Paris Fashion Week kicked off with Saint Laurent’s runway show, dramatically staged on the Trocadero plaza with the glittering Eiffel Tower as a backdrop.
For the event, an elaborate garden was built on a raised platform, boasting thousands of blooming white hydrangeas meticulously arranged to form the iconic YSL logo. Faux-stone benches and additional foliage dotted the area, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of Paris’s famous manicured parks, like the Tuileries or Luxembourg Gardens — but this one was a bespoke, fleeting creation for a single evening.
Attendees, instructed to arrive early, dutifully streamed in, maximizing the pre-show moments to capture selfies against the stunning backdrop until dusk. They waited, their anticipation slowly turning into fidgeting. Forty minutes past the scheduled start, Madonna finally made her grand entrance with her daughter Lourdes. Shortly after, between the hydrangeas, a show-stopping pussy-bow blouse, black leather motorcycle jacket, and a sleek black leather pencil skirt emerged — a direct homage to YSL’s 1970s and early ’80s aesthetic, balancing on the edge of fetishwear and refined elegance.
A decade ago, this combination of fantastical staging, celebrity presence, and archival deep-dives guaranteed a magical experience. However, as a parade of leather pieces with exaggerated shoulders, dramatic white blouses, sharp stilettos, and sunglasses, alongside flowing nylon raincoats reminiscent of the haute bourgeois Saint Laurent of yesteryear, flowed onto the runway, the collection felt largely outdated. The grand finale, featuring voluminous ruffled evening gowns with colossal puffed sleeves, empire waists, and sweeping trains, all updated in parachute nylon, offered a refreshing surge of energy—like a rebellious procession of modern-day infantas.
Yet, with all that elaborate fabric and excessive fussiness, one couldn’t help but wonder: who is this woman being dressed?
Fashion finds itself on a precipice of relevance, threatening to plunge into obsolescence. Simply reinterpreting past groundbreaking styles isn’t enough; time has assimilated them into the mainstream. In these times of global anxiety—marked by political turmoil, labor disputes, and international conflicts—repeatedly cycling through familiar aesthetics and clinging to nostalgia might offer a tempting escape, but it ultimately renders the entire industry increasingly detached and stagnant. While luxury fashion has always operated within its own elevated sphere, with designers perpetually chasing “the dream,” in today’s world, this approach feels more insubstantial than truly inspiring or influential.
Notably, Nicolas Ghesquière, Louis Vuitton’s artistic director for women’s wear, presented his collection within the opulent private apartments of Anne of Austria at the Louvre. Here, he unveiled a lavish, supremely comfortable vision for dressing at home, a sanctuary from the world’s harsh realities.
The collection featured ultra-soft bathrobe coats paired with equally gentle suiting (even the corsetry was crafted from soft knits). Flowing onesies appeared with coordinating turbans, evoking the image of hair freshly wrapped in a towel after a luxurious bath. Crystal-adorned wraps, seemingly made from cozy shearling, were actually silk so meticulously brushed that it mimicked the texture of fur. Even the footwear emphasized comfort, with tapestry slippers and soft lace-ups completing the looks.
This wasn’t just loungewear; it was an opulent statement for the ultra-elite. Staging the show in a museum was perhaps more symbolic than intended. While the implied message might be that these garments are high art—or at least a form of decorative art (and indeed, many, like the brushed silk pieces, embody this)—the unintentional subtext is that they risk becoming mere relics of a bygone era.
A critical question looms over every collection: how can fashion genuinely connect with the urgency of the present, reigniting enthusiasm among a distracted, jaded, and anxious populace for the transformative power of clothing?
Ironically, a potential answer to this dilemma might be found in a completely different kind of presentation: the new “Virgil Abloh: The Codes” exhibition at the Grand Palais. This immersive show explores the legacy of the late Virgil Abloh, former Louis Vuitton men’s wear designer and Off-White founder, marking the first major initiative from Virgil Abloh Securities, a foundation established by his wife, Shannon, to preserve his work.
Shannon Abloh noted that the exhibition’s opening coinciding with Fashion Week was a happy accident, driven by gallery availability. “It felt like he was up there, saying, ‘Of course, I’m going to do Fashion Week this week,'” she remarked, capturing the spirit of his enduring influence.
Curated by his long-term collaborators Chloé and Mahfuz Sultan, the exhibition offers an intimate journey into Abloh’s universe. It begins with a recreation of his Louis Vuitton office, featuring his massive desk laden with DJ equipment. The display includes hundreds of his iconic Nike sneakers, vibrant graffiti art born from an impromptu session with Playboi Carti, and a testament to his philosophy of relentless experimentation. The overall atmosphere pulsates with an almost electric vitality.
This palpable energy likely explains why a pop-up store, a collaboration with Sarah Andelman (the visionary behind the former Colette concept store), located at the exhibition’s entrance, was swarming with eager visitors on opening day. Driven either by a desire for a tangible memento or a shrewd investment in future resale value, attendees rapidly acquired Abloh-related merchandise. Items like the comprehensive Assouline book chronicling his Louis Vuitton work and reissued pieces from his numerous collaborations, such as a mini-alarm clock with Braun, flew off the shelves, with the clocks almost entirely sold out within the first few hours.
Observing the fervent crowd at the cash register, Ms. Andelman quipped, “I keep hearing about the death of retail, but this certainly doesn’t look dead to me.”