Max Mara Fall 2026

We talk about the “Dark Ages” like they were this murky, backward blur. Pre-social media fashion energy, honestly—no documentation, no receipts, just vibes and assumptions. But Ian Griffiths—who has been designing at Max Mara since 1987, which in fashion years is basically medieval—recently visited Sutton Hoo, that ancient Anglo-Saxon burial site in England. And it rattled him. In a good way. He said he was struck by the beauty of the objects. The craft. The durability. The fact that something we dismiss as “dark” was actually… luminous. Careful. Considered. Made to last. “They really weren’t so dark at all,” he said. And you could feel the subtext. We overlook things that aren’t loud. We confuse discretion with dullness. We move on too fast. Which, honestly, feels very Max Mara.

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THIS BAG WEIGHS MORE THAN MY EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE!!!!
Small bags had their moment. They were cute, they were curated, they held… nothing but delusion and a lip gloss. This Autumn/Winter? We’re carrying everything.

THIS BAG WEIGHS MORE THAN MY EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE!!!!

There’s a kind of poetry in the way we’ve all collectively decided that small bags are, frankly, over. Too delicate. Too curated. Too “I only carry my keys and confidence.” This season, the pendulum has swung hard in the opposite direction—toward the Maxi Bag, that unapologetically oversized emblem of chaos and chic practicality.

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Max Mara Fall 2025

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“I was trying to strike a balance between Jane Eyre’s iron-willed restraint and Catherine Earnshaw’s untamed, wind-swept ferocity—to find a woman who exists somewhere between these two emotional extremes.” That was Ian Griffiths’s pre-show thesis for a Max Mara collection that sought to bottle the stormy, windswept romance of the Brontëan heroines—high drama, but make it wearable.

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White shirt ‘Again’

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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).

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