A grand Georgian façade, faux railings, Richard Quinn engraved above the door like it’s always been there. A fantasy in bricks and mortar. This winter’s set wasn’t just escapism—it was a scene. “It’s after midnight, the end of a private black-tie party,” Quinn explained, setting the tone like a director calling action. “Maybe it’s a pre-wedding dinner, maybe it’s the day after—and the guests are leaving. It’s snowing. The moon is up.”

Cue the procession. A monochrome dream of 1950s and ’60s haute couture silhouettes—corseted bell skirts, draped panniers, sculptural necklines, satin bows affixed with corsages, embroidery twinkling like frost in the falling snow. For a designer so synonymous with riotous florals, it was almost shocking in its restraint. No print? Well, not none. Some cabbage-roses made a cameo toward the end, but the point was clear: this was a different kind of decadence. “I thought about the tuxedo suit,” Quinn said, “the idea of black and white, black and ivory—doing it in a way that feels very chic, very elegant, but isn’t just a dinner jacket.”

And then, the brides. White tulle veils pinned to the backs of glossy heads. The final scene: a tableau vivant, every model standing at a window, watching the night.

For all his fairytale romanticism, Richard Quinn’s actual house is a real one. South London, fully staffed, thriving. An atelier, a bridal business, a showroom for private fittings, a team of craftsmen working on demi-couture commissions. His clients—rich, international, some wearing his work in the front row—know the drill: “It’s end-to-end service now,” he said. “We’re flying people around the world directly, but everything’s made here. Well, except the embroideries—those are in India.” And out front? The Richard Quinn printworks, servicing designers big and small.

It’s a funny thing: people love to talk about how young London designers are too small to scale, too niche to be viable. But here’s Quinn, operating in the long tradition of British court dressmakers—think Bellville Sassoon, Victor Edelstein—the ones who dressed Diana and the ‘society’ set. A business built on beauty, with the infrastructure to back it up.

And yet, even with all that, the show still matters most. “I want to do shows that look like they could be in Paris. But I don’t want to be in Paris,” Quinn said, with that very British mix of pride and stubbornness. “I’m born in London, I’m London-based, London-centric. It’s about doing something really special here—amplifying it to the world, but keeping it home.”