What truly defines the purpose of women’s fashion? Is it meant to empower us, allowing for self-expression and growth? Or does it, perhaps, exploit our insecurities, attempting to sculpt our place in the world through fabric and trend?
These very questions echoed throughout Paris Fashion Week, which featured collections that seemed to conceal, restrict, silence, or even diminish the women wearing them. We saw designs that rendered women alien-like or relegated them to symbolic aprons. Some styles hinted that suffering and confinement were prerequisites for engagement, casting a dystopian shadow over an otherwise celebrated season focused on emerging designers. Despite the buzz, the implicit message about women conveyed by these clothes was unsettling and impossible to disregard.
At Courrèges, designer Nicolas Di Felice’s elegant collection, inspired by the sun and rising temperatures, featured many models with covered faces. While the coverings might have been intended as protection, the underlying message that a woman needs to hide was deeply troubling.
Thom Browne presented a narrative of extraterrestrials arriving on Earth, manifesting in elaborate, layered, oversized suits that occasionally featured extra appendages. These designs transformed the wearer into a decorative art piece rather than a human. Although his iconic tailored suits—in various plaids, chiffons, and intricate beadwork—were also present, the ‘women-from-another-planet’ ensembles significantly overshadowed the more functional designs that allowed for unrestricted movement.
This trend followed the “cocoon” bodysuits at Alaïa, which confined the arms, and the bizarre mouth guards at Maison Margiela that distorted faces into forced grins. Furthermore, Alessandro Michele’s otherwise improved Valentino collection, featuring sophisticated velvet pencil skirts and silk blouses, was undercut by models appearing alarmingly thin, almost starved.
This oversight wasn’t isolated. The body positivity and size inclusivity once championed by fashion have largely vanished from runways, with the notable exception of Matières Fécales. This brand, founded by Hannah Rose Dalton and Steven Raj Bhaskaran, sought to subvert conventional beauty standards by dressing diverse body types in classic silhouettes. However, their mission was compromised by presenting these models in shoes so uncomfortable and poorly fitted that walking became a struggle.
Such imagery disseminates into the world unfiltered, interpreted and absorbed in ways far removed from the controlled environment of a fashion show. For designers to ignore the messages their creations send is, at best, a display of willful ignorance, and at worst, disingenuous and potentially harmful.
After his Jean Paul Gaultier show, which featured quirky rave-wear including a bodysuit designed to mimic a man’s physique on a woman, Duran Lantink remarked, “I don’t want to get political because it’s a dangerous thing to do nowadays.” Yet, the very act of creating clothing that allows women to express their identity is inherently political.
Miuccia Prada demonstrates a clear understanding of this, transforming her Miu Miu line into a profound exploration of women’s daily attire, recontextualized and empowered through fashion. This began post-pandemic with office uniforms deconstructed into provocative sets, followed by bullet bras reimagined as feminist armor. For her latest collection, Prada focused on aprons, which she described as symbols of “the real difficult life of women in history, from factories to the home.”
However, unlike her previous collections, the apron concept—despite being layered over visible undergarments or adorned with jewels—didn’t quite transcend its origins. This might be because aprons continue to evoke themes of economic disparity and the “tradwife” movement, making them awkward choices for high-end fashion.
Ultimately, the most impactful collections of the season were those unequivocally focused on wearable clothing. These were garments designed for dynamic living and purpose, not merely for marketing hype, fleeting viral moments on social media, or to inflate a designer’s ego.
This emphasis explains the significant impact of Matthieu Blazy’s trend-setting Chanel show. The same can be said for the collections by Dario Vitale at Versace and Simone Bellotti at Jil Sander. Similarly, Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez at Loewe, and Pierpaolo Piccioli at Balenciaga, delivered strong showings. Even Jonathan Anderson’s Dior debut, which balanced practical everyday wear with innovative concepts, resonated well.
It’s also why Daniel Roseberry’s decision to move away from the corset at Schiaparelli was so noteworthy. It’s worth revisiting Lanvin, where Peter Copping presented a beautiful, contemporary interpretation of Art Deco draping, and Dries Van Noten, where Julian Klausner started to define his geometric aesthetic.
This philosophy also explains why The Row’s take on layering, featuring Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen’s signature combination of a pencil skirt over a full skirt, multiple button-ups, and three tank tops, felt like a practical approach to daily dressing. Similarly, Michael Rider’s second collection for Celine was captivating, depicting the dynamic energy of Parisian life in the Palais Royale gardens by blending sophisticated trench coats, playful skater dresses, chinos, blazers, and silk scarves.
As Mr. Rider explained after his show, his vision wasn’t about being “the most fabulous person in the room,” but rather about being the individual with the finest coat – a piece that would enable her to confidently navigate her day.
In essence, he focused on creating clothing that empowers women, providing them with the freedom to pursue whatever their day demands.