At New York Fashion Week Fall 2025, Tory Burch unveiled a collection that reimagined American sportswear with inventive twists. Held at the Museum of Modern Art, the show featured models descending a grand staircase to an eerie techno soundtrack, setting a dramatic tone.
Zankov’s approach to design remains steadfastly his own—no moodboard theatrics, no blatant references, just pure, distilled craftsmanship. His Fall 2025 collection was yet another masterclass in color, texture, and technique, a signature triptych that continues to define his brand. There were whispers of Warhol’s Factory, but only in the most elusive, ephemeral way—quarter-sized paillettes on sweaters and skirts, shimmering beneath plush coats, conjuring an Edie Sedgwick night out at Paraphernalia before vanishing into something entirely Zankov’s.
Johnson Hartig’s fall collection came full circle—literally—when he unearthed watercolor sketches he had stashed away two decades ago, originally inspired by Sonia Delaunay. In a moment of cosmic coincidence, Delaunay is currently enjoying renewed attention, with exhibitions at Bard and the Guggenheim—though Hartig only realized the connection after committing to the theme. His vibrant, expressionist prints adorned jackets trimmed with candy-colored marabou, glittering crystal embellishments, and a knockout pair of Larroudé boots. The designs even translated into grayscale knit separates, proving that Libertine’s signature maximalism can take on many forms.
New York Fashion Week Fall 2025 kicked off with bold statements and sharp contrasts. Brandon Maxwell redefined American sportswear with sleek tailoring and effortless elegance. Collina Strada turned rebellion into fashion, blending florals, camouflage, and exaggerated movement. Khaite balanced cinematic drama with everyday wearability, delivering sharp silhouettes and strong tailoring. Ulla Johnson elevated her earthy aesthetic with crystal embellishments and electroplated floral accessories. Christopher Cowan embraced the avant-garde, turning chewed gum and high heels into statement pieces. Monse stayed true to its deconstructed, asymmetrical edge. Three days in, NYFW is proving that fashion’s future is as rebellious as it is refined.
Ah, the white shirt—so deceptively simple, yet a mainstay of wardrobes from Milan to Tokyo, a garment that claims purity but is as laden with history and artifice as any Balenciaga runway show. It’s the great equalizer of fashion, effortlessly transitioning from the pressed perfection of Brooks Brothers to the disheveled charm of a Comme des Garçons deconstruction, all the while maintaining that aloof stance of something both crucial and utterly indifferent to the whims of trends. One might think of it as the Big Mac of garments—ubiquitous, reliable, but with the potential for gourmet refinement (even if, sometimes, it's best enjoyed as is, ketchup dripping, no curation necessary).
Now *that* was a spectacle. We had naive innocence, angsty rebellion, villains, mermaids, princesses, lightning bolts, fireworks, rats, and even Kylie Jenner. For the brave, the afterparty included a chance to ride Hyperspace Mountain (which was *epic*). As I reluctantly left Disneyland Paris at the stroke of midnight, the techno beats still reverberated through the Magic Kingdom. Fashion Month always feels like stepping into an alternate reality, but this was a whole new level of surreal.
Ghesquière took us on another of his signature journeys through time, this time landing in the Renaissance—a period he feels deeply connected to, having grown up in France's Loire Valley, home to many historic chateaux. The collection kicked off with jackets featuring puffed sleeves, cinched waists, and peplum hems, but paired with modern biker shorts and chunky leather sandals, they were firmly rooted in the present. The coats, traditionally heavy in that era, were reimagined in a much more flexible and lightweight form.
"We're in the 'endcore' now." That’s what greeted me when I scanned the QR code on the newspaper sitting on my seat at the Miu Miu show. After a full month of fashion shows, it took something special to grab my attention, and *Endcore* managed to do just that. The essay, written by Shumon Basar, author of *The Extreme Self* (2021), dives into questions of individuality—or the modern lack of it—echoing themes explored by Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons at their recent Prada show in Milan.
Chanel made its return to the Grand Palais after a four-year hiatus, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Sunlight streamed through the newly restored glass ceiling, giving an extra shimmer to the embroidered tweeds worn by many of the clients present. It felt like a reunion for the fashion house’s loyal following, who busied themselves with selfies and compliments, seemingly unfazed by the still-vacant creative director position that has been stirring up quite a bit of chatter in the fashion world since New York Fashion Week kicked off.
Just before the show kicked off, a voice with an Australian accent came over the PA, advising us to keep our essentials close and stow anything bulky in the overhead compartments. The first looks featured sporty, piped viscose suits with utility accents, paired with chic pillbox hats in Pan Am blue that obscured the eyes, beehive wigs, and metallic scarves twisted to give off a whimsical *Petit Prince* vibe.
