“Less I, More Us.” The phrase was stenciled right there on the runway, and echoed again on the webbing of bags—like a mantra you were meant to absorb whether you wanted to or not. And sure, on the surface, Maria Grazia Chiuri’s debut as chief creative officer at Fendi was very much about togetherness. Collaboration. Pluralism. Shared language. But let’s be real for a second: this was also unmistakably a Chiuri show. Calm, controlled, intentional. Less ego on display, maybe—but a very clear hand on the wheel.

Before the show, she kept talking about silhouette. Shape. Structure. And by the time she took her bow, it was obvious she wasn’t just redrawing the outline of the clothes—she was quietly redrawing the outline of Fendi itself.

The boldest—and most telling—move was fur. Fendi is fur. That’s the foundation. And yet for years, the brand’s relationship with it has felt cautious, almost apologetic, depending on the market. Chiuri didn’t hedge. She leaned in. Hard. Fur was everywhere: trims, collars, fringes, stitched into gilets, trenches, and a long black leather coat made of hand-cut floral pieces sewn together like lace. There was no missing where this brand comes from.

Interestingly, the most extravagant, trophy-level furs went to the men. A fox-heavy throwback here. A long-haired green-dyed blazer there. A shaggy patchwork mix that felt almost confrontational. One women’s jacket took a different route—fur scraps stitched into a kind of woodland camouflage—which introduced Chiuri’s new Echo of Love project. The idea is deeply personal: clients can work with the Fendi atelier to reimagine furs they already own. Not new acquisition, but emotional durability. Memory embedded in material. “I have pieces that are important to me because they remind me of moments in my life,” Chiuri said. “The link with the object is very personal.” Which feels especially resonant right now, as vintage fur has quietly crept back into the wardrobes of younger generations in cities like New York. This didn’t feel reactionary—it felt… inevitable.

There were other personal, almost intimate gestures threaded through the collection. Detachable collars—white cotton, black leather, black fur—immediately called to mind Karl Lagerfeld’s famous Hilditch & Key shirting. A tribute, yes—but also a statement. In this coed show, only women wore them. Say less.

Collaboration played out more overtly too. Artist SAGG Napoli brought her “South Aesthetics” into the mix through fur football scarves and T-shirts declaring allegiance to the five Fendi sisters—under whom Chiuri worked in her first decade at the house, back in the ’90s. The slogans hit like quiet affirmations: rooted but not stuck, volcanic but not destructive. Another collaboration, this time with the estate of Mirella Bentivoglio, resurrected her jewelry and graphic works—used on T-shirts—to explore the gendered weight of language itself. Subtle. Sharp. Still relevant.

Bentivoglio’s subversive play between subject and object felt especially aligned with Chiuri’s decision to place men in the most conspicuously “prized” pieces. But beyond swapping who wears what, she was clearly building a shared grammar. Certain looks appeared twice—on men and women alike. Double-breasted notch-collar jackets. Strap-fastened single-breasteds. Double denim. Donkey jacket topcoats. Not mirrored exactly, but spoken in the same language.

That shared thinking extended to the bags. Chiuri was part of the original team that created the Baguette, and selleria—Fendi’s leatherwork tradition—is the house’s other cornerstone. She returned to the original philosophy: embellishment through craft. Beading. Fur. Techniques pulled from across the atelier. The Baguette also gained a second strap, making it easier to sling across the body—small change, big impact.

Silhouette-wise, the shape Chiuri kept sketching looked almost like an X—deep V necklines creating negative space, balanced by skirts and jackets that flared outward. If you’ve followed her work at Valentino and Dior, you’ll recognize it immediately. Less I. More Us. But still—very her.

“I’ve received such a nice welcome here,” Chiuri said afterward, naming Paula, Anna, Silvia, the family, the people she remembers from her early years. “When people are so welcoming, you feel that you want to give back.”

And that’s what this felt like. Not a takeover. Not a rupture. But a careful, confident return—bringing the house with her, not dragging it along.