready-to-wear line should look like. For a consecutive season now, it’s more of an after-thought of his haute couture that was forced to be less in-your-face, more “commercial”, but at the same time still look flashy and rich. In a way, Schiaparelli ready-to-wear is giving Olivier Rousteing Balmain or something Alexandre Vauthier-ish. Paris is overfilled with fashion like this, and Roseberry’s is just adding up to that certain not-so-niche niche.
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Something was definitely off about this Balenciaga outing by Demna. Not in a conceptual or ironic way – this would be make the collection spark with the designer’s signature knack for disruptiveness. What worries me is spring-summer 2025’s flatness of meaning behind the clothes. The models – who walked on an extra-long, wooden table – opened the show with lingerie, which was actually an illusionist layering of bras and garters on flesh-colored body stockings. Then, the collection shifted to Demna’s well-known twisted take on streetwear. Shrunken polos, garments made out of stitched together hoodies, well-worn baggy jeans… we all know this story. The finale was about eveningwear that was totally mild and whatever. The show was accompanied by a remix of Britney Spears’ “Gimme More“, the ultimate anthem of over-consumption of mass media and pop culture. When I heard it, my first thought was: Demna’s exhausted. We kind of all are.
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I found Alessandro Michele‘s runway debut for Valentino a disappointment on many levels. I don’t get the reasoning behind sending down the runway over 80 looks that are so terrifically archaic and deadly retro. Yes, it’s Michele’s prime aesthetic, but it can easily (and quickly) get exhausting. Near the end of his tenure at Gucci, you literally felt an overdose of nostalgia. I really hoped Michele would channel his quirk for the past it in a contemporary-looking way. Let’s remember his Gucci debut was an unexpected gender revolution. But at Valentino, he totally missed the opportunity to show a breakthrough. Also, what’s the actual point of remaking Valentino Garavani’s 1970s and 80s garments in 2024? First, there’s a vintage market for that. Second, it looks absolutely stuffy and dusty without even a drop of irony in the styling.
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In his 10th anniversary show for Loewe, Jonathan Anderson wasn’t looking back at his all-time hits. It’s Jonathan: he’s a designer that is always looking forward. The delightfully surreal, but not overly on-the-nose collection began with a bouncingly light, flowered, off-the-shoulder crinoline dress. Corseting-free and hands in pockets, the look – which reappearead a couple of times in the show – felt absolutely contemporary and cool (unlike the stuffy prettiness at Alessandro Michele’s Valentino debut). Anderson finds sheer pleasure in messing with classicism. References to classical composers and painters on T-shirts – made in feathers – pictured Mozart, Chopin, Bach, Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, and a Manet soldier boy. “I like this idea that they’re kind of like pinup rock stars,” Anderson said. “Like when you go to a museum or you go to a concert: experiential things that you want to take a memento of with you. The idea that music reminds us of moments in our lives.” Then there were his multiple reimagined French golden age couture dresses, all hoops and semisheer flower prints and trapeze-line silhouettes abbreviated to very short minis. Worn with sneakers, there was nothing fussy about his take on eveningwear. Again, a contemporary feel that many, many designers had a hard time grasping this season.
And to celebrate Jonathan Anderson’s victorious decade at Loewe…
Miu Miu‘s spring-summer 2025 collection was a post-post-modern collage of various notions of femininity, seen through the lens of Miuccia Prada‘s absolutely distinct Miu-isms. This girl was certainly interrupted – the Miuccia way, with styling help of Lotta Volkova. To start, there were underthings worn as outer things, such as white cotton slips; some had graphic sequined embroideries. Sporty track separates and cutout bathing suits were also in the mix, along with private-school uniforms 1970s-ish geometric prints lifted from a spring 2005 collection (that’s the thing about Prada: 20 years later, her concepts feel like new). It was a wild juxtaposition of things that don’t belong together yet somehow work together. Western belts and waitress dresses, well-worn shirting and sporty bikini tops… but in the end, there was method to this chaos. And then you had Willem Dafoe closing the show.
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