Pandemic time straight-up stole Michael Kors’s 40th anniversary party back in February 2021. Gone. Vaporized. No champagne, no speeches, no victory lap. So now—half a decade later—it’s 45, and honestly? That feels like something worth lingering on. Only Ralph Lauren and Norma Kamali on the New York Fashion Week calendar have been doing this longer, which is… not nothing. Talking about longevity in the days leading up to the show, Kors shrugged it off in the most Kors way possible: consistency, paired with inconsistency. Which sounds like a contradiction until you realize it’s basically been his whole deal.

He sees himself in New York—his adopted hometown, his muse, his emotional support city. “New York is about resilience, strength, grit, and curiosity,” he said. And yes, obviously, glamour too. For the occasion, he went big: the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center, chandeliers glowing, gold-leaf ceiling catching the last of the twilight. All of it shimmering slightly harder when you remember those massive Chagall murals are currently being discussed as potential sell-offs to keep the institution afloat. Glamour, but make it fragile. Very New York.

The clothes did exactly what he promised: classic Kors, but nudged just far enough forward. Tailoring was everywhere—because of course it was—but for fall 2026 it loosened up, moved differently. Crisp jackets and pants softened into motion. A gray flannel blazer sprouted these trailing, bias-cut… things (no official name, just vibes), giving it unexpected drama. What looked like trousers from the front revealed themselves as a skirt—with a train—when the model turned around. A little reveal moment. A little wink.

And yes, there were feathers. There were paillettes. But not where you’d expect. Instead of dripping them over slinky gowns (he’s never really been that guy), Kors scattered them across T-shirts, button-downs, pleated pants. High meets low, plush meets practical, all rolled into one outfit—the thing he’s arguably done better than anyone else for decades now. That, and the one-liners.

Looking back on 45 years, Kors said his most-used building blocks have been black turtlenecks, camel coats, white shirts—and maybe black dresses. “It would be a battle royale between that foursome,” he joked. They were all here tonight, though some of the turtlenecks revealed themselves to be dickeys. A trick. A cheat. “I love layering without making people feel heavy,” he explained. And it showed—nothing weighed down, nothing overworked.

Certainly not the after-party, which landed at PJ Clarke’s like a victory lap with better lighting. Rufus Wainwright sang New York State of Mind—released in 1976, making it five years older than the Michael Kors label itself. History looping back on itself again. And in a moment that felt both totally sincere and totally on brand, Kors told the room, “45 years in, I still feel like a kid.”

Honestly? It showed.