At Chanel's second showing of its latest Métiers d'Art collection, held at Seoul's Centre Pompidou Hanwha, front row guests and online commentators expected to obsess over details like a sequin appliqué on a Chanel Maxi Flap bag or silk that perfectly mimicked a pair of faded jeans. By the show's end, all anyone could talk about was a gesture.

As model Sora Choi lapped the museum in a flapper-inspired white dress, the same Chanel look recently worn by Marie Claire cover star Ashley Graham—and two-strap sandal heels, her hands rose to cradle her midsection—universal shorthand for "I'm pregnant." Shortly after, her mid-runway pregnancy reveal lit up industry accounts like @hautelemode. General observers around the world were all awed by Mom's graceful announcement and Baby's future closet. "Baby's first Chanel!" the comments screamed. For me, a fashion editor who frequently reports on runway size inclusivity and a first-time expecting mother myself, there was much more to Chanel casting a pregnant model than a very chic baby on board.

Bodies beyond a sample size are increasingly rare on fashion's most prestigious runways. At the Fall 2026 fashion shows, non-straight size casting hit an all-time low. In this world, women who are pregnant might as well not exist. Inclusivity stats tabulated by Vogue Business each season don't include pregnancy because it's flat-out not included in high-fashion casting. Maternity clothes, at Paris or Milan Fashion Week? It's too groundbreaking for most labels to fathom. Never mind that expecting moms, like every other demographic within womanhood, could be a potential customer for the label. And, models have just as much freedom to become mothers as any other woman working in fashion.

When women who are expecting do turn up at a glossy fashion show, it's often a one-off. Someone with a big name makes a reveal, like Jasmine Tookes' at the 2025 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, without another casting to follow it up.

The first major exception to the rule takes shape at Copenhagen Fashion Week's primarily women-led calendar, where I've observed moms-to-be walking the runways each season alongside models of varied body types and physical abilities. (Inclusive casting is written into the event's requirements, unlike other markets.) And now, there's a second exception: Chanel.

Choi, it turns out, isn't the first model to display a changing pregnancy body on a Chanel runway this spring. In late April, Kaya Wilkins modeled Chanel's Cruise 2027 collection with her bouclé jacket fully unbuttoned, highlighting her five-month bump beneath a black bralette. At the time, she told Vogue her child was "the world's youngest runway model." And, more tellingly, that the Chanel team had sought out a mom-to-be to spotlight its latest collection: "Matthieu [Blazy] and Anita [Bitton], the casting director, were looking for someone pregnant, so I was quite lucky to have a little bump on me," she said.

Wilkins and Choi's back-to-back castings are part of a broader expansion of who gets to be a Chanel woman, both on and off the runway. Since joining the house almost one year ago, creative director Matthieu Blazy has emphasized castings that break away from the predominantly young, white, and thin mold that defines the industry overall. Mature models in their 50s and 60s, like Stephanie Cavalli, appeared in the Fall 2026 and Haute Couture runways. Bhavitha Mandava, an NYU Masters student, was plucked off a subway platform to open the 2026 Métiers d'Art show—the first Indian model to do so. (Chanel did not reply to a request for comment elaborating on their recent castings; this story will be updated if they do.)

These runways aren't perfectly representative of real life, but they paint a broader picture than eras past. In an interview with The New York Times, discussing age inclusivity, Blazy said mature models "bring a completely different dimension to the clothes." Meaning age isn't the disadvantage the fashion industry implies it is; it adds character and depth to the styling. The same can be said for bringing expecting mothers to the runway.

These days, the women modeling Chanel's latest collections are earning as much hype as the It bags and pony hair flats. They're a sign that fashion can reflect the realities of womanhood without giving up the luxury fantasy of a far-flung show and expertly crafted materials. Suddenly, I'm expecting a lot more out of other runways' casting.

Editor's note: This post has been updated.

My watch began four months ago. Mid-way through the 2025 Fashion Awards red carpet, a slate of A-listers including Emily Ratajkowski and Amelia Gray arrived wearing sleek party dresses I immediately wanted to shop. Unlike other glitzy outfits a few steps away, I learned I actually could copy these exact looks in a few months' time. They weren't wearing out-of-reach, custom couture; they came from the H&M x Stella McCartney collaboration.

All these weeks later, the retailer is back with an update. H&M x Stella McCartney's entire lookbook and 61-piece lineup is available to shop today, May 7. Now, I can actually purchase the one-shoulder mini dresses, fluid trousers, and statement bags hailing from the collection. It's felt like ages to see it all come to life, but I should clarify: My wait is nothing compared to two decades that culminated in this limited-edition H&M collection.

Stella McCartney was H&M's second-ever designer collaborator, back in 2005. In the twenty intervening years, the retailer has gone on to partner with the likes of Magda Butrym (for rosette-topped tanks), Simone Rocha (for pearl-coated headbands and tulle dresses), and Glenn Martens (for freaky, thigh-high boots and trompe-l'œil matching sets). As McCartney's label became more established on the Paris Fashion Week calendar and H&M's reputation for must-buy designer collaborations grew, the idea of a sequel collection seemed even more enticing. (Especially for fashion editors like me, who adored McCartney's experiments with sustainable materials as much as her fresh approach to workwear.)

The two-decade mark struck both brands as a moment to reflect on how much McCartney's label had grown since the first installment. In 2005, her label was only five years old; it was promising, but it wasn't a global powerhouse and leader in eco-conscious design. Now, it has a slate of well-reviewed shows, celebrity fans, and truly signature pieces to its name. (Taylor Swift is one of her biggest supporters.) "I see this collection as a journey through my fashion history," McCartney said in a statement. "It is a true mix of current classics and some of my old favorites that showcase my first forays into fashion and the development of my signatures."

On a first flip through the campaign starring Renee Rapp, Angelina Kendall and Adwoa Aboah, I could see nods to McCartney's namesake brand and her prior tenure as Chloé creative director. There are suits cut in generous proportions and giant, schlep-it-all tote bags; there's a recreation of the "Rock Royalty" T-shirt McCartney created for Liv Tyler's 1999 Met Gala appearance. The Fabella chain, an interlinking hardware detail prominent in most of McCartney's accessories, shows up across jewelry and apparel. All those red dresses from the Fashion Awards are accounted for, too.

Some of the most hype-worthy details are what can't be seen from afar—or even once I style the pieces. According to H&M, the collection places a premium on eco-friendly materials, aligning with McCartney's anti-waste approach to design. (Her collections often include elements like plant-based swaps for feathers and bio-based leather substitutes.) Recycled materials and organic cotton are found in several pieces; when items have a slick coating, it comes from recycled vegetable oil.

"This second partnership feels like a chance to look at how far we've come on sustainability, cruelty-free practices, and conscious designs—and to stay honest about how far we have to go," McCartney said in a previous statement.

The countdown to the year's buzziest collaboration is finally over: H&M x Stella McCartney arrives on shelves and in select stores today, May 7. Now that it's here, I can confirm: My patience was rewarded.

Shop Editor's Picks From the H&M x Stella McCartney Collaboration

Dozens—no, hundreds—of brands are currently filling their shelves with takes on spring 2026's biggest trends, from bandana scarves and bulky jewelry to all sorts of fresh denim. But fashion insiders who want to meet the styling moment aren't shopping just anywhere for their runway fix. They're adding the Zara x Willy Chavarria collaboration to their carts.

Available online Thursday, March 26, and in a Lower Manhattan pop-up experience, Zara's latest collab goes several steps beyond the average mass-retailer-meets-runway-designer link-up. Yes, the pieces distill the renegade energy that has made Chavarria a standout in New York and Paris since 2015 into a "democratic" lineup for women and men. And yes, prices are largely under $250. These interpretations of flowy Bermuda shorts, matching sets, and winter-to-spring cropped jackets will definitely be the envy of many a fashion group chat; the graphic tees are bound to be collector's items. A closer look at Chavarria's influences indicates this must-have drop has more to say.

Chavarria infuses every collection with his Chicano heritage: alongside accolades like a prestigious CFDA Menswear Designer of the Year Award, he's also worked closely with the ACLU and framed recent runways as celebrations of immigrant and LGBTQ+ communities. Teaming up with Zara was never going to be an exception to this ethos. This collaboration is titled "Vatísmo," a term of endearment for friends and loved ones in Chavarria's Mexican-American community. Naturally, the designer's roots are infused in every piece—alongside the upgraded materials like Italian fabrics and genuine leather. The lineup is also billed as gender neutral, so anyone can take part.

While a quick scroll through the lineup reveals the sort of pieces landing in a Spring 2026 runway starter pack—pink slingback heels, a patina-ed east-west bag—these are imbued with energy that extends beyond the season. "I wanted to create things that people will treasure and wear for years and years to come," Chavarria told Vogue. "The quality in these garments is very impressive." See for yourself with the pieces editors are shopping first, ahead.

Shop the Willy Chavarria x Zara Collaboration

Sleeper co-founders Kate Zubarieva and Asya Varetsa know how it sounds: opening their luxury pajama label's first store in Kyiv, Ukraine, four years into the war against Russia, roughly 200 miles from the front lines. "It's not a very good idea in wartime—anybody can say this," Zubarieva tells Marie Claire over Zoom from the Ukrainian capital, sunshine filtering through the windows of the car where she's taking our call. "Anybody can think like this. But not me."

Sleeper is best known for its party pajamas: matching sets trimmed with detachable feather cuffs, often worn by the likes of Selena Gomez, Kendall Jenner, and Kate Moss when they're craving a slumber party twist on going-out clothes. What's often overlooked in references to the insider-approved brand—stocked at more than 30 retailers, including Revolve, Shopbop, and Farfetch, and with placements on shows from Emily in Paris to And Just Like That...—is its Ukrainian heritage.

Sleeper has been headquartered in Kyiv since Zubarieva and Varetsa, former fashion editors themselves, opened the label in 2014. Local artisans spend between six and twelve hours crafting every button-up top and feather-trimmed slipper on the shelves.

So when the duo began considering their first brick-and-mortar presence two years ago, they wanted it to be a tribute to the real community. That is, the local women who are still shopping Sleeper for birthday parties, vacations, and other celebrations that brighten their calendars, war or no war. Zubarieva likens the move to a "Valentine's card" for the city that raised their brand. "This energy, of celebrating life no matter what, is what Sleeper is all about."

“Of course, all the events of the war gave us a reality check,” Varetsa says. “But at the end of the day, if we were ever going to open a store, of course it should be where the product comes from. That was true for us. It would not have been true for us to open our first store anywhere in the world except Kyiv, Ukraine.”

The pair has spent the past several months crafting a space that could only open in their hometown. Located near Kyiv's Golden Gate district, the Sleeper boutique is a "mosaic" of influences that inspired its founders—ones that can't be confused with the interiors of a cookie-cutter boutique in any other European capital. Windows opening to sweet, cornflower blue walls are set with curtains hand-embroidered by a Kyiv artisan. The bright-red floors are a nod to the interiors of a close friend based in Milan. Need a seat between trying on clothes? There's a set of 19th-century, floral chairs from Sweden for making yourself comfortable.

Even in still portraits of the space, Sleeper's store looks like an Old Hollywood boudoir. It's hard to imagine that conflict is raging close to all those fluffy slippers and matching sets—but the founders will be the first to share what they encountered while trying to operate during the war. A two-month renovation on their store space turned into eight, given that so many men who'd normally work construction are currently deployed to the front. A drone strike hit a lighting supplier for the space. (No one was hurt.) Targeted attacks on Ukraine's power infrastructure led to rolling blackouts throughout the winter, so some of the first shoppers at Sleeper's soft launch were assisted by iPhone flashlights.

Through every possible challenge, Varetsa and Zubarieva have given the space's launch their unwavering attention. Clients living through hard times want to feel beautiful, too. "I think that clients feel it—when you really are focused [on giving] them the best service no matter what," Varetsa says. "It's the reality of [operating in] Ukraine."

There's a purpose for Sleeper's customer base who will never get to experience the store in person. For Varetsa, it means "welcoming customers into their home," even if they're only seeing photos of it online. "Most of our clients come from U.S. and Europe, of course, so they might not be able to visit the store itself. But they can taste it [and] they can understand our universe."

Zubarieva and Varetsa have aspirations for Sleeper that any founder would recognize, regardless of where they're based: expanding to department stores or additional standalone locations in Europe when the time is right; keep growing their shopper base in the United States; maybe find another Selena Gomez or Margot Robbie equivalent to keep wearing their designs. But Sleeper's Kyiv store isn't about hitting sales targets or foot-traffic goals (though the founders say both are doing well, so far).

Above all, Varetsa says, the purpose of the store is to give something back to the community that crafts each matching set—something global customers do not always recognize. “Most of the time, people don’t know that we come from Ukraine,” Varetsa says. “Many customers think we’re based in the U.S. We want to keep that little reminder of just how much talent there is here.”

They're still showing up. And they still want moments to dress for and celebrate, like a grand opening.

Fashion group chats woke up on March 17 ready to dissect another unexpected collaboration: John Galliano, former creative director of Maison Margiela and Dior, has landed at Zara for a two-year creative partnership. Anyone thinking the lineup will consist of his greatest hits for those houses will need to think again.

A press release from Zara's parent company, Spanish retailing giant Inditex, stated Galliano's task is to "re-author the brand’s"—that is, Zara's—"archives through a series of seasonal collections." He'll apply a "couture process" to reconstructing pieces from past collections, with the first drop slated to hit stores in September.

Galliano kept further descriptions of the collection vague in an interview with Vogue. The line, he alluded, is "informed by form and proportion [without] falling into any categories. One could safely say it’s beyond gender and beyond seasons.”

Anyone who's proudly sourced a "Galliano-era" Dior saddle bag or worn one of his vintage runway looks on a red carpet felt their ears perk up when Galliano's name re-entered the news cycle—even if it's tied to a global mass retailer. After his tenure at Margiela ended in 2024, Galliano took a two-year hiatus from the fashion industry. Now, he's ready to return: "I just think it’s a very positive thing to be doing at this time, and really sustainable from a creative point of view, which is super interesting to me," her told Vogue.

Meanwhile, Zara, the crown jewel in Inditex's portfolio, is undergoing a makeover. Names like Galliano are expected to boost its standing in the capital-F fashion sphere—and among more affluent shoppers. While the company hasn't been feeling the same economic pressures as other fashion brands—sales continued to grow in its latest earnings report—its reputation for affordable style has been challenged by even cheaper upstarts like Shein. So Zara has combined its seasonal collections with a slow pivot toward luxury-adjacent capsules over the past five years. Past collaborators include Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy's wedding dress designer, Narciso Rodriguez, and Stefano Pilati, an alum of Versace, Saint Laurent, and Prada.

This background makes a Zara x Galliano link-up feel like a reasonable next step in the retailer’s move upmarket. Still, the “archive” language in the press release is what gives the collaboration its intrigue.

Zara has been around since 1975, but pieces from its earliest decades don’t exactly inspire the kind of instant recognition that true fashion archives do. Its more defining legacy may be its twenty-first-century knack for translating runway trends into wallet-friendly pieces—though that, too, could complicate the premise. Is anyone really clamoring for a Galliano reworking of 2019's viral polka dot dress, immortalized by @hotforthespot, or the so-called "recession indicator" utility jackets of the mid-aughts?

Between the dozens of well-reviewed collections on his résumé and the fervor with which celebrities and collectors source vintage with his name on the tag, no one's questioning Galliano's technique or ability. The real question is whether shoppers will feel nostalgic for the Zara pieces Galliano is pulling out from storage—and whether they'll pay a premium for them.

When the lights came up on Paris Fashion Week's final shows, the buzziest model castings weren't Gen Z fresh faces. They were women who had experience developing their taste on and off the runway.

Stephanie Cavalli, a model in her 50s, opened Matthieu Blazy's Fall 2026 Chanel show in a chic quarter-zip and the handbag everyone will be shopping for by September. A day later, Miu Miu populated its vibe-shift collection with the likes of Gillian Anderson and Chloë Sevigny: one on her first runway ever, the latter returning after a 30-year hiatus. They wrapped up a fashion month where mature models in their 40s, 50s, and beyond ruled the call sheet—proof that designers, even in a male-dominated industry, understand that caring about style doesn't have an age limit.

Across the fashion month circuit, mature models seemed more prevalent than ever before. Casting ranged from designers choosing their favorite muses to selecting women who mirrored their store customers (or those in their front rows). At New York Fashion Week, Carolina Herrera's creative director Wes Gordon tapped a range of established creatives, like photographer Ming Smith and artist Amy Sherald. TWP's show the same week had models in their 20s and 50s wearing cozy shawl coats together; Martha Stewart was the guest of honor, taking it all in. Michael Kors and Calvin Klein also reserved some of their most noteworthy looks on the most experienced models. (See: Christy Turlington, 57, in a dramatic sequin gown celebrating Kors's 45th anniversary.)

Broadening the age range on the runway isn't just a nostalgia play, as seen in Demna's stunt-casting of Mariacarla Boscono (45) and Kate Moss (52) alongside several celebrity-turned-models in his first runway outing for Gucci. It's also a sign that luxury players understand the enduring nature of style—and the growth of their customer base. Women across generations can appreciate a handcrafted leather bag, a semi-sheer dress spangled with crystals, or a high-vamp heel. When it's time for those highly-anticipated It pieces to land on shelves, guess who's established enough in their career (or even comfortably into retirement), to actually shop those five-figure pieces at the Paris stores?

Age-inclusive casting has been done in previous seasons, of course. Batsheva Hay exclusively cast models who were at least in middle-age for her Fall 2024 show. Last September at Miu Miu, Anatomy of a Fall star Sandra Hüller opened the runway with a subversive take on the apron dress. What's different for 2026 is that the memo is widespread. Women of varied ages are wearing just as diverse a range of styles; no one's confined to just one dress trend (or matronly set).

But it seems the impetus for representing all the women who could belong to a designer's girl gang stopped at checking their IDs. As Marie Claire has previously reported, size inclusivity has been on the decline for several seasons—even as curve-enhancing hoop skirts and panniers have become a popular motif. For the past two seasons, according to a Vogue Business study, plus-size models accounted for an abysmal less than one percent of runway slots.

Before official statistics on Fall 2026 castings were released, it was already looking like curves were left out of the conversation again. Ashley Graham may have walked Harris Reed's final Nina Ricci show at London Fashion Week, and Devyn Garcia joined the lineup at Hermès, but those shows were outliers. Sure enough: Vogue Business reported March 23 that plus-size representation didn't rise above a single percentage point in any major market. Only 0.3% of total looks were plus-size, and 2.1% were mid-size.

Seeing designers champion models who've been in the business for decades is, of course, something to celebrate. Here's the thing: The arguments they make in favor of expanding one demographic in their line-ups can apply to so many more. After Chanel's January couture show, where several women in their 40s, 50s, and 60s walked the runway, Matthieu Blazy told The New York Times that mature models "bring a completely different dimension to the clothes." Can't the same be said for everyone beyond the usual mold? When everyone's a potential customer, inclusivity shouldn't be an "either-or." It should be a "yes, and."

Editor's note: This post has been updated with Fall/Winter 2026 runway casting statistics.

The sidewalks outside the Grand Palais and Jardin des Tuileries are filling with book totes and pillbox hats. Everywhere you turn, there's a spring 2026 It bag or a just-off-the-runway denim trend. It can only mean one thing: The best Paris Fashion Week street style of the Fall 2026 season is taking shape.

On the international Fashion Month circuit, the outfit ideas worth pinning, saving, and re-creating are almost always saved for last. History is repeating for Paris Fashion Week's Fall 2026 calendar. Dior's latest fashion show started the week strong, helped by guests dressed in Jonathan Anderson's debut collection. Rugby shirts juxtaposed floral skirts and teeny tiny bows dotted the bags—lessons in intentionally mixing up an outfit's vibe everywhere you turn. By Saint Laurent that evening, sleek minimalism in the form of strong-shouldered black jackets and hints of lace took over. (Even on the runway, where Bella Hadid was modeling.) A slate continuing with Cecilie Bahnsen, Schiaparelli, Celine, Hermès, and more guaranteed head-turning moments worth snapping a photo (or several) for later inspiration.

With several more days of shows ahead, photographer Darrel Hunter—also known as @modehunter—is on the scene in Paris to capture the week's top-notch street style. Discover all the best outfits from the Fall 2026 Paris Fashion Week crowds ahead.

The Best Paris Fashion Week Street Style: Day 5

The Best Paris Fashion Week Street Style: Day 4

The Best Paris Fashion Week Street Style: Day 3

The Best Paris Fashion Week Street Style: Day 2

The Best Paris Fashion Week Street Style: Day 1

It’s never a big headline when florals sprout on a spring runway. The botanical motif is as perennial as the brave little crocuses that burst forth from late-winter frost at the end of March. However, Spring 2026 sees a twist on tradition: Last fashion month’s runways were abloom with more artistic, abstract interpretations of florals that actually felt—dare I say it?—fresh.

Mathieu Blazy’s Spring 2026 Chanel debut best encapsulated the season’s futuristic approach to flora. The newly-appointed creative director is a wizard of textile manipulation. (Remember that viral Bottega Veneta’s all-leather jeans and a tank runway look? That was Blazy’s brain at work. ) He flexed his skills by reimagining the French fashion house’s signature camellia motifs, sending out smiling, happy-go-lucky models in ball skirts covered in feathered flowers, naked dresses dotted with beaded blooms, and rosette brooches clipped onto button-downs.

Blazy wasn’t the only designer injecting novelty into the concept of springtime florals. At Dior, Jonathan Anderson showed scruffy knit mini skirts in a soft pink floral print. Dries Van Noten embroidered beaded black garden prints on cropped trench coats, while Altuzarra sewed hundreds of sheer dahlia strips into a beautiful free-flowing gown.

With an emphasis on craft and a departure from kitschy, grandma-esque wallpaper prints, the Spring 2026 collections are a welcome reminder of why fashion finds inspiration in flowers every year. Ahead, see exactly how florals are made to feel anew this season.

3D Appliques

Embrace the detail-oriented, ornate look with a piece embellished with a 3D floral appliqué. Rosette slippers like Simone Rocha's make it easy to add a burst of whimsy into your everyday, while a crystal-encrusted floral mini like Simkhai's is a no-brainer for a formal spring event. (Don't wear the latter to a wedding, though—unless you're the bride.)

Baby's Breath

While some designers turned their Spring 2026 runways into vibrant gardens, others chose a single color for their floral landscapes: white. From lightweight ivory lace mini dresses (Dior and Givenchy) to raincoats with white vines painted on (Simone Rocha), the minimal interpretation speaks to those who prefer a neutral, uncontroversial palette and baby's breath in their bouquets.

Blow in the Breeze

Florals and fringe—why pick one fun fashion detail when you can have both? At McQueen, a black-and-red floral gown was shredded into strips, turning the print into an almost optical illusion. Meanwhile, Sarah Burton's Givenchy distressed an exquisite flower-patterned wrap coat until its hem turned into threaded fringe trim that flounced down the runway. For non-runway models or Very Important Clients, a garden-print ruffle slip or a rhinestone-fringe skirt will work just as well.

Secret Gardens

From low-saturation garden prints and tonal silk jacquards to embossed petals you might miss in low lighting, some designers chose a barely-there, blink-and-you'll-miss it approach to florals. It came as a welcome departure from the loud look-at-me patterns that pop up every spring season and can, occasionally, veer into Easter basket territory. A neutral-toned floral dress or a rosette-studded organza skirt captures the effect well.

Black Buds

Jet-black florals are more fantastical and that much more striking than a rose-pink or soft-lavender display on a print. Try the trend yourself this season with an inky jacquard pencil skirt (a great work wardrobe addition) or peep-toe mesh flats.

You may have come across a nondescript leather sandal with a $690 price tag or, perhaps, a woman named Zoë or Kendall or Jennifer, captured by paparazzi in an absolutely perfect chunky knit. Maybe you saw the TikToks of a line snaking outside a New York City sample sale last fall, where expectant faces melted down over 75-percent-off merchandise that still rang up for triple (or quadruple) digits.

No matter your introduction to the brand, you’ve likely heard of The Row. Over the past two decades, its understated expression of luxury—logoless leather bags, tapered ballet flats, roomy wool coats—has divided fashion into two groups: those who get it and those who don’t. The former includes every major luxury retailer, every A-lister worth following, and the CFDA, which has awarded it seven times in the last 14 years (a sign that the label is taken seriously by the industry’s power players). Most consequentially, you can trace any major trend that has reached mass appeal in recent years, from quiet luxury to jelly sandals, back to The Row. By 2024, the owners of Chanel and L’Oréal had taken on minority ownership, sending the brand’s valuation to approximately $1 billion.

All those bona fides aside, those who don’t get it are justifiably confused. The Row began with two founders who wanted to make the best possible version of a white T-shirt. Those founders, however, were Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen—beloved former child stars then enrolled at New York University—and their tee wasn’t meant for world closet domination. They had their sights set on a client who was as discerning about her fabrics and her client-relations representatives as they were, even at just 18 years old. The brand would stand for quality with a capital Q, releasing a product only when it felt perfect, in a highly limited run. They would price it accordingly: If perfection could be bought, it couldn’t be cheap.

It’s an ethos that has lasted; the company turns 20 this year. For the milestone anniversary, Marie Claire spoke with more than two dozen people with close ties to the brand, from former employees and early retail advocates to long-term clients and the first reporters who ever reviewed its collections (the Olsens, through a publicist, declined to participate in the story, as did the brand itself) to tackle a question entire Reddit threads have yet to satisfactorily answer: How, of all brands, did The Row get so big?

A New Teenage Dream

2005

Prior to starting The Row, the Olsens’ design experience had been limited to a tween collection for Walmart. By 2005, they were ready to start something different: an upscale fashion venture where they would be the designers but not the faces. They officially launched their first collection for The Row (named for London’s famed Savile Row) in 2006. The following year, they attempted to enter the mid-range market with contemporary women’s clothing brand, Elizabeth and James (which exists today as a diffusion line sold only at Kohl’s).

Amanda Mull, journalist for Bloomberg Businessweek: 2006 was a deeply unserious time in American culture, quite frankly. The Olsens had been in the tabloids and in gossip blogs a lot, carrying It Bags of the time—they particularly liked Balenciaga—and it seemed to me their interest in serious fashion was real, but it’s very hard to start a new luxury line. It’s even harder when you have the whole history of celebrity coming along with you.

Julie Gilhart, former Barneys New York executive: We already had a relationship with Mary-Kate and Ashley. I got to know them through the New York store. They were great customers. They were buying the iconic pieces of Nicolas Ghesquière and all the really cool fashion brands. When they decided to do their own collection, it was because they couldn’t find great pieces that support your wardrobe, that you wear over and over again and mix in with the special things you have. They came to the table with a really well honed taste level.

Robin Givhan, author, Pulitzer Prize–winning fashion critic, and contributing opinion writer for The New York Times: That was a period after a lot of really ill-fated celebrity brands. The Row seemed to have been forging a different path as far as what could be produced from designers of this background.

Gilhart: I didn’t have a big belief in celebrity brands because we were so designer focused. We were looking for real talent, and then along come celebrities who put their names on brands. As a courtesy to Mary-Kate and Ashley, because they were great girls and great customers, we took a look. I was fully prepared to say, "Nice but not necessary." I walked into the showroom, and [the line] was subtle, like they are. The quality was beautiful, and the pieces were exactly what they said they wanted to do. It wasn’t trend driven at all.

Neelam Ahooja, content creator: They started with the perfect tees. Oddly enough, I didn’t love them. They were nice, but they weren’t my favorite. I liked the knits right away. It very much felt like Theory or Tahari—but an upscale version. That didn’t really exist back then.

Rickie De Sole, VP, Nordstrom fashion director, and former Vogue editor: I remember the early days, going to those presentations. There was this sense of "come into our home" quiet. It was always about the perfect item—the perfect sweater, that great coat—and that sense of intimacy, walking into their spaces and clocking the art on the wall or the chair that was perfectly placed in the corner. It’s the clothes, but it’s also the world that surrounds it. That’s been true since day one.

Dirk Standen, dean of the school of fashion at SCAD and former fashion editor: I was at Style.com at the time. Pretty soon after launch, we ran a video they had made, set in a house in the Hollywood Hills. It was very grainy footage, sort of Super 8–style. The clothing was pretty simple—a white blazer and a white T-shirt with a deep V and a black pencil skirt—but I remember it had a real sensibility to it. Dare I say, it was a vibe.

Gilhart: It was like the most quiet launch in the history of fashion. We wrote a small order, and it was sold to customers who had no idea it was Mary-Kate and Ashley. They just thought, Oh, this is a nice sweater. It grew from there.

Givhan: What was really interesting to me was the fact that the clothes were aimed at, and enthusiastically supported by, women who were, like, 10 years older than they were at the time. The people who were wearing the clothes were well into their 30s and 40s. It was so unusual because, typically, designers of that age are designing for their contemporaries. Even as they get older, they start looking backward and designing for people who are younger. I was struck that not only were Mary-Kate and Ashley not doing that, but they were very consciously designing for women who were already older than they were, as if they were really celebrating and anticipating the idea of maturity and adulthood and coming into your own.

Growth Mode

2010

The Row’s team stayed focused on basics for the first few years. But rising talents in the industry sensed that something big was happening at the brand’s Greenwich Street offices and sought to leave their mark by joining the company. Soon, its studio became a training ground for emerging designers and an assembly line for It Products.

Ruthie Friedlander, former digital director for The Row: I was working at Chanel, which was, for all intents and purposes, the dream job. Then my boss made an announcement that she was leaving to go work at this brand called The Row, and I rallied to come with her because I wanted to be wherever she was. Plus the idea of being at a luxury brand that was at those beginning stages was really exciting to me.

Sijeo Kim, former designer for The Row and design director for Guest in Residence: I joined The Row as a knitwear designer. Before that, I’d spent three years at Helmut Lang, during which the company went through several internal shifts that made the design direction feel somewhat unclear. I wanted to work for a brand with a stronger, more defined identity, with a clear point of view. The Row offered exactly that.

Standen: The brand had been building in a very thoughtful way for five years, but I think it was really around 2011, 2012 that people realized it was a force to be reckoned with. The more-than-$30,000 alligator bag came out, and then [The Row] won its first CFDA Award.

Mull: What accessories generally do for a luxury brand is give it a wider audience. A lot more people can justify spending that much money on something that they can carry every day. I remember thinking that The Row’s proposition for handbags seemed a little bit ridiculous. When the brand was launching bags, $5,000 was more than what a lot of Chanel bags cost. It was a real statement: We’re sticking to our guns on pricing and what it is that we believe we offer the consumer. If you want it, you’re going to have to pay.

Kim: A major turning point for me was the development of the Sibel sweater. What made it special was that it was fully knitted on a whole-garment machine using a cashmere-wool blend, which was more accessible than the 100-percent-cashmere yarns The Row was primarily focused on at that time. That balance of luxury and approachability resonated strongly with clients who longed for something beautifully made and unmistakably The Row.

De Sole: The clothes have been there since day one, but getting into shoes was really a moment of growth and change. It suddenly became more accessible. Obviously, that’s all relative—I say that with some level of awareness around the price of The Row shoes—but it was a way of buying into the brand. If you couldn’t afford the beautiful trench coat or the cashmere sweater, shoes offered the ability to dabble in The Row. Now shoes are such a part of its DNA.

Givhan: I do remember the season that I went to look at the collection and they showed me the Margaux bag. I thought it was a really beautiful bag—a bit heavy. I feel like I was proven correct, because later iterations were lined in canvas as opposed to leather, which lightened it significantly.

Standen: People used to try to dismiss them as celebrity designers, and that clearly didn’t stick. I do think people, both the consumer who can afford it and the more aspirational consumer, see that The Row is worth it. The quality is there. It’s going to last more than one season. That’s really the core of the appeal. The brand’s had a string of really good designers who have gone on to greater heights. They have a really exacting vision of what they want, and they have the grit to really stick to it. You see the consistency in everything they do. That’s probably a really strong training ground for people to come out with that sense of I want it to be exact, and I’m not gonna be happy until it is. When you create something with that level of integrity, it carries over to the consumer.

Caitlin Burke, stylist: When people want to wear it, it’s because they know inherently it’s signaling that you have a more refined taste. You’re not like a Real Housewife who’s wearing all logos and Louis Vuitton. They want to establish that they’re more edited in their point of view.

Evolving the Experience

2014

By the late 2010s, The Row was ready for rooms of its own. Its first stores opened in L.A (2014) and in New York City (2016), introducing a retail experience that felt more like visiting a friend’s home than going into a boutique.

De Sole: I remember when the Los Angeles store opened; it took the insider experience that we would have at the shows or their showroom, and suddenly you’ve got that as a customer. You were able to walk in and see that midcentury modern space on Melrose and the pool and the beautiful chairs. The customer was able to experience that world of The Row.

Gilhart: The way the brand showed at New York Fashion Week was so luxurious, so sophisticated, and so very über–New York; that very chic, just-so-tasteful type of expression of the really rich. There wasn’t a lot of glitz. There wasn’t a lot of lights, cameras, action! It was just pure quality.

De Sole: I remember sitting with André Leon Talley at a show on the Upper East Side. It had a townhouse venue. It wasn’t as formulaic as some of the shows back in the day. It just felt so different from that and so personal, and that really created this sort of cult around it. It was a special experience to go to a Row presentation or show, and it remains that way to this day.

Givhan: The presentations were always quite small. I recall going to one in a little restaurant, and we were sitting in little banquettes. When the brand went to Paris, shows were always quite intimate. They were never keen on splashiness.

Friedlander: I walked into the job with the approach that if you don’t figure out what you want to do digitally, you could be at risk of other people telling your story. So how do we create your version without being everywhere? This was still the time when it was thought of as crazy to see bloggers at fashion shows. For me, both The Row and its founders are deeply, deeply visual. Instagram seemed like a natural platform to be on. That said, most brands that were doing Instagram were very founder-first and celebrity focused, which is not what they’re like. My challenge was, how do I pitch a strategy that’s going to feel on-brand and not immediately get rejected because the platform is prioritizing the antithesis of what this brand is trying to be? It’s impressive to me that they’ve basically kept the same strategy, to date, that we launched with.

The Popularity Paradox

2019

A turbulent time for retail—including the bankruptcy of Barneys, one of its biggest wholesale supporters, and the Covid-19 pandemic—led to layoffs and a downsizing. But by 2021, The Row’s products were on the radar of celebrities, creators, and consumers. As the spotlight got brighter, though, the brand got quieter: Phones were banned from runway shows, and the already press-shy founders absconded from any public-facing time. It also began attracting criticism from longtime fans.

Burke: Every woman who has taste, if they can financially afford it, has at least something from The Row. It used to be more of an "if you know, you know" brand, but with the boom of quiet luxury, it was the brand most people were talking about.

Ahooja: Around 2020, content creators around the world were starting to wear The Row. They weren’t wearing it head to toe, but they would be incorporating the ’90s bag, the fisherman sandals; we were quietly advertising for them. Then Kendall Jenner stepped out in a head-to-toe look, and I think there was a collective sigh from the loyalists because it put the brand on the page in a more obvious, commercialized way that was sort of the antithesis of what The Row was supposed to be. But if you want to grow, I guess that’s how you do it.

Mull: The Row has been very canny in how it structures its collections and its offerings to make really wearable clothes for people. A lot of brands have abandoned the pursuit of making wearable clothes. But The Row’s getting to the size where it’s a little bit difficult for it to maintain the type of control over its public image that it clearly wants to have.

De Sole: Mary-Kate and Ashley have always been a little elusive. They used to be more present. I remember them coming out at the end when they did the presentations. They’d mingle afterward, and you could ask questions.

Givhan: I went with them to one of their factories, and even though this was for a story, they didn’t want to name where they were producing. At one point, the owner was showing them a sample, and they very quickly whisked it away because they didn’t want it to be photographed. They were always private in that way, always keeping things close to the vest. It’s certainly gotten more extreme. Some of it harkens back to another time, when design houses were not keen on having their entire collection posted online because they worried about people copying it. A lot of those details, their desire for privacy, their desire to maintain control over imagery—all of those things that feel pretentious, to some degree, feel, to me, like they’re trying to keep things at a more human scale.

Mull: I don’t think that The Row is any weirder or pickier about its customers than any other brand. How it has gone about telegraphing its exclusivity—the refusal to deal with the internet, the refusal to make a lot of logo products—is a little more of a commitment to the bit.

Ahooja: I have been close to the company for a long time. It took an interest in my work and pulled me in. I got to see a little too much. You almost don’t want to know, because now I’m having to, in my mind, delineate between craft and company. I value and love the craft. I don’t value the company.

What Comes Next

2026

No one can deny how The Row jump-started a movement toward more minimal design. But what does that mean for its future, especially as consumers move past quiet luxury in favor of more expressive, individualistic fashion?

Tariro Makoni, writer and strategist: The Row is far more powerful than I think it even wants you to think that it is. It has gotten to a point where it doesn’t need to be the loudest, nor does it have to have the SKU that people know is selling out. It just needs to be.

Givhan: The Row contradicted what so many of the early celebrity brands thought, which is that people will come because you’re a celebrity and you will get attention because you’re a celebrity and therefore that’s a good thing. In fact, it’s almost the exact opposite: Yes, people will come because you will be perceived as this curiosity, but you have a much bigger hill to climb. The brand has been giving people a template for how you go about it.

Gilhart: It has a core customer, and she understands the price of things; she’s okay with that, she really likes the style. That’s who it’s catering to. The rest is just noise. It’s a slippery slope because people are more educated about costs, so you have to be sure that you’re pricing items so customers don’t feel like they’re overpaying. The Row’s been able to do that. And because it’s so focused and what it does is quite beautiful, it’s not noisy. It’s like a secret room, and it’s not inviting everybody in. It’s just doing what it does, and that’s the attraction. This is not a strategy—this is how these people are. That authenticity counts for a lot.

Kim: Honestly, my perception hasn’t changed much since leaving, but my relationship to the brand has. When I was there, I focused on doing the work: building knitwear, refining silhouettes, problem-solving in the details. Now I can look at The Row without the weight of deadlines or fittings. I can see the consistency and the quiet luxury from a consumer’s perspective, and I understand why people connect to it so deeply.

Gilhart: In a day when sales are not so great across the board, The Row is still selling.

Mull: The Row serves as a reminder that women want clothes they can actually wear. There’s a real audience for very expensive, very wearable clothing. Fashion brands tend to get so wrapped up in stunts—how many fashion shows and events all over the world a year can we do? The Row, among a few others, has served as a counterpoint. You don’t have to do that. Have a point of view and make clothes that are interesting and made from wonderful materials, the kind of things that somebody with a high budget can get a bunch of actual wear out of.

Standen: Every time, it has proved its critics wrong. It would be sort of foolish to bet against the brand at this point.

Friedlander: The Row was probably the shortest job that I had, from a time-span perspective, and it’s the job I took the most away from. I own my own business now. Next to my desk, I have a note that says, "What would The Row do?"

This story appears in Marie Claire's 2026 Craftsmanship Issue.

After creative director Demna made his debut via a short film and star-studded red carpet premiere in September, Gucci is back on the runway for Fall 2026. But we’re not supposed to call it a fashion show—in a pre-show letter, the designer wrote that he preferred a different classification: a “birthday.”

That’s just the first of several shake-ups anticipated at today’s Milan Fashion Week show. Though his first collection was revealed last fall—and his product begins to arrive in stores—Demna considers today’s runway the real start of his vision. His open letter teeing up the “Primavera” Fall 2026 line (named for the Botticelli painting that inspired the Gucci Flora fragrance) dropped a few more left-turn hints. This Gucci, he teased, is going to get “lighter, softer, more refined.” It’s going to honor Gucci’s history not as a maison, but as a “superbrand” churning out “pragmatic products.” (Reading between the lines, that’s a reference to key items like the Jackie bag and Jordaan loafer.) Most of all, it’s going to treat “Gucci as culture”—whatever that means.

There’s a lot of pressure for Demna’s Gucci to succeed. In an interview with The New York Times, Demna described the mood at the Kering-owned brand as “a little bit hopeless” upon his arrival in 2025. After predecessor Sabato De Sarno’s tenure came and went in the span of two seasons, Gucci fell from its perch at the top of the industry. Share prices declined; so did sales. Demna’s “Famiglia” look book and movie for Spring 2026 were well-received, but the lead-up to this Milan Fashion Week show has courted some controversy—namely because of the AI-generated images promoting today’s collection, which riled up customers and fashion people alike.

One thing’s for sure: This is going to be the fashion show everyone talks about all weekend. With editor-in-chief Nikki Ogunnaike seated front row in Milan, and editors Ana Colón and Halie LeSavage reporting from New York City, trust you’ll find a 360-review of the new collection ahead. Read on for all the celebrities, key looks, and major accessories at the Gucci Fall 2026 show—and, of course, any other birthday surprises Demna has up his sweatshirt sleeves.

Welcome to Gucci Fall 2026! How to Watch the Fashion Show

"The show is just getting started in Milan, with high-profile guests entering a dark, statue filled venue to the sound of string music. Want to see for yourself? It's all streaming on Gucci's YouTube. Of course, you can also stick around here for takes alongside the runway looks." —Halie LeSavage

An Unexpected Gucci Fall 2026 Sighting

"I always love seeing designers going to each other's fashion shows, but this appearance is... intriguing. Alessandro Michele, former creative director of Gucci (now at Valentino), shows up to support Demna's first runway at his former employer." —Ana Colón

A Pro Tip for Watching the Gucci Fall 2026 Livestream

"If you're tuning into the livestream, play attention to the celebrities as they get out of their cars and enter the venue—you might spot my favorite Gucci celebrity: the black- and white-speckled corgi working security. I've been lucky to attend exactly one Gucci show in my life, and that was by far my most exciting sighting." —Ana Colón

More Starry Arrivals at Gucci's Fall 2026 Fashion Show

"Celebrities are trickling into the show venue, and a note on the livestream says the show is beginning soon. Ana tells me Demi Moore (and her dog, Pilaf) are in the crowd—but photos haven't surfaced just yet. In the meantime, I've caught pop singer Kim Petras and Emily in Paris star Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu in the front row." —Halie LeSavage

"Donatella Versace also makes an appearance, dressed in a red coat with big Gucci monogram buttons." —Ana Colón

The First Gucci Fall 2026 Models Come Out Swinging—Bags, That Is

"It's here! Demna is kicking things off with a callback to the fashion shows of yore—and a much more minimal Gucci. Our first look is a white sheath dress, black, pointy pumps, and a Gucci bag—dangling conspicuously off the model's arm." —Halie LeSavage

The Gucci Fall 2026 Runway Gives Us Flashbacks

"Something about the dark, stark, looong runway illuminated by a sharp beam of light, and the models walking out with such personality and movement (in skin-tight white look and black leather accessories), feels so old-school to me (complimentary). I feel like I'm watching FashionTV." —Ana Colón

So Far, So Slick

"So far, so SLICK. Fits tight, clinging close to the body. Heels high and glossy. Real strutting, with bags carried cooly in the crook of the arm or held up at the shoulder like the models have somewhere to be. It feels very stripped back to the irreverent sexiness of the oft-cited and oft-referenced Tom Ford era." —Ana Colón

Demna's Signature Sense of Humor Strikes Again

"The model stopping in the middle of the runway to finish sending a text, then putting his phone back in his Gucci monogrammed belt bag...that actually got a chuckle out of me." —Ana Colón

"Agreed! Demna loves to make a fashion joke (remember his Balenciaga show in LA, filled with allusions to Juicy Couture sweatsuits and Uggs?). I appreciated this moment of levity in a show filled with some serious throwbacks." —Halie LeSavage

At the Gucci Fall 2026 Fashion Show, Models Aren't Walking—They're Strutting

"If I were to guess, the models were giving the directive to walk like they're making their way down a city street—not necessarily in a rush, but not wanting to linger." —Ana Colón

Gucci Fall 2026 Provides Some Serious Déjà Vu

"The leather separates—especially the cropped zip-up jackets with low-rise skin-tight pants—are extremely Tom Ford-for-Gucci coded. These looks were the brand's bread and butter in the mid- to late 1990s." —Ana Colón

"One trend I'm already spotting? A whole lot of '90s low-rises...and some hip cut-outs. I know these will be on the celebrity street style circuit in no time." —Halie LeSavage

A Closer Look at the Gucci Fall 2026 Fashion Show Accessories

"For the accessories obsessives out there, this Gucci collection is so far all about the classics. There have been several looks completed with a black leather bag swinging off the model's arm—set with Gucci's silver horsebit detail, of course." —Halie LeSavage

Let's Talk About the Casting...

"There's been so much talk about the lack of size diversity on the runways over the past few seasons, and sadly this Gucci runway exemplifies it to me—not just because of the second-skin fits of the collection, but because all the models are so similar in thin body type. It's hard for me to ignore because it feels like a step backwards from Alessandro Michele's tenure, when the brand made some strides in opening up its world to a slightly broader audience with its runway and campaign casting. His immediate successor, Sabato de Sarno, didn't have much inclusive casting, either, and this is a symptom of an industry-wide issue, but it's jarring nonetheless." —Ana Colón

Karlie Kloss Makes Her Runway Return for Gucci Fall 2026

"It's been a minute since we've seen Karlie Kloss on an official Milan Fashion Week runway: Most recently, she walked for Schiaparelli in 2024. Now, she's back in the fold at Gucci, where she appeared in a black turtleneck and G-monogram pencil skirt. She wasn't the only friend of the brand who joined the runway: Emily Ratajkowski and Elsa Hosk also made cameos." —Halie LeSavage

Prepare to See These Pants Everywhere

"Oooooh these fully crystal-embellished trousers are going to be #1 on the request sheet for magazine editorials across the globe." —Ana Colón

A Note on Gucci's "Primavera" Inspiration for the Fall 2026 Fashion Show

"It's so interesting that Demna cited Botticelli's 'Primavera' as the inspiration for this collection—I didn't expect him to be super literal, since that's not really his style, but at first (livestream) glance it seems like he's reinterpreting it super, super loosely. Even the draping is extremely minimal and restrained. Perhaps he meant it was more about highlighting the body." —Ana Colón

Gabbriette Goes Gucci for Fall 2026

"She's not 'so Julia' anymore—she's so Gucci. Gabbriette joined the cast in a skintight, semi sheer mini dress and tiny chain bag." —Halie LeSavage

Gucci Fall 2026's Red-Carpet Closer—Featuring Another Big Name

"Demna's initial 'Famiglia' collection had a lot of red carpet-worthy gowns. The final segment of his show continued bidding for awards season placements, with a few floor-length, turtleneck dresses coated in sequins—and slit down the sides to reveal a whale-tail thong in the back. It all wrapped up in a final, black version of this gown, modeled by none other than Kate Moss. It's a fitting way to wrap up: She was one of the key Gucci girls in the Tom Ford era, too." —Halie LeSavage

First Impressions From the Gucci Fall 2026 Front Row, From Our Editor-in-Chief

"It was an incredible show for every kind of Gucci woman, from the rich nonna to the Y2K. lover! I especially can't wait for the bags and boots to hit stores. Those are sure-to-be hits." —Nikki Ogunnaike

Demna Takes His Bow for Gucci's Fall 2026 Fashion Show

"Demna hasn't stepped out to greet his guests at every fashion show in the past. But after Kate Moss's runway walk, he appeared for a quick wave, dressed in his signature all-black. Some things never change, no matter which label you're leading." —Halie LeSavage

Final Gucci Fall 2026 Fashion Show Thoughts

"Yesterday's Prada Fall 2026 show was all about restraint and making outfits last. Only 15 models walked the runway, wearing 60 looks composed by taking off or adding a few pieces. Demna's Gucci debut, on the other hand, leaned all the way into the house's embrace of excess. There were more looks that I could count on the first try, modeled by some of its biggest fans. Even the more minimal silhouettes, like painted-on mini dresses and matching sets, were eventually coated with sequins or topped with a rich-looking fur stole. I saw plenty of Gucci's heritage in the bags and boots—plus those flashes of the signature G-monogram. Is it the hard pivot Demna promised in his show notes? I think that's up to shoppers. But I think we can all agree it was very, very Gucci." —Halie LeSavage

Thanks for Watching Gucci's Fall 2026 Fashion Show With Us!

"The show might have ended, but our coverage of Milan Fashion Week definitely hasn't. I'll be back tomorrow with a dispatch from Louis Trotter's sophomore collection for Bottega Veneta. In the meantime, you can catch up on all of Marie Claire's Fashion Month coverage in our dedicated hub, and see Nikki Ogunnaike's videos from the shows on Instagram. And if you want another serving of Gucci Fall 2026? The show is playing again (and again) on Gucci's website and YouTube. Ciao for now!" —Halie LeSavage

Marni is meant to be a safe haven for the fashion freaks. The brand is both eclectic and chic—the clothing equivalent of the quirky, artsy girl in high school who smiled at you in the hallway but sat with the popular kids at lunch time.

One minute into Meryll Rogge’s Fall 2026 Marni debut, you could tell the newly appointed creative director gets this highly specific POV. The show, presented during Milan Fashion Week, opened with a shredded ivory top coat layered over a three-hole-punched pewter turtleneck and a jet black slip skirt covered in giant, grapefruit-sized pailettes. The look was weird, wonderful, and so very Marni.

For three decades, the Italian fashion house has brought a maximalist perspective to the industry's mainstage. Under Francesco Risso, who sat at the helm for ten years before Rogge joined, Marni pushed color, print, and texture to new frontiers. Canary yellow can be cool. Fur can be draped like silk if you just believe! Remember Hunter Schafer’s floral collaged and sticker dress? That was Marni by Risso.

Rogge—one of the few women currently designing for a luxury fashion house—wasted no time picking up where Rossi left off. The Belgian designer showed butter yellow nylon dresses with bubble hems; flannel boxer briefs fashioned into micro shorts; and multiple riffs on ribbed knee-high socks that looked standard from the shins down, but then transformed into pointed-toe Western booties at the feet. She also sees your sneakerina trend and raises you Frankenstein boots that are a feat of both fashion and science. This is a designer who understands that aspirational luxury fashion can still have a sense of humor, clearly.

You could say that Rogge has been training her entire career to take the Marni reins. She cut her teeth at Marc Jacobs and headed women’s design at Dries Van Noten, two free-spirited brands known for exaggerated proportions and fabulously unexpected color combinations. Her eclectic namesake label, founded in 2020, also regularly sweeps at fashion awards ceremonies. Just two weeks before her Marni appointment last July, Rogge took home the prestigious ANDAM Prize (and the 300,000 euros it comes with) for her funky cutout trousers and double-stacked cardigans.

Moreover, Rogge is an obvious student of the brand. “I’m just trying to do what’s right for this house more than trying to understand what’s been done elsewhere,” Rogge told Vogue two days ahead of her debut collection. “This house always had an independent character, and that’s how we approached it.” The supersized sequins and hole cutouts featured throughout her introductory collection were homages to Marni’s signature polka dot motifs, done the Rogge way. The same goes for her shaggy faux fur outerwear: Marni was originally a fur-only label and an offshoot of founder Consuelo Castiglioni’s family fur business, after all.

It’s a full-circle moment for a brand founded by a female designer to once again have a woman in charge. (Castiglioni launched Marni in 1994 and remained creative director until 2016, when she then passed the baton to Rossi.) Rogge at the helm returns the fashion house to its roots and—hopefully!—signals the start of a domino effect in the industry's hiring practices.

At the very least, it's a natural appointment. Not only can Rogge provide the maximalist punch that gives Marni its juice, but she also has that keen understanding of what women want to wear, which often only comes from being one yourself. Women designing freaky, fun clothes for women? Now that has a nice ring to it…

Marni Fall 2026

In 2004, rich girls "cleaned out Vivienne Westwood in Galliano gowns." Over two decades later, they don't need a head-to-toe designer wardrobe overhaul to look intimidatingly expensive—at least, that's what I took away from Fashion Month's first nascent accessories trend.

From the moment I touched down at Copenhagen Fashion Week in January, I noticed an update to the usually streamlined coats at minimalist labels like The Garment and Gestuz: Where a stark, minimal neckline would usually be fastened with a button, it was hidden beneath an exaggerated fur collar or stole. Sometimes, they were tied with ribbons over crepe and velvet blazers; others, they were detachable. I Slacked my fellow Marie Claire editors with a dispatch on what I have now started referring to as "rich bitch fur collars." Little did I know that, a few days later and several thousand miles later, New York Fashion Week's Fall 2026 runways seemed to have gotten same, not-so-stealth-wealth memo.

Ralph Lauren unofficially opened the week with leopard faux furs draped and belted over tweedy longline coats, like an exaggerated collar. Anna Sui's glamorous salon runway included black, fluffy stoles wrapped over animal print matching sets. Models at Michael Kors shrugged off their mini furs and carried them over a single arm. (The real luxury here was just having the option to wear it.) Meanwhile, outside the shows, street style overflowed with Penny Lane coats and rainbow-hued shearlings, echoing the textured flourishes trending in the autumn collections.

Each fur stole or collar feels like something a grown-up, real-life Samantha Parkington or Muffy Crosswire would wear on a February afternoon shopping at Bergdorf Goodman. Is there enough material to keep you substantially warm? Probably not. Do you have a full range of motion once the more tubular versions are pulled over a bomber jacket (as seen in Copenhagen) or a strong-shouldered blazer (à la New York City)? Definitely not. Do you look like you're a Chase Sapphire Reserve member with an Hermès sales associate on speed dial? One thousand percent.

A real rich bitch doesn't need to do all-over texture. Just a touch of fur over a more neutral coat says plenty about her tax bracket—and discerning taste. Besides, she's not standing outside her town car long enough for a chill to really set in.

It's too early to tell whether designers will actually produce these removable collars and color-coordinating stoles. But if they make it down-market, they're a styling hack that instantly upgrades any outfit. One tie of a ribbon or shimmying on of a stole, and the Aritzia coat I've been wearing for the last five winters suddenly looks a lot more luxurious.

Unlike the color trends and necktie styling taking over fashion month in the present, the window for testing a rich bitch collar is narrowing. By the time the runways wrap in Paris, it'll be warm enough for layering in nothing but a windbreaker. But somewhere out there, the denizens of RichStack and RichTok are making notes for their Fall 2026 outfits. So, if I was a rich girl, I'd see about tracking down my own take now.

A recent Gallup poll found that U.S. optimism about the future at an all-time low. Two months into 2026, people have been dealing with unpredictable tariffs and trade policies. Rising costs of living that stretch nearly everyone thin. Violence against peaceful protestors. Unraveling protections against climate change. Restrictions on freedom of speech. The vibes so far are, to put it mildly, not good.

Naturally, the Fall 2026 runways at New York Fashion Week—the official kick-off to Fashion Month in February—couldn't help but reflect the ways designers are metabolizing the cultural climate. Nearly every show on the condensed calendar had something to say about the role clothes play when it feels like the world is in chaos. The way they each coped with big-picture issues through fashion, though, varied greatly from brand to brand.

It started with a hug—or rather, a series of scarves, shawls, and scarf-coat hybrids swaddling the wearer in velvet and wool, like an incredibly elegant comfort blanket. From TWP's Nantucket minimalist runway to Michael Kors's 45th anniversary celebration at the New York City Opera House, models cocooned to the highest degree, securing their outer layers with antique brooches, to dismiss any Snuggie comparisons. Still, it's hard to view the pieces as anything but taking shelter.

Some designers became more cerebral in how they internalized the present by referencing the past. Marc Jacobs took a self-referential route, resurfacing and slightly tweaking the silhouettes and patterns that defined his tenures at Perry Ellis, Louis Vuitton, and, of course, the earliest Marc Jacobs runways. Calvin Klein looked to its pre-boxer briefs boom in the late '80s and early '90s. Even if the pieces themselves weren't obvious throwbacks or allusions to a "simpler time," they often were informed by something personal—like how Sandy Liang referenced her mother's apron and a childhood bedspread. Tory Burch cut a new version of her father's favorite corduroy pants. Kallmeyer's entire show notes were dedicated to memory—even if, from afar, the collection played back the tailoring she's best known for.

After a triumphant runway debut for Proenza Schouler, Rachel Scott presented the Fall 2026 collection of her first label, Diotima, which more overtly engaged with what's playing out in the headlines. Several pieces were created in collaboration with Refugee Atelier, a group she defined in show notes as "women from across the world whose skills carry their own histories of displacement and resilience." Scott also engaged with the work of artist Wifredo Lam to inform who her woman is right now—someone who "refuses domination," she wrote.

There were also moments where unraveling was the main mode of dress, from distressed shorts and ties at Coach's fashion show to the ripped-up sweaters and decaying corsets at Elena Velez. Instead of retreating from the tumult, punk-rock flourishes suggested embracing it instead.

But the most optimistic takes emerged at NYFW regulars that encouraged their clients to fight back—and gave them the armor to do so. Some houses, like Ralph Lauren, Mel Ursine, and Christian Cowan, mixed Joan of Arc-esque chainmail with their fall riding boots and oversized coats. On Valentine's Day, Khaite displayed several riffs on military jackets, reworking eighteenth century epaulettes and trimmings into heavy-duty leather.

New York City designers have always had a tendency toward modes of so-called "power dressing." This is a market filled with career women who need outfits for their offices and work trips, after all. But the stronger-than-usual shoulders and glints of Camelot metallics said Fall 2026 can't just be a season for retreating into nostalgia and comfort. With critical midterm elections on the horizon, it could be another time for change. So maybe, the answer is to dress like you won't accept defeat just yet.

Editors are as fixated on their sleep schedules as their show schedules during New York Fashion Week. Days start early; nights go late; sprinting from event to event turns even the most comfortable flats and heels into blister factories.

By the time Sandy Liang was set to present her Fall 2026 fashion show in the New York Academy of Medicine's library on the Upper East Side, front-row under-eye circles and whispered pleas for a Lorelai Gilmore-style coffee IV were as common as neck ties and political pins. So, the designer provided guests a look that would wake them right up—or at least speak to the highest-ranking item on their wish lists: a slumber party remix of the slipper shoe trend.

In a bow-laden collection inspired by Marie Antoinette's Petit Trianon (her private chateau on the grounds of the Palace of Versailles), Liang punctuated a few bedrot-but-make-it-fashion sweatsuits with white, fuzzy bunny slippers with a two-ish inch heels.

This turns the page on the slipper shoe trend we saw emerge last fall, when brands like Calvin Klein and The Row presented slip-on mules that attempted to disguise "I hit snooze five times this morning" energy beneath rich, elegant satin and leather. Their takes were much more understated. Liang's approach is direct, giving tired girls permission to go out looking like they truly just woke up and not hiding where their inspiration came from.

Footwear wasn't the only place where Liang brought sleeping-in chic to the fore. Her collection notes' emphasis on "tactile metamorphosis" manifested as a floral bedspread reimagined as a quilted jacket, a two-piece pajama set cut from glossy pink satin, sleeping bag puffers, fur-trimmed coats, and jersey princess dresses.

Even the looks that weren't quite so suited for lounging on the couch—like a paillette-coated mini dress bisected by a semi-sheer stomach panel, or a knit cardigan with ribbons trailing behind like streamers—came accompanied by a third and final twist on slipper shoes: ladylike opera heels trimmed not by lace or satin, but Ugg-adjacent fleece. Liang knows not every setting will allow actual bunny slippers, but these capture the same comfy-cozy feeling in a slightly dressier form.

All in all, this Fall 2026 runway put a signature Sandy Liang bow on a philosophy fashion girls know well: The best part of going out is getting ready...or just staying in, wearing nothing but princess pajamas and a fluffy pair of slippers.

Sandy Liang Fall 2026

I went into the New York Fashion Week Fall 2026 season looking for one specific thing: zest. I have seen all the greige scarf coats and stealth-wealth outfits I need to see. I want fashion with funk—runway looks that sound ridiculous on paper, but when draped, sandwiched, and styled by someone with a keen eye for color and texture, come together in harmony.

Fortunately for me, Zankov’s Fall 2026 runway was a feast of so-wrong-it’s-right combinations. The no-longer-emerging brand layered striped turtlenecks under short-sleeve sweaters, unbuttoned polo knits, and printed, zig-zaggy jackets. One sweater stack was a three-layer zest fest: an electric-orange striped turtleneck beneath a gray quarter-zip, topped off with a sequined navy tube top.

These oddball layering formulas hit me like dopamine as I watched from my seat on the sidelines. Best of all, I knew I could recreate the magic at home by reducing the runway looks to the simple styling trick that anchored each one: a pop of color, courtesy of a contrasting turtleneck.

The styling tip is as straightforward as it sounds: a thin turtleneck sweater, typically in a punchy color or print, worn under a contrasting top layer. I saw it again at Ashlyn, where the master craftswoman clashed chartreuse turtleneck tops with dark hourglass blazers and white peplum tunics. Rachel Scott used the layering trick in her divine Proenza Schouler Fall 2026 debut, splashing ribbed watermelon-red turtlenecks against black wool outerwear. Graphic, black-and-white cheetah-print sweaters also turtled out from retro car coats at Carolina Herrera.

Tory Burch had the honor of unveiling the sexiest take on the contrasting turtleneck trend. Her runway featured sheer pumpkin-orange and lilac turtles layered under grey herringbone blazers or cropped trenches in high-shine black patent leather.

The American sportswear designer is known for her slightly left-of-center staples and runway stylings; she called the lineup for Tory Burch's Fall 2026 show, a mix that "reflects how women dress now: by instinct, not by rules." Burch takes basic outfit components—a top, a trouser, a loafer—and gives them enough quirk to feel complex without pushing them out of the realm of wearability. Her lightweight, see-through turtlenecks, paired with outerwear you likely already have in your closet, were no exception.

These were all less outrageous than Zankov’s more-is-more-is-more turtleneck combos, but I found them refreshing all the same. I’m more confident I can pull off red clashed against black, or a semi-sheer sweater worn under a business-y blazer—versus a printed turtleneck stack that clashes six colors together. (Six! That’s not a rookie move.)

This is the genre of NYFW styling tip that keeps me up at night, because I’m too eager to wake up and try it myself the next day. But even I have to remember: It's about the principle more than the look itself. Here, it's simply a contrasting turtleneck—whether that’s in color, print, or transparency—worn under a top layer with a different vibe.

A turtleneck pop is an especially clever trick to try now if your bundled-up winter outfits have started to feel stale. We need all the layers we can get with a sub-zero wind chill and more frigid days on the forecast. Why not make it a zippy turtleneck that gives you an energy boost?

Shop the Contrast Turtleneck Trend

There are few garments in fashion history as evocative as the Hervé Léger bandage dress. The mere mention of the body-con style brings you back to the club, Cascada’s “Everytime We Touch” booming from the speakers and a raspberry Lancôme Juicy Tube in your going-out bag ready for a touch-up at a moment's notice. It's unmistakeable to anyone who poured over fashion glossies as a tween and admired It girls ranging from Cindy Crawford to Iman to Rihanna in second-skin dresses.

Michelle Ochs, the creative director of Hervé Léger since 2023, thinks of herself at 17 at her high school homecoming dance, wearing the bandage dress she bought at a mall in suburban Maryland. “If you told little-girl me I'd be where I am today, she wouldn’t believe you,” she says, on a video call, one week before presenting Hervé Léger’s Fall 2026 collection at New York Fashion Week.

The designer—also the founder of womenswear label Et Ochs—still counts herself as a fan, first and foremost. “I meet so many people who have such great, strong memories of the brand," she says. "Hearing everyone's stories with their bandage dresses might be what I love most about my job.”

Lately, she’s enjoyed hearing from Gen Z women who are falling head over mini-length hem for the iconic bodycon dress. Because, in case you didn’t know: They're back, and in every way a successful 2026 fashion trend needs to be. They’re a vintage grail, endorsed by Hailey Bieber. They're a frequent red carpet feature, like when Kaia Gerber wore a white bandage dress that recreated supermodel-mom Crawford’s Hervé Léger gown from the 1993 Academy Awards. They're a TikTok trend, too.

“People keep sending me videos of girls going into their mothers' closets and wearing her bandage dresses from 20 years ago,” says Ochs. The designer is particularly pleased with the last one: “There’s a reason women hold onto them for decades; you only keep the clothes you love.”

The mainstream bandage dress revival happens to be great timing for the legacy fashion brand. Hervé Léger just turned 40 and is celebrating with the Icons Reborn collection, launching February 19, which reissues a selection of its greatest hits. Priced between $295 and $425, the 10-piece capsule includes slightly tweaked versions of popular styles, including the plunging Backstage little black dress (a favorite of the ‘90s Supers) and the color-blocked Opening Night Dress, which was big with aughts pop stars.

“It's a milestone for the brand, not only in years, but also in earmarking its place in fashion history and pop culture,” says Ochs. “We wanted to reimagine these styles so a whole new generation can create more moments with the brand.”

While the Icons Reborn collection is a referential tribute to the club-rat fashion staple, the designer wants to make her mission at the brand very clear: “Hervé Léger is so much more than just the bandage dresses you remember. We're your go-to for anything special in your life—but we want to be your go-to for all aspects of your life.”

“When I joined, I was very mindful of the brand history and DNA. But, for lack of a better term, it had gotten a little stale," she continues. "I felt it was stuck in its mean-girl era. People heard Hervé Léger and thought only of skin and high heels. I wanted to push it beyond cocktail and evening.”

Ochs—who’s known in the industry as the “cutout queen” for her sensual, peek-a-boo dresses at her namesake label—saw an opportunity to soften and de-sexify the brand’s image and inventory.

“My approach was to bring a female perspective—which Léger hadn’t ever had [as creative director]—modernize the brand, and make it approachable," she says. Part of that meant producing more “multi-end use pieces,” like high-neck body-con midis, little black bandage dresses, and maxi gowns trimmed with fringe, that work well under a blazer as an office outfit or with kitten heels for date night that’ll have you home by 10 p.m. Ochs also doubled down on the brand’s separates.

Carrying 40 years of brand legacy, while also attempting to rebrand a silhouette that’s so cemented into the shared fashion consciousness, isn’t easy. There's also that bandage-wrapped elephant in the room: It doesn't feel like a coincidence that bandage dresses are trending in an age of easily accessible GLP-1s and the fashion industry leaving size-inclusivity by the wayside.

The designer doesn’t deny the context or connotations of a dress designed to wrap a body tight like an ACE bandage. However, while Ochs is at the helm, she hopes to reframe Léger’s signature stretch-knit material to be supportive rather than shrinking.

“Women's bodies fluctuate; every cycle, every year," she says. "A bandage dress will move with you and meet you where your body’s at.”

Hervé Léger is also making an active effort to center a more diverse range of body types in its campaigns and the celebrities it dresses; during NYFW, Ashley Graham wore the brand's ruby-red Maxine Gown to a launch party for her new wine brand, Lucci Lambrusco. It's also worth noting that the form-fitting silhouette is in itself a celebration of curves—but, admittedly, only up to a point. (Léger’s sizing range caps at XL, which fits a size 16).

Overall, Ochs’ plan to make Hervé Léger more accessible and appealing to consumers who have previously felt alienated or excluded is to emphasize the feel of its pieces above all else. She wants to focus on the emotion that comes up, the support you feel, when you put on a garment designed to fit you like a hug. “Women feel confident in our bandage dresses—and it radiates out of them,” she says.

The younger crowd certainly concurs: At the end of last month, Gen Z’s new favorite girlie and the 2026 Grammys’ “Best New Artist”, Olivia Dean, wore a candy-striped Hervé Léger bandage maxi dress, to a Universal Music Group artist showcase. Styled by Simone Beyene to be wrapped in pink, purple, green, yellow, and white bands, with a massive smile on her face and a microphone in hand, her joy was palpable.

“There’s a reason the bandage dress stays relevant and keeps coming back," Ochs says. "It might be in a different time, with different hair, makeup, and styling, but the dress itself doesn't change, and you can’t argue with that. A good dress is a good dress.”

As press gathered around designer Rachel Scott backstage following her official runway debut as creative director for Proenza Schouler, it was hard to miss the pin on her oversized white shirt: a small white circle, stamped with "ICE OUT" in bold, black letters. On the biggest day of her career, she chose to make the message as visible as her collection.

"If I have any form of audience, I absolutely need to say something," Scott told Marie Claire. "It's a responsibility."

From the Golden Globes to the Grammys, celebrities including Billie Eilish, Tessa Thompson, and Justin and Hailey Bieber have accessorized their awards season looks with "ICE OUT" and "BE GOOD" pins. They were provided by organizers Nelini Stamp, Director of Strategy of Working Families Power, and Jessica Morales Rocketto, Director of Maremoto, who rallied a coalition alongside organizations like the ACLU. The pins are meant to raise awareness and signal solidarity with people affected by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) violence, including Renee Good, Alex Pretti, Keith Porter Jr., and more, who have died at the hands of immigration law enforcement.

When Congress passed the Trump administration’s “One Big Beautiful Bill” (H.R. 1) in July 2025, it set aside over $170 billion for immigration- and border enforcement-related spending, making ICE the highest-funded law enforcement agency in the U.S. In President Donald Trump’s first year back in office, nearly 400,000 immigrants have been arrested—even though fewer than 14 percent have been charged with or convicted of a violent offense, per CBS News. The nonprofit Transaction Records Access Clearinghouse (TRAC), which publishes federal government data for the public, found that there are over 70,000 people in ICE detention as of January 2026.

The initial "ICE OUT" campaign at the Golden Globes came together days after Good was shot and killed by ICE agents in Minneapolis, according to Stamp. She and Morales Rocketto started reaching out to people they knew who were nominated or expected to attend. After seeing how many celebrities embraced the pins at the Globes, they rallied for the Grammys, and identified other major events that would draw the same attention.

"We didn't want any cultural moment to pass us while ICE was being an occupying force in our communities, responsible for killing more than two people last month," Stamp told Marie Claire. That included New York Fashion Week.

This week, people like artist and organizer Sarah Sophie Flicker and content creator Nicolette Mason came in to facilitate the "ICE OUT—BE GOOD" campaign’s growth and visibility in fashion. Brands, influencers, and the Council of Fashion Designers of America (CFDA) are coordinating pin distribution efforts, placing them in the most visible corners of fashion, from street-style lapels to the runways themselves. Collina Strada creative director Hillary Taymour, Zankov founder Henry Zankov, and Maria McManus's eponymous founder wore them at their respective shows and presentations. High-profile industry names like Paloma Elsesser and Ella Emhoff have also participated from the front row.

"The fashion community are natural fits for this kind of cultural outreach," said Jessica Herman Weitz, National Director of Artist & Entertainment Engagement at the ACLU. "This industry knows better than anyone that the cultural fabric of our country is built on immigrants."

Several labels on the CFDA's official New York Fashion Week calendar were founded by immigrants or their descendants, from Carolina Herrera to Prabal Gurung. Proenza Schouler's Scott is another: She immigrated to New York City from Jamaica, and frequently weaves references to the Caribbean diaspora into collections for her first brand, Diotima.

Fashion week can feel removed from the day-to-day realities of working class New Yorkers, Stamp said, but it's also an intrinsic part of the city's fabric, from the historically immigrant-led workforce of the Garment District to the global impact its residents have had on trends. New York has also been a target of ICE operations across all five boroughs, so "having people at fashion week wearing 'ICE OUT' pins is both a statement to where we are as a country [and] particularly a statement to people in New York," Stamp said.

McManus—an "off-the-boat Irish" immigrant, as she puts it—told Marie Claire over email that the “ICE OUT” pin she wore to her salon-style presentation “may well have been photographed more than the velvet dress with vintage pearl ribbon, a hit from the fall collection.”

"If more people understood how hard immigrants work to get here, and how deeply we commit to contributing once we arrive,” she continued, “the national conversation might sound very different."

Taymour of Collina Strada has been championing immigration rights in her collections since at least 2020, when she designed an "Abolish ICE" shirt for her Resort collection. "I stand by it," she told Marie Claire after her show. "I casted models for one of my first shows solely from countries that were on Trump's banned list during his first term. It's important to take action every day."

This season, she’s seen more designers step into the conversation. "It’s been powerful seeing others wear the pin in recent days on social media—it shows that this is something that is at the forefront of the conversation," she said.

Fashion consultant Julie Gilhart, a regular at New York Fashion Week, got her new "ICE OUT" pin from the CFDA. "I think it’s important to wear it on a daily basis," she told Marie Claire from her front-row seat at TWP, "to remind us not to forget [or get] caught up in the moment of other things."

When coalitions with cultural capital speak out politically, organizer Morales Rocketto said, they can shape policy, especially the decisions that directly affect ICE operations. In fashion week's home state, "The Senate Majority Leader is Senator Chuck Schumer, and when one of the biggest industries in his state, at one of the biggest moments that they have, is talking about 'ICE OUT,' I don't think that's just ambient noise, actually," she said. "I think that's something that his office is paying attention to."

It also reaches people who might not have a direct connection to the industry, or who don't follow fashion too closely. Stamp offered herself as an example: "I have appreciation for fashion week, but I'm not paying attention to each show—but I will see something like [Taymour and Scott] wearing a pin at the end of the runway," Stamp said. "In my mind, fashion has always been political. Even if people want to deny that. Culture is political, culture shifts politics—not the other way around."

On Feb. 12, the second official day of New York Fashion Week, Democrats in the Senate blocked a DHS funding bill, priming the agency for a temporary shutdown. The same day, border czar Tom Homan announced ICE agents are withdrawing from Minnesota after the agency reached an agreement with local authorities.

These are some of the outcomes activists have hoped for. Still, Morales Rocketto stressed that they shouldn't treated as the end of the conversation, especially while ICE operations are ongoing in other parts of the United States. "We're really hoping that when you hear about this [campaign], it's going to motivate you to support immigrants' rights in your community, to call Congress, to be engaged in mutual aid," she said.

In other words, an “ICE OUT” pin isn’t meant to be a temporary fashion-week trend. "I can imagine the impact of young people who want to be in the industry, write about the industry, or even just are appreciative of it, seeing a designer, a model, or a makeup artist they follow wearing that 'ICE OUT' pin," Stamp said. "I actually fundamentally believe we need that because it changes hearts and minds."

Editor's note: This story has been updated to reflect the full titles of Nelini Stamp and Jessica Morales Rocketto.

One of the Tory Burch Fall 2026 fashion show highlights unfolded just off to the runway's side. Somewhere between a gray, slim-fitting suit paired to low pumps with oversize studs on the toes and a tweedy coat with a popped black collar, Dolly Parton's 1980 hit "9 to 5" began thumping over the speakers. Front row VIPs like Tessa Thompson, Amanda Seyfried, and Pamela Anderson, plus the usually-stoic fashion people gathered at the Sotheby's at the Breuer on Wednesday night couldn't help themselves: All around the room, guests began lip-synching and bopping in their seats.

The impromptu sing-along matched the mood of Burch's 42-look Fall 2026 collection. "When the world is so chaotic, desperate, and sad, I felt like I wanted to go back to familiar territory," Burch told reporters backstage following the show. On the runway, it materialized in cardigans handcrafted by Indian artisans and intentionally-undone drop-waist dresses. When times are tough, her woman wants a more interesting version of a comfort blanket—and maybe a playlist filled with odes to women who keep striving even when The Man holds them back.

Burch wasn't explicit with what, exactly, in the world was fueling her desire for a mood-boosting collection this season. (Turn on CNN today, and you'll see she has plenty to choose from.) Her soundtrack, combining a spoken-word poem with that familiar anthem of women's resilience, was a way for "this dystopia to come through a bit" and "a nod to how how women are feeling."

The clothes, meanwhile, reflected Burch's desire for "things to feel a little safer, in a way." References from a pair of her dad's corduroy pants to the colors of Bunny Mellon's vibrant Antigua estate (which Burch purchased and restored) made the cut. There were cashmere crewnecks with the sleeves rolled up just so over another button down; tissue-thin knit tops in orange and lavender; a three-tone raffia bag posted on countless editors' Instagram Stories before the show ended. (Trust: Those bags are the next pierced mule.) The collection also included Burch's first-ever watch on the runway, itself vintage-inspired with lizard black and croc brown straps.

Burch told press she's "obsessed" with the idea of longevity: "How do you have something that you can take today and wear ten years from now, and not really have a date on it in mind of when it existed?" The answer for Fall 2026 wasn't just resorting to safe basics—it's designing a piece that feels as good to wear as singing along to Parton's chorus: injecting an easy-as-breathing silhouette with a riot of color, or pinning on a sardine brooch just because.

As Burch wrote in show notes, "The mix reflects how women dress now: by instinct, not by rules." So, go ahead, wear your summer sardines in fall!

Tory Burch Fall 2026

There are a few guarantees at a Coach fall fashion show: plush shearling jackets, an evening dress or two, leather bags destined for the arms of celebrities and everyday shoppers alike. All of these were present and accounted for in the collection debuting at New York Fashion Week on February 11. But the brand's Fall 2026 look turned up the volume loudest for a favorite reference of Stuart Vevers': the creative director's love of all things counterculture.

In a sea of grunge, Marc Jacobs-esque plaids, frayed Bermuda shorts, and prep school neckties left intentionally off-kilter, Coach welcomed show-goers to its take on My Chemical Romance's Black Parade. The overall vibe was back to school by way of the Warped Tour. Even mini backpacks with a kisslock closure had a bit of an attitude.

In show notes, Vevers called the collection a fusion of 1940s tailoring and '70s sportswear—plus a potpourri of references ranging from Film Noir, varsity uniforms, and the Wizard of Oz. "Youth" and "counterculture" got multiple shout-outs, too. A few runway looks spotlighted satin-y, high-neck dresses set with a celestial brooch or a jacket with silver stars down the side. But the punk influence still came through: Black and gray were the predominant colors, with splashes of bright red in between; the outfit-finishers of choice were high-top skater sneakers and inside-out blazers.

Leather bags—where Coach often flexes its ability to guess what the kids want—also took a trip through the wayback machine. The design team looked back at its 1970s archives for more reinterpretations of Bonnie Cashin's earliest accessory designs for the brand. Oversize leather messengerss and mini East-West bags with coin purse closures had the most potential to resonate with prepsters and minimalists, as well as this runway's punk rockers. But sticking to the theme, the mini bags weren't carried by their strap or hoisted over a shoulder; they had to be scrunched in one hand like a newspaper (or a detention slip).

As always, Coach's front row was populated by young stars, including Elle Fanning, Odessa A'Zion, Emily Bader, Storm Reid, and Mckenna Grace. On Instagram before the show, Vevers dedicated the collection to a name fans might not have known: Fawn, his nine-day-old daughter. Will Generation Beta's revolution come with a vintage Coach dress code by the time she's old enough to wear today's collection? Vevers seemed to hope so. "We embrace the continuous reinvention of what it means to be young and forward-looking, resourceful and creative," he wrote in the show notes.

Coach Fall 2026

It's a new dawn at Proenza Schouler, a brand that has been defining the look of cool New York women for over two decades. In this new chapter, though, the designer doing the defining is a woman.

This is the first collection under the creative direction of Rachel Scott, who took over for founding designers Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez last September. (She consulted on the Spring 2026 line that debuted last New York Fashion Week, but was fully involved in this one.) She's already a beloved name in the industry, having worked behind-the-scenes at Rachel Comey before launching her award-winning label Diotima in 2021.

Wearing an "ICE OUT" pin on her blouse while talking to press backstage, Scott explained how it was important to her to respect what the brand has been and meant to customers for over two decades. "The legacy there is so strong and so beautiful," she said. At its forefront is "a really strong love of this incredible New York woman who's intellectual, who's tied to the arts." Her goal was to get closer to her using the design language Proenza Schouler has already established: "the use of color, the use of pattern, the sharpness, the precision, the tailoring, the fluidity of the dresses."

Scott has been preparing for this debut since the summer, when she first got to dive into the brand's archives. She then went out and met with actual Proenza Schouler customers to better understand not just who they are, but also what she could bring to their lives and wardrobes.

The overall inspiration for Fall 2026—and modus operandi for Scott—was moving away from an idea of perfection in favor of precision, she said. This was part of her goal of wanting to add "a bit more complexity and texture" to the Proenza Schouler woman: "Sometimes, she can be a bit more erotic. Sometimes, she can be angry. Sometimes, she's not quite so perfect, because, as a woman, I find perfection imprisoning. I wanted to give her that grace."

The result is an invitation for "self-authorship," as Scott put it. "It's not our expectations of her perfection—she can be as perfect or imperfect as she wants to be," she said. In the show notes, the brand painted a picture of a woman who seems "put-together, precise, deathly punctual," but is in a rush, and her clothes reflect that: fabric that looks worn-in and slightly wrinkled; irregular draping and lapels; buttons that are done up alongside some that have been abandoned. "She actually embraces that," Scott explained. "It's not about trying to mold to someone's vision about who she is."

Her smart separates, tailored pieces, and fine knits convey a confidence, refinement, and understanding in who she is and how she likes to dress. She doesn't need to give her dress one final steam before heading out the door, or triple-check her buttons are all aligned—she has places to go, things to do, and people to see. Her clothes aren't a distraction.

Another element of the brand Scott is beginning to play with—and will continue to in future collections—is "the new understanding of color" at Proenza Schouler. "There's no way for someone to use someone else's color language," she explained. "What Jack and Lazaro did was so beautiful, but it's their language. What I really thought about was more what the color language they had did. It was colors that reverberate. So I took that and put my language into it."

Scott's take is a touch moodier, with the occasional jolt of bright red and creamy white that immediately catches the eye. She incorporates texture in the finer details, like silver grommets and leather fringe, in a way that gives the collection a sense of continuity with the ones that came before.

Another thing remains certain in the Rachel Scott era: The Proenza Schouler woman is still the best-dressed person you know.

You didn't need an invitation to Ralph Lauren's Fall 2026 fashion show to know the brand is having a moment. "Ralph Lauren" was tagged more than 33,000 times on Instagram and TikTok in December as an aspirational aesthetic, the name now a shorthand for a baby shower theme, a genre of holiday outfits, a coffee shop where the line is reliably around the block; patriotic gear worn by Olympic athletes and suburban parents alike. Then, there's the brand itself and what the internet considers its hero product: a quarter-zip sweater, which catapulted to the top of fashion search engine Lyst's hottest products ranking of Q4 2025, with searches climbing 132 percent over the last three months.

But all those headlines and viral moments leave out the other side of Ralph Lauren, the one that's built around enduring craftsmanship and that defined modern American luxury over nearly six decades. They forget that Ralph Lauren had accumulated 59 years of prestige: designing in modes from boho-Western to Hamptons prep; winning coveted industry awards; becoming the first American designer to open a dedicated storefront in Europe (in London, in the 1980s). The brand has dressed Oscar winners (Gwyneth Paltrow) and beloved characters (Diane Keaton as the titular Annie Hall). As Oprah Winfrey noted in a 2007 CFDA Awards speech preceding the brand's American Fashion Legend Award: "Ralph is as much an ambassador for American values as anyone appointed by the White House." Just last November, the brand took home another Womenswear Designer of the Year trophy from the same institution.

Tuesday's Fall 2026 fashion show, held before a grand marble staircase in Manhattan's Jack Shainman Gallery, had this version of Ralph Lauren—the discerning, insider version—at the fore. There was still plenty of covetable knitwear across the 59 looks, but not the type with a neatly-stitched polo player logo.

Attended by Anne Hathaway, Lili Reinhart, and Lana del Rey, the show opened with Gigi Hadid dressed in a knit corset layered over a thin tank top and coordinating knit skirt, a chain-link belt strung across her hips. It ended with Hadid taking another lap around the runway in a caramel velvet gown, with flutter sleeves crafted from crystals. In between, looks incorporating more than fifty custom materials, according to show notes, followed an avant-equestrian beat.

In the first act, familiar tweed blazers and oversized turtlenecks found new life over plissé metallic skirts or silky floral jacquard pants. Riding boots trotted back into the spotlight in a mid-thigh silhouette, with heavy-metal buckles matching the belted mini dresses just above them. The fabrics and textures someone might imagine as quintessential Ralph Lauren—like denim or cable knits—were nowhere to be found.

In the show notes, the overall vibe was summed up as "chic pragmatism." Indeed, the floor-length scarves secured asymmetrically across models' collarbones with an oversize jewel-toned brooch or the velvet loafers hand-embroidered with sequins struck editors bundled in parkas and balaclavas as an upscale alternative to the winter accessorizing necessary for making it through fashion week.

While slouchy double-breasted suits and a selection of slim-fitting velvet dresses likely landed on celebrity stylists' wish lists, this wasn't a runway for tracking down a new It item. The Ralph Lauren woman, show notes argued, "honors heritage while embracing reinvention." In other words: If she's wearing the quarter-zip, she's finding a way to dial it up with the scarf-tied bags or splashes of leopard print on display here.

This isn't a version of Ralph Lauren you can imitate at home with just tartan peel-and-stick wallpaper and a cream cable-knit sweater. It's more refined, and speaks to a business with a global scale rivaling labels in the LVMH or Kering luxury stables. (According to its latest earnings report, it's also generating the financial results to compete with the European power players.)

Despite all the glamour, the underlying thesis of Ralph Lauren Fall 2026 isn't that far off from the function of its Internet-beloved knitwear, it turns out. "Her clothes must work but also excite," show notes read. The rush from securing a sought-after sweater or unboxing a limited-edition velvet dress isn't that different from item to item. The important part is remembering Mr. Lauren and his team have the range to do it all—and they've been doing it for decades.

Ralph Lauren Fall 2026

Some Fashion Month shows open with notes explaining a designer's inspirations and mindset as they crafted their latest collection. For Fall 2026, Marc Jacobs provided "receipts."

These "receipts" were actually references he turned to while designing the 39-look lineup. They ranged, chronologically, from Yves Saint Laurent Couture 1965 to Jacobs's Perry Ellis Spring 1993 grunge collection to Marc by Marc Jacobs Spring 2013. They prepped guests like Julia Fox and Auliʻi Cravalho to see fashion history repeating—and not just the '90s staples like slim pencil skirts or Marc by Marc Jacobs bags of the mid-2000s that appeared on repeat throughout the unadorned runway at Manhattan's Park Avenue Armory on Feb. 9.

Jacobs called the collection "Memory. Loss." and introduced it as "free from nostalgia" in his notes. The bon-bon-topped heels, semi-sheer skirting, and beaded collars all instantly evoked major looks of the '90s and early 2000s. They were more than mere throwbacks, though: They were meant to serve as monuments to "who we are, what we create, what we leave behind and what we carry forward."

Context was just as important as recognizing the origins of each look. The plaid checked suits evoked Jacobs's Perry Ellis collections, but they're also inseparable from the moment the designer was fired from the label for taking what was then a major creative risk. For Jacobs, something that has been reduced to "the plaid trend" is inextricably tied to a memory, like all the clothes of our lives tend to be. He wanted to explore the more emotional side of throwback fashion that isn't easily summed up in a pithy name like "80s glamoratti" or a paint conglomerate-appointed color scheme. "Recovering the past also reminds us that loss is inevitable and that hope is work," he wrote.

Marc Jacobs's last several collections have favored cartoonishly exaggerated proportions fit for life-size Polly Pocket dolls. Collars levitated above the necks. Pannier-like hips defied gravity (and conventional body measurements). Shoes came curved with arches that seemed tailored to a Barbie foot.

The slimming down on display for Fall 2026 might in part be a business decision: Tariffs and economic uncertainty are a shadow over the American fashion industry, and inflated pieces only for top clients like Sarah Paulson and Tracee Ellis Ross can't sustain a company alone. Meanwhile, the '90s style blueprint Jacobs helped define three decades ago is now firmly back at the center of culture, from the outfits influencers shill on TikTok to a renewed interest in (and upcoming TV series about) the era's It girl, Carolyn Bessette Kennedy.

This doesn't mean Jacobs left his sense of humor or creativity behind in order to enter this more reflective mode. Models in neutral sweaters or zip-up jackets and matching skirts revealed a flash of '90s neon as they walked past, their low ponytails or buns set by an organza scrunchie. A final segment of looks incorporated sparkles (in line with the blast-from-the-past anti-jewelry trend) and clashing splashes of sequins—a reference to Prada's 1996 "'Banal Eccentricity" collection, where unexpected color combinations took center stage. Jacobs also showed his understanding of how the average shopper will eventually refer to his considered assemblage of homages and references, with cheekily vague outfit descriptions in his notes. (Think "Sweater, Skirt Boot" and "Suit, Pump.")

The day-to-day fashion system can strip nods to the past of all their meaning and historical context. Vintage looks and references hit red carpets and runways in such rapid succession, their value is conferred by the fact that they were procured at all, not by what they stood for or the work that went into creating them.

The Marc Jacobs Fall 2026 collection didn't necessarily shame the industry's current obsession with looking backward. (Those scrunchies and 2013 bags are going to sell.) It simply sought to ask fashion lovers to pause and reflect when they're dressing for the present with pieces from the past. That edict wasn't lost on at least one guest leaving the show, who summed up the show in a single, apt observation: "I feel like a museum just walked past me."

Marc Jacobs Fall 2026

Nearly three years ago, I traveled all the way to Paris just to shop Sézane and Sea New York's first collaboration. Well, that's only somewhat accurate: I was already in town for a reporting trip. Still, the international flight was necessary to swipe a dreamy floral, lace-lined maxi dress and quilted tote bag from the initial drop. Sézane's store in the 7th arrondissement was one of the only places on earth where a few pieces still remained in stock (and in my size).

If I hadn't happened to have a flight over, I probably wouldn't have snagged my favorites. "Our last collaboration sold out on the very day of the launch, with the standout, most sought-after pieces disappearing first," says Sézane founder Morgane Sézalory. Now, Sézane x Sea history is repeating once again.

The brands are reuniting for a third collaboration, available now on Sézane's website and in select stores. It's a wintry mix of the two label's internationally beloved signatures: Sea's quilted coats and broderie anglaise lace, Sézane's jackets, button-up knit cardigans and Marais-approved denim. (I predict the cozy but colorful outerwear will fly off shelves first.)

Monica Paolini, co-founder of Sea, says the balance of each brand's codes had gotten "more intuitive" with each capsule. "This time, the silhouettes feel a bit more relaxed and fluid, while still holding onto the structure and femininity that define Sea," she explains. "Pattern-wise, we leaned further into vintage references—soft florals, subtle geometry, and embroidery that feels almost found rather than designed. It’s an evolution that feels more confident and instinctive."

From New Balance sneakers to Antoinette Poisson prints, Sézane collaborations tend to pick up on combinations that feel both one-of-a-kind and actually wearable in daily life. (No wonder they hit sold-out status from New York's SoHo to Le Bon Marche in Paris.) Paolini says that balance was obvious in feedback she heard from the first Sézane x Sea shoppers.

"What stayed with me most was how people connected to the pieces. Women told us they felt familiar and special at the same time—pieces they reached for often, but still felt precious," she says.

On previous rounds, Sézalory says she was moved by how much shoppers cared about the level of craft behind each piece. It wasn't just about wearing something rare and limited-edition. Rather, "the care in the cuts, materials, and techniques truly resonated." This time around, "We hope this new drop will be just as inspiring."

I'd say it's destined for the same response. When I hopped online to shop my dream Sézane x Sea piece myself, the site told me it was already in someone's cart. Should I book another shopping trip to Paris now, just in case?

Fragrance has long been a preferred method for dabbling in luxury. Maybe spending five figures on a handbag isn’t quite in the budget, or perhaps a designer keychain or pair of sunglasses feels too ephemeral to invest in. In moments like these, an eau de parfum or cologne—especially from a heritage house like YSL fragrances—can hit all the right notes (pun intended), offering months, even years, of indulgence for a fraction of the price of a garment or accessory.

For these reasons and more, nearly every storied designer label has an accompanying range of high-end scents: Chanel, Loewe, Dior, Valentino. Among the most influential in both fashion and scent is Yves Saint Laurent. Founded by the designer of the same name in 1962, the YSL label is associated with powerful femininity—think Le Smoking, the androgynous tuxedo so famous it has its own Wikipedia page, or the 1980s shoulder pad craze the brand is credited with sparking.

That same spirit can be found in the YSL fragrances. From the iconic—and once scandalous—Opium, released in 1977, to the brand’s current bestselling Libre range, there is, in my opinion, a strong spiritual thread that runs through them all: These are bold, sensual scents for those who want to make an impression. The floral notes are often strong, but these fragrances are not for the shrinking violet.

I took a deep dive into five of the brand’s top fragrances, spritzing, sniffing, wearing, and learning about their compositions. Read on for my complete guide to the most popular Yves Saint Laurent fragrances.

The Best YSL Fragrances

• The Crowd-Pleaser: Yves Saint Laurent Libre Eau de Parfum
• The Youthful Pick: Yves Saint Laurent Black Opium Eau de Parfum
• The Unisex Pick: Yves Saint Laurent MYSLF Absolu
• The Cozy Holiday Pick: Yves Saint Laurent Libre Vanille Couture
• The Modern Pick: Yves Saint Laurent Babycat

Other YSL Fragrances to Consider

• Libre L'eau Nue Parfum: Winner of the 2025 Marie Claire Fragrance Award for Most Innovative Fragrance, Libre L’eau Nue is the brand’s first alcohol-free fragrance. Bergamot and green mandarin create a light and lifted juice that’s regularly described as “fresh” and “clean” by reviewers online. Marie Claire beauty writer Ariel Baker describes it as “a citrus floral fragrance that is perfect for people who like to smell like they just stepped out of the shower."
• Mon Paris Eau de Parfum: A light and fizzy fruity-floral, Mon Paris is frequently referred to as “girly” and “pretty” in reviews. Its red berry notes (especially strawberry) are the star of the show, with supporting performances by datura flower and patchouli. It has fans of all ages but is often cited as a particularly great gift for a young person as an introductory fine fragrance.
• Black Opium Eau de Parfum Over Red: The cult hit of the Black Opium range, Over Red adds a subtle cherry note to the coffee and vanilla found throughout the Black Opium range. Fans say it lacks the medicinal smell sometimes associated with cherry fragrances, especially when it dries down and becomes more coffee- and vanilla-forward.

How We Tested

To evaluate the top Yves Saint Laurent fragrances, Eden Stuart personally sniffed, wore, and researched all five fragrances provided by the brand. She also researched the brand's other fragrance offerings, scouring reviews and social media posts.

While the best Yves Saint Laurent fragrance for you will vary based on personal preference, you truly can't go wrong with one of the items on this list.

Why Trust Marie Claire

For more than 30 years, Marie Claire has been an internationally recognized destination for news, fashion, and beauty trends, investigative packages, and more. When it comes to the products Marie Claire recommends, we take your faith in us seriously. Every product that we feature comes personally recommended by a Marie Claire writer or editor, or by an expert we’ve spoken to firsthand.

Ahead of the 2026 runway calendar, the CFDA (Council of Fashion Designers of America) has decided fur is out—for good.

On December 3, the group announced that, beginning in September 2026, animal furs are banned from designer collections showing on the official New York Fashion Week calendar. Prohibited materials are defined as "farmed or trapped fur from animals killed specifically for their pelts—including but not limited to mink, fox, rabbit, karakul lamb, chinchilla, coyote, and raccoon dog[.]" The only exception will be for furs sourced by Indigenous communities through "traditional subsistence hunting practices."

Steven Kolb, president and CEO of the CFDA, noted fur already has a limited presence at New York Fashion Week, with many designers—including Coach and Michael Kors in the United States, as well as international conglomerates such as the Prada Group and Armani Group—phasing it out of their collections starting in the late 2010s, as consumer sentiment soured on animal-derived materials. Some NYFW regulars, like Ralph Lauren, banned fur as early as 2006.

"[B]y taking this position, the CFDA hopes to inspire American designers to think more deeply about the fashion industry’s impact on animals. Consumers are moving away from products associated with animal cruelty, and we want to position American fashion as a leader on those fronts, while also driving material innovation," Kolb said, in a statement.

Fashion weeks from Berlin to Melbourne have tightened their restrictions on furs and other materials in recent years. Copenhagen Fashion Week was first to implement a required sustainability framework for participating designers, including a ban on all furs on the runway and single-use plastics, as well as a baseline for recycled materials. Each season, the Danish capital increases its restrictions, guiding participating brands to overhaul their entire business in the name of sustainability. Earlier this year, London Fashion Week announced it would adopt the Copenhagen framework as well.

Banning fur isn't a catch-all for an eco-friendly fashion week, however: Faux fur alternatives made from synthetics are often environmentally harmful to produce. The CFDA has pledged to provide "educational materials and a material library" for designers to source alternatives—the exact materials included, and how they're sourced, were not stated.

H&M's next designer collaboration made its red carpet debut—before it was even announced.

At the British Fashion Council's 2025 Fashion Awards in London on Monday night, the Swedish retailer dressed Anitta, Emily Ratajkowski, Amelia Gray, and Alton Mason for the red carpet in its upcoming collection with designer Stella McCartney. Following a trippy collaboration with Diesel and Maison Margiela's Glenn Martens, H&M's link-up with the British designer is centered around sustainability, and uses primarily certified, responsible materials, many of which are recycled, according to the brand. The step-and-repeat reveal is also a teaser with a months-long waiting list in the works: It's not set to launch in stores until Spring 2026.

This is the rare repeat collaborator for H&M: McCartney first teamed up with the retailer back in 2005. (She was H&M's second-ever designer collaborator, the first famously being Karl Lagerfeld. The campaign starred none other than Kate Moss.) Two decades later, they're coming together once again.

The glamorous sneak peek at the collection promised Stella McCartney signatures from her namesake brand and her tenure as creative director of Chloé. A twinkling, semi-sheer dress for Amelia Gray seemed to reference early-aughts Stella (complete with a slouchy chain-link belt at the hips). Emily Ratajkowski and Anitta's dresses nodded to McCartney's more recent red carpet creations, where elegant draped shoulders and capes abound. However, H&M has not yet shared exactly how many pieces will land in the final collection.

"We wanted to make sure we captured the Stella attitude," Ann-Sofie Johansson, H&M head of womenswear, told Vogue. "The feminine strength, the insouciance. From her pioneering work at Chloé in the ’90s, when she brought a cool London energy to Paris, to her rule-breaking designs under her own label in the ’00s."

Stella McCartney isn't only bringing her aesthetic back to the retailer—she's also infusing the sustainability practices that drive her own environmentally-conscious label. This time, in addition to the collection itself, H&M x Stella McCartney introduces an Insights Board, which is described as a way to "[bring] together different voices and perspectives from across the fashion industry, to create a space for curiosity and listening," with the goal of creating change and "raising awareness for animal welfare and innovation-driven solutions."

"This second partnership feels like a chance to look at how far we've come on sustainability, cruelty-free practices, and conscious designs—and to stay honest about how far we have to go—together," McCartney said in a statement. "I am thrilled to have H&M join me on this road, real change only happens when we push from both the outside and the inside, and I've always believed in infiltrating from within to move the industry forward."

Hard-launching the collaboration on a highly-anticipated red carpet is a surefire way to do so.

H&M x Stella McCartney launches Spring 2026. This is a developing story; more details will be added.

Breaking out as an independent fashion designer today is no small feat. The industry is crowded and more demanding than ever. There are rising production costs, shifting consumer habits, and scaling issues, which makes creating a line that lasts—or even gets off the ground—feel especially out of reach.

Even still, a new generation of rising designers has seemingly cracked the code. Their names might not be on billboards (yet!), but they've still managed to build a discerning following. The women behind these labels stand out not only for their distinctive designs, but for how they’re redefining what “newness” in fashion means. In a world dominated by the high-speed churn of fleeting trends, they invite us to slow down and embrace pieces rooted in sentiment and intention. Their work, as you’ll see ahead, prizes purpose over novelty—an ethos that never goes out of style.

Stephanie Suberville of Heirlome

Hermès has its Birkin bags; Heirlome has its rebozos.

A traditional Mexican garment similar to a shawl, Heirlome’s rebozos are made of pure silk, stitched in a zigzag design, and finished with fringe. Each takes three months to make and is handwoven by Arturo Estrada, an artisan in Santa Maria del Rio who has been crafting rebozos since he was nine. The intricate $990 shawls have become Heirlome’s signature, propelling the 2022-launched brand onto New York’s fashion landscape and amassing a fan base of craft-led shoppers along the way.

“We can't produce our rebozos fast enough to deal with the demand,” Heirlome founder Stephanie Suberville says on an early October video call. “I’ve had to limit wholesale orders to only ten pieces, but even still, we can’t keep them in stock.” Suberville has implemented a customer waiting list for Heirlome’s rebozos, with a tentative restock date set for early 2026.

Suberville, who grew up in Monterrey, Mexico, didn’t anticipate that a design predating the country’s colonial period would become a trendy item among Manhattanites. “It's fascinating to see how much my American customers love rebozos—a very old, traditional Mexican garment my grandmother used to wear, my mother keeps safe in her drawers and that Mexican people my age, as millennials, don’t really care about anymore.”

But introducing centuries-old Mexican folk art and handicrafts—artesanía—to new audiences was always part of Suberville’s plan. “I live in a constant state of nostalgia for Mexico, and Heirlome was born from that feeling,” says the Parsons graduate with over two decades of fashion industry experience. “As a Mexican woman in America, I feel a sense of responsibility to keep artesanía alive, and making clothes that demand this type of next-level workmanship is my way of doing so.”

In addition to collaborations with craftspeople like Estrada, Suberville partners each season with different traditional Mexican artisans—from potters to painters—and integrates their medium into Heirlome’s collections. A ceramist creates a custom scalloped print that Suberville uses for a shirtdress. The designer reinterprets a sculptor’s signature jaguar as a motif on a maxi gown.

“A lot of the artisans we work with come from different Indigenous Mexican communities. Each has its own style, language, and religion, and these traditions are all passed down to the next generations,” Suberville says. “We usually think of heirlooms as jewelry or material things you hold onto, but I love the idea of skills being heirlooms you pass down.”

Sophie Andes-Gascon and Claire McKinney of SC103

SC103 began not in a glossy studio, but on the kitchen floor of Sophie Andes-Gascon and Claire McKinney’s college apartment. Over video, the longtime roommates recall coming home from their corporate fashion jobs in 2019 and sewing prairie dresses and parachute pants until 1 a.m. On a whim, they started weaving deadstock leather scraps into chains—a small experiment that would become their now-signature Links bags.

Eventually, Andes-Gascon and McKinney had mocked up enough pieces for a collection and felt compelled to put on a self-produced runway show in 2019. “We had no intention of launching a brand,” McKinney says. “We thought we were just doing one fashion show and maybe selling a few handbags. Someone literally asked, ‘What is this?’ so we had to come up with a name for the flyer.” And just like that, SC103 was born—“S” and “C” for their initials, “103” for their shared college apartment near the Brooklyn Navy Yard, where it all began.

Five years after their accidental launch, the designers see their best-selling Links tote as the perfect encapsulation of their journey, and a symbol of their scrappiness in both design and origin. “The bag is modular by nature—there's no glue or hardware; it can be taken apart or put together a million times—and anyone could make it anywhere,” McKinney says. “Two hands and a lap are really all you need.”

The interlinked design also mirrors the duo themselves: collaborators connected and figuring it out one piece at a time. “There isn't just one way to run a fashion brand,” Andes-Gascon says. “We're doing it our own way, which is working off of demand and the numbers coming to us, because that's the only way we know how—and it’s working well for us.”

“Well” is Andes-Gascon being humble. The brand’s handbags and ready-to-wear regularly sell out at retailers like Nordstrom and SSENSE. Critics hailed the brand’s Spring 2026 runway as one of New York Fashion Week’s bright spots in an otherwise dreary season. Andes-Gascon and McKinney have since upgraded to a larger studio in Red Hook, Brooklyn, with plans for in-store shopping appointments. They’ve also moved into separate apartments, ending their ten-year roommateship.

The designers call the change bittersweet, but exciting. If they could turn leather scraps into It bags on a kitchen floor, imagine what comes next.

Vanessa Bellan of V. Bellan

Vanessa Bellan, founder of modern heirloom brand V. Bellan, believes jewelry is most powerful when it’s rooted in a compelling narrative. “Storytelling is what gives a design its meaning—without it, it’s nothing more than metal.”

With a lifelong love of jewelry making and over a decade of experience working alongside artisans and production houses, Bellan knows a thing or two about what makes the perfect piece. But it wasn’t until 2020 that she stepped out on her own to begin a new chapter, launching her namesake label after suffering the tragic loss of her daughter. Determined to channel her pain into purpose, Bellan began crafting gems she imagined her daughter would have borrowed and cherished.

“To honor my daughter, I made a line of pendants engraved with her initials,” she says. While it originated as a form of healing, V. Bellan later blossomed into an assortment of gender-neutral accessories, ranging from sculptural rings anchored in gold to chain bracelets adorned with freshwater pearls.

Bellan’s designs have since caught the attention of style insiders everywhere, even earning her a coveted spot within the Black in Fashion Council’s Fall 2024 Discovery Showroom.

“My creative process is deeply connected to my own path,” Bellan says. Although she was born and raised in Massachusetts, the Haitian-American designer has lived in New York for two decades, and her work reflects the many seasons of her life in the city. “From navigating loss to celebrating love, it’s those transformative moments that fuel my collections,” she says.

Her latest launch, Ceremony I + II, is a bridal line brimming with scintillating diamond necklaces and romantic amazonite earrings. “What I love most about this curation, and really about my work, is that every piece is defined by a quiet form of power—whether it’s a subtle touch of texture or an unexpected silhouette,” she says. “But above all, the jewelry that I create is timeless—and that balance is what makes it V. Bellan.” Each item is shaped by Bellan’s multifaceted journey, designed to ultimately become a special part of someone else’s life.

“A piece might be worn to honor a loved one, mark a personal milestone, or simply to feel beautiful,” she says. “The hope is that the wearer feels confident, grounded, and most importantly seen, knowing these treasures were made for their story.”

The second collaboration between Cecilie Bahnsen and The North Face accomplishes something I once found impossible: assembling an actually-chic rainy day outfit.

Sure, I've traveled to Copenhagen Fashion Week for several seasons in a row and seen how Bahnsen, one of Denmark's standout design talents, expertly balances artistry and practicality. I've sat in her atelier and heard directly from the designer about the "everyday couture" mindset that's defined her cult-beloved label for over a decade. "You are eventually designing for a woman to wear it and not just only for your creative vision," Bahnsen told me. "I think that's very interesting for me, kind of like a puzzle to solve."

Usually, it's a posture applied to day dresses—making frothy layers of tulle and semi-sheer chiffon wearable on bikes, hikes, and busy city streets. But in her latest collection with The North Face, available online and in select stores now, Cecilie Bahnsen's ethos is applied to a category of clothes that's the hardest to make chic, like heavy-duty winter coats, waterproof boots, and fleece tech jackets. Spoiler: She succeeds.

This Cecilie Bahnsen x The North Face capsule consists of seven pieces that make dressing for a downpour chic. I'm referring specifically to the footwear: a treaded boot with water-resistant soles and a puffer slipper. Both are covered in embossed flowers—a Bahnsen signature.

Then there's the more technical outerwear for days spent outdoors while temperatures drop. Each one comes in classic black or a rich, chocolate brown. From the cropped puffer jacket to a hooded thermal layer, handfuls of Bahnsen's dainty blossoms lighten the mood.

The second drop first appeared on Bahnsen's Fall 2025 runway during Paris Fashion Week. For any viewers who had trouble envisioning her North Face pieces out in the wild, the brands staged a campaign with athletes in Mølle and Kullaberg, Sweden. Out on the rugged coastline, the models made a case for facing the elements without losing any femininity.

While I can't say I'll take the pieces on a hike, I can see them instantly layering over my favorite fall and winter outfits on cloudy days. Each piece is well-insulated and waterproof, sure. But it's the whimsy in the bows and ruffles that makes me want to shop.

Ready to stand up to torrential downpours and laced with fashion insider appeal? I know why this collaboration got a sequel—and why I'm rushing to shop it before it sells out.

Cecilie Bahnsen x The North Face is available to shop online now.

When I meet the Belgian designer Glenn Martens, we're riding through London on a double-decker bus. On the outside, his name is printed where a delivery start-up ad would usually be, alongside two letters denoting one of fashion's biggest stages: H&M.

The current creative director of both Maison Margiela and Diesel is adding the title of H&M collaborator—a coveted position whose alums range from Simone Rocha and Marni to Karl Lagerfeld and Jimmy Choo—to his already packed résumé. H&M x Glenn Martens is set to launch shortly after our chat. Out the windows of the bus, the streets are filled with locals in extra-baggy jeans and distressed bomber jackets, a look that's trickled down from Martens' own runways, particularly from his collections for Diesel and Y/Project, which he designed for over a decade before leaving last year. (The brand has since shut down.) In conversation with the retailer's top creative advisor, Ann-Sofie Johansson, though, he brushes off the assumption that anyone beyond true fashion insiders would walk into an H&M store on October 30 and immediately clock a runway celebrity.

"We are all very aware that 95% of the customers at H&M don't know me and don't know my products," Martens tells me as we're jostled through Trafalgar Square. It's hard to read his expression behind silver tinted sunglasses and his own bomber from the collab, but I get the sense that a lack of recognition doesn't phase him.

What he says he cares about are shoppers' reactions to the crunched-up bags and twisted button-downs that got this collection started two years ago: "[They] will really gag seeing these kind of...strange items, and they will be like, 'What the fuck is happening here?'"

This is the thing about Glenn Martens: Even shoppers who are only getting a formal introduction to him in 2025 have definitely seen his work for years. They just haven't realized it.

After cutting his teeth at Jean Paul Gaultier and briefly running a namesake label, Martens took over Y/Project in 2013. That move ushered in an era of clear-strap tank tops and twisted, warped jeans—which then reappeared in his open-to-the-public Diesel shows. Across every "crazy crazy" brand he's designed for, Martens' work has trickled into the mainstream: Celebrities who aren't afraid of a fashion adventure have flocked toward his larger-than-life proportions and dangerously low-rise jeans. Most denim trends of the past five years can be traced back to his runways.

While Martens' hip-high boots and shredded denim dresses might not seem suited for anywhere but a Charli xcx music video, he insists they're "wearable." He qualifies, however, the goal isn't look good in a traditional sense.

"What I mostly do is, I really try to push things and it's not about beauty," he says. "It's often about creativity and concept."

This renegade approach to fashion made Johansson all the more excited to take Martens from niche fashion circles to a bigger stage.

"We thought, if Glenn had to Glenn-ify or make our best sellers more special and more personal and more fashionable, how would he do it?" she asks.

H&M let him go for all his greatest hits: bags with witchy curved bases, trompe l'oeil plaid skirts, jeans that are only jeans for the span of an undergarment, before turning into leather pants. The philosophy, he says, is the same no matter where he's designing: "I think of the challenge of how to build clothes. How can we find twists or Glenn-ify something basic? It's a little funky, little twist projected on basics to make you think twice."

Martens' reputation as a provocateur makes itself known when I ask which piece in the H&M collection best reflects his impact as a designer. "I mean, all of them, really, because there's so many," he says. (People who over-apologize in the workplace could learn from his confidence.) "A lot of them have certain chapters of my past designer's life."

He pauses so we can take in the scope of his career, and the London landmarks the bus passes by, before answering in earnest. "I personally of course love this jacket," he adds, gesturing to his crinkled, oversize bomber that can be shaped by hand. "Otherwise, I wouldn't wear it today."

Martens is in rarified company with his H&M collaboration—Lagerfeld is the only other designer whose collection with the retailer was known by their name and not a brand's. "Of course, it's super fun that you have underwear with my name on it. It's quite amazing and it's kind of absurd," he shrugs, brushing off the phenomenon of mass-produced personalized underwear before it can seem too shiny. "Business-wise," he deadpans, "it's not really gonna help me."

Still, I take note of the passerby ogling our bus when it stops a few minutes later. They take pictures of the signs outside, getting an introduction to Martens in real time.

When it launched in 2019, Parade underwear felt like more than just underwear. The brand, founded by Cami Téllez and Jack DeFuria in a Columbia University dorm room, registered like Gen Z's rebuke to Victoria's Secret. Its inclusive sizes ranged from XS to 3XL, a rarity at the time. Its unretouched campaigns were fronted by real-life ambassadors, known as "Parade Friends," and posted exclusively to Instagram. But the early momentum fizzled out over its six years in business, leading to a 2023 takeover by Fruit of the Loom owners Ariela & Associates. Now, Parade is closing its doors for good.

The brand posted a statement to its Instagram account on October 25 announcing its closure. By October 28, Parade's entire online store was replaced by a holding page sharing the same message.

“Parade was created with the intention to welcome you all to express yourself in full-spectrum color with confidence, and we hope we were able to create that space for you. We are so proud of this community we’ve built," the closing statement reads. "Inventory is limited on the site, but we hope you'll grab a pair to remember us by."

In the company's words, the last six years had been a "wild ride" for the brand. At its height, Parade had contracted more than 10,000 ambassadors and generated $10 million in annual revenue, per the Business of Fashion. Like other 2010s and 2020s challenger underwear brands like Savage x Fenty and ThirdLove, Parade sought to make the intimates landscape more inclusive. For a time, it had an advantage by designing patterns and prints that courted Gen Z specifically.

By 2023, Parade's rapid ascent sent it down a path trod by brands like Outdoor Voices and Away. Reports surfaced in outlets like Business Insider detailing mounting financial difficulties as it continued chasing more growth. She later stepped down from her role when Parade was sold to its new owners, Ariela & Associates, for an undisclosed sum. In the two years since, once-loyal shoppers have frequently lamented declining quality and customer service in the label's Instagram comments and on forums like Reddit.

Online, reactions to Parade's closure fell into two camps: shoppers who were disappointed to see the brand shut down, and shoppers who didn't feel the label lived up to its Instagram hype.

Marie Claire culture writer Quinci Legardye has shopped at Parade since 2022 for pajamas and loungewear. She called the label's shut-down a "shame."

"They're one of a few brands that sell cozy, trendy intimates in inclusive sizing that have shut down in the past few years, as well as Love, Vera," she says. "Without these brands, plus-size shoppers like me have very few options for cute, fun, affordable clothing."

Meguire Hennes, a member of Parade's target Gen Z demographic and a Marie Claire fashion writer, has mixed feelings about the brand's unexpected end. "The brand quite literally marketed their site to me, a 23-year-old sick of boring five-pack underwear. Unfortunately, they weren't as comfortable as their viral ads advertised," she says. "As someone particularly excited to wear plaid undies, I was sad they didn't work for me. However, you'll never catch me cheering when a label goes under."

Parade's closure arrives at a time when several venture-backed brands and small fashion businesses are experiencing financial turmoil, with root causes ranging from unpredictable tariffs to changing shopper preferences. While fashion has always been a difficult business, this brand's closing seemed unthinkable at its early-2020s peak.

"There are watershed brands that have redefined how brands should think, feel, act, and create," Téllez told Elle in 2022. "My goal is that Parade will be one of them."

Two decades after their initial launch, Louis Vuitton's Takashi Murakami collaborations are still some of the house's most coveted releases. The Japanese artist's twist on the Louis Vuitton Speedy is a fashion insider's holy grail; sightings on the arms of Kendall Jenner, Rihanna, and Elsa Hosk incite instant envy.

Naturally, this is the sort of partnership that isn't a one-time deal. Louis Vuitton and Takashi Murakami released their most recent collection in December 2024, with a joyful campaign fronted by brand ambassador Zendaya. But the most talked-about, and in-demand, was still yet to come. Today, October 21, the luxury handbag house announced the Artycapucines VII—Louis Vuitton x Takashi Murakami Collection, which is destined for sold-out status.

The line is exclusive as they come, including eleven "highly limited-edition," novelty iterations of Louis Vuitton's Capucines bag. Though all of Murakami's designs are defined by their air of technicolor whimsy, this collection dials that energy to the max. Each handbag plays into the theme, with the standouts leaning more sculpture-like than accessory.

The Capucines Mini Tentacle, for example, is a miniature interpretation of one of Murakami's most iconic sculptures. The baby pink bag comes encased with matching octopus tentacles. A standout, the Capucines Mini Mushroom, is covered in more than one hundred of the artist’s "fantastical mushroom" charms, which are hand-embroidered onto the bag’s silver canvas outer. The ornate piece costs $34,500 at retail.

This special-edition collection is accompanying an even more limited exhibit. Louis Vuitton is unveiling the collection in honor of Art Basel Paris 2025, tapping Murakami to curate an installation at the Balcon d’Honneur at the Grand Palais this week.

A-listers usually get first-dibs on rare collaborations, but their affinity for Louis Vuitton and Takashi Murakami is unparalleled. Rihanna owns several top-handle bags from the first go-round; so does Kendall Jenner. Zendaya, meanwhile, carried the 2.0 version all over her campaign and her London street style last winter.

Each of Murakami's new creations are available for pre-order now at any Louis Vuitton store now. Click fast: There's definitely an A-lister ready to snap up the exact same ones.

Over the past year, creative directors have swapped and traded fashion houses like baseball cards. Most of these designer appointments have been exclusively allocated to men—a disappointing trend that's felt impossible to ignore. But a long-overdue shift is finally taking place, centering woman designers ready to lead. Case in point: Grace Wales Bonner.

The famed menswear designer is branching beyond her namesake brand to the helm of Hermès, where she's set to take over the French label's mens department. Wales Bonner herself has previously expressed her desire to work at a heritage brand, naming Hermès specifically as her "dream" role. Six years later, the 35-year-old creative has finally manifested the position.

In System Magazine's Spring/Summer 2019 issue, the designer spoke about her longterm career goals—namely, her desire to pivot to a historic brand. "I am interested in the idea of an institution and fashion having parameters. A house with heritage is interesting to me, because I am interested in a framework and then disrupting elements of classicism within that," she told the publication.

"A dream of mine would be to work with a tailoring brand, as that is at the core of what I am doing. Maybe a brand like Hermès or even a Savile Row tailoring house," she said. More than half a decade later, this goal has finally become a reality. On Oct. 20, Hermès announced Wales Bonner would succeed Véronique Nichanian, who held the menswear creative director position for 37 years.

The appointment is more than wish fulfillment for the Central Saint Martins graduate. It's history in the making. Wales Bonner, who is of Jamaican-English descent, will be the first Black woman to helm a major European fashion house.

"I am deeply honored to be entrusted with the role of creative director of Hermès men’s ready-to-wear," she said in a statement. "It is a dream realized to embark on this new chapter, following in a lineage of inspired craftspeople and designers."

Wales Bonner has been preparing for this moment since 2014, when she first opened her namesake label. From a constantly sold-out Adidas collaboration to a stint designing pieces for a Dior Resort collection, she's built a reputation for culture-shifting hero pieces and impeccable tailoring.

Grace Wales Bonner's new role comes on the heels of several other woman designers who have recently taken over luxury brands. Last week, Fendi announced Maria Grazia Chiuri would henceforth lead the brand, after nearly a decade at Dior. One month prior, Proenza Schouler announced Rachel Scott of Diotima would replace founders Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez as creative director.

Here's hoping these appointments aren't just a trend, but a sign of a lasting shift.

Shop Wales Bonner Designs

When I first saw a hoop skirt wobble past me on a Spring 2026 runway—at Tibi, one early morning in September—I didn't think much of it. I figured it would be a one-off, the brand's way of experimenting with form and shape for a new season.

Then came the second, the third, and the fourth. Hoop skirts teetered out in collections across London, Milan, and Paris—in semi-sheer florals and gauzy creams, accompanied by hip-enhancing panniers that could knock over a bystander. All of a sudden, I felt like I'd fallen sideways through time and into Las Meninas, the seventeenth-century painting of Spanish nobility by Diego Velázquez, where guardainfantes (skirts that are flat in front and long on the sides) are the front-and-center uniform. All these years later, the look is back.

From up-and-comers like Julie Kegel and Meruert Tolegen, to industry stalwarts like Dior and Dries Van Noten, designers are drawing a silhouette for Spring 2026 that greatly exaggerates the hips. Whether they're crafted from featherlight tulle (at Cecilie Bahnsen) or sculpted from layers and layers of tweedy fabric (in a show-closing look at Bottega Veneta), this season's skirts jut out at extreme right angles, creating a déhanché effect at an exponentially larger scale.

It's obvious that the bodies wearing them aren't of the same proportions. There's emphasis on an extra-large curve without one necessarily existing underneath. In other words: These hips do lie.

The charitable read is that these are an interpretation of "taking up space": a way for women to assert their autonomy by wearing a shield against the rest of the world and keeping everyone else at a double hip's distance. But examined in the context of 2025—a moment when size inclusion on the runway is declining, the conversation around body positivity has seemingly stagnated, and usage of rapid weight-loss drugs is on the rise—the message in these pieces can feel much more complicated.

The shapes designers are referencing for the women of now are centuries old. Some of the first known panniers arose in seventeenth-century Spain, evolving from a conical hoop skirt prevalent the century before, according to Daniel James Cole, adjunct assistant professor in the Fashion Department at FIT. In past uses, the size and shape indicated hierarchy: The higher the social status (and the formality of the occasion), the bigger the skirt.

By the mid-nineteenth century, silhouettes had evolved to resemble what's generally accepted as the idea of a hoop skirt. With internal curved supports beneath a broad swathe of fabric, "women could achieve volume but not be hampered by layers of petticoats," says Nancy Deihl, historian of fashion and chair of the Department of Art and Art Professions at NYU's Steinhardt School of Culture, Education, and Human Development.

Similar to the panniers, hoop skirts were all about conveying status and gentility. "[I]t could be said that the intent was really volume and what was seen as elegance at that time," Deihl says. "Because the hoop skirts were really empty underneath, they swayed like bells and were reportedly seductive and a bit revealing in their own way."

In other words: The shapes we're seeing on the runways now were originally meant to evoke the female form without showing it. But as times and mores shifted—and women could wear fewer and fewer layers—their presence waned.

"I think they fell out of fashion because the awkwardness of them was antithetical to the changes of the modern world," Cole says. "The modernization of fashion that occurred at different points of the twentieth century was not in keeping with something of this nature."

"It's not hard to imagine why they only seem historic, since such styles are not very well suited for modern life—other than for the bridal market and red-carpet extravagance, when the only activity is to be seen," Deihl adds.

Cole points out a few houses, like McQueen under Sarah Burton's direction, plopped the occasional extra-large skirt into their twenty-first century runways. And fashion has historically shown an enduring fascination with shapes in a catwalk context. The prevalence of hoop skirts en masse in this season, however, is a shift—or, at the very least, a progression of a body modification moment of sorts.

For Fall 2025, designers like Alaïa and Schiaparelli introduced sculpted blazers with extra nipped-in waists and tubular hip extensions. While curved clothing prevailed, though, bodies with curves have disappeared: According to a Vogue Business study, size inclusivity on the runway reached an all-time low last season.

Official casting numbers from Spring 2026 haven't been tallied up across the markets yet. But observationally, the hoop skirts and panniers we're seeing on the runways are being modeled by one, sample-sized body type.
It suggests that, with the right garment, anyone can simply cosplay as curvy, putting on this silhouette then taking it off when they're done.

Maybe in another era the return of voluminous skirts would feel like wearable empowerment; an assertion of presence that grows in tandem with the skirt's circumference. The likelihood of these pieces going anywhere but a magazine editorial are also slim—most designers only produce the more commercial-friendly pieces from their collections in the end. But in a cultural moment when the pressure for women to shrink their bodies is so pervasive, even seeing this Spring 2026 trend feels more like a lot of hot air.

It was a cloudy mid-September Tuesday in New York City, the type when Mother Nature can’t make up her mind whether she wants to rain or not. Still, there was enough color in the back room of Cafe Zaffri to stave off the gloom. There, Ashley Moubayed was hosting her first official New York Fashion Week event for her jewelry brand, Don’t Let Disco. Half a presentation of Moubayed’s spring 2026 collection, half a pop-up beading bar for guests to create their own token.

Seven or so models—a few were members of the 2021-launched brand's small team—wore layered beaded necklaces and tasseled stands from the new collection. Editors, buyers, and voices of the fashion commentariat (I recognized at least four Substack authors I follow) sat at white-tablecloth tables stringing vintage beads, rock crystals, and pearls onto cords. One woman brought her black cat, Pi, with a turquoise Don't Let Disco charm clipped to its collar. The entire event felt like a convention of cool girls just as much as it did a tactile exercise to satisfy your inner child.

The goal of the afternoon was connection: between the guests, when they asked their neighbor for advice on which bead to place next, and between attendees and the jewelry they made. “I like the idea of the customer being involved in the process,” Moubayed, 36, told me on a video call two weeks before her formal NYFW debut. “That's missing from luxury now—people just want something for the face of it or the status that it comes with. But luxury is more than that; it should really be an entire world you’re an active participant in."

In the world of Don’t Let Disco, there's one key tenet to know: a bead is more than just a bauble. “My mission is to elevate the humble bead into the realm of fine jewelry—to get people to understand the stories behind each bead, and to realize that there is a richness and a luxury in these stories,” says Moubayed.

The Bed Stuy, Brooklyn-based designer uses found and secondhand materials, either purchased at auction, bought from antiques dealers, or deconstructed from jewelry deemed unfit for sale and donated by The RealReal. “There are so many incredible, beautiful things that already exist in this world. We don't let them go.” (Say that slower: Don’t let them go. Don’t Let Disco. Hear it?) “Instead, we reimagine them.”

With some gentle TLC and a bath in dish soap, rare African resin beads from the turn of the century, covered in rusty patina, can glisten like red cherries. Sea glass, coral, and shells become the Bounty of the Bine choker. A vintage Pucci silk scarf can be taken apart and turned into a cord necklace for a pendant.

Moubayed has loved vintage jewelry since she was a young girl growing up in Cleveland, Ohio. Her mom, coincidentally named Jewel, took her daughter to comb through antique stores and estate sales. In high school, when thrifting became a new fun activity for teenage millennials, Moubayed would deep dive into the costume jewelry bins at Salvation Army. She got her first taste for entrepreneurship at Spelman College, where the budding designer sold the jewelry she made in between marketing and account management classes at the school's weekly pop-up market.

After graduating, and following a stint at Ogilvy, Moubayed joined Sotheby's as the marketing director. "As a textbook Libra who loves rare objects and extraordinary art, it was like being a kid in a candy shop," she says. At the fine art auction house, she honed her eye as an aesthete even more. Passing by the works from Renaissance Masters on your walk to the conference room every day makes it natural to want only to surround yourself with the finer things.

Moubayed began beading again and gifted her Sotheby’s “work wife” a bracelet. A month later, the same co-worker commissioned 25 custom beaded bracelets for a bachelorette trip to Turks and Caicos. More of Moubayed’s friends wanted their own designs, and she started selling her work at small NYC craft markets and on a website she ran solo.

But, as many entrepreneurs know, the early days of brand building are costly. Moubayed was still at her Sotheby’s nine-to-five and could only bead after work and in the wee hours of the morning. Exhausted, she asked the universe for a sign and found it on a phone call with her grandmother. She launched Don’t Let Disco full-time in May 2021. Cut to now, and she’s a 2025 CFDA Fashion Fund finalist and presenting her work on the last day of NYFW.

There’s “more magic than logic” to Moubayed’s design process. “The beads kind of tell me where they want to go; I know that sounds silly, but I talk to them over time,” says the designer. There’s a dialogue in every Don’t Let Disco piece; between the textures and materials— “the ancient stillness of jade next to the cool, vibrant energy of coral”—or its backstory—“ceramic beads from a ‘60s necklace with futuristic rock crystals that are Fulani protection amulets I bought from my African antiques dealer.”

At the brand’s signature pop-up beading bars, like the one from its NYFW debut, customers are invited to create their own combinations. "[The beading bars are] about educating the buyer to appreciate the craft, become a steward of the brand, and understand the labor that goes into these pieces and why they’re paying $1,100 for a beaded necklace,” says Moubayed, who’s also currently studying colored stones and diamonds at the Gemological Institute of America.

Greater community building is on the docket for Don't Let Disco in the months to come. Moubayed is launching a loyalty program for the brand's top thirty buyers, earning them early shopping access and special rates on the beading bars ($295 is the standard price for a ticket). She also plans to roll out a "reimagining option," where clients can bring their existing pieces into Don't Let Disco's soon-to-open Dumbo showroom, and artists will add new beads and rework existing ones.

More broadly, she hopes the appeal of making the old new again, ad infinitum, catches on with the mainstream. “I hope people see the luxury and elevation in turning storied, discarded treasures into something new and different that you can have for a long time,” Moubayed says. “That's the really wonderful part of jewelry and beading: It’s a constant cycle of beauty and things can constantly be reimagined.”

Five years ago, Hillary Taymour, the founder of one of New York City’s buzziest independent fashion labels, Collina Strada, was interviewing for a new job. A creative director post had opened at a European women’s luxury brand—and if Taymour landed the role, she’d level up from dressing a devoted, US-based clientele to designing for millions of women worldwide. After eight months spent interviewing with HR reps and company executives, the SCAD alum felt confident she’d landed the gig. She even began packing her bags, arranged for someone to take over her Manhattan lease, and planned her first-day outfit as the new leader of a heritage fashion house.

But then the brand called back with a disheartening update. A male designer was selected instead. Taymour was heartbroken, but not surprised. To date, she’s been in the running for creative director openings at seven other women’s luxury brands. All but one position went to a male designer; an exception she says was simply a company mandate. “The lack of women being given the opportunity to dress women is appalling,” Taymour says, resigned, on a Zoom call in June.

Her story crystallizes a broader issue at the top of the fashion food chain: coveted luxury womenswear creative director roles—those who design runway collections and set trends that eventually filter down to fast fashion—are still overwhelmingly held by men. Despite luxury fashion being an industry built around what women want to wear, women are rarely given a say in what that actually is.

Over the last few years, the major luxury houses have been playing a game of “creative director musical chairs,” as the fashion commentariat has come to call it. Alessandro Michele left Gucci and is now at Valentino; Pierpaolo Piccioli, previously at Valentino, starts at Balenciaga this October. Demna Gvasalia, formerly of Balenciaga, has taken over at Gucci, following a two-year tenure by Sabato De Sarno, who took over from Michele.

The turnover tumult has been entertaining, sure, but deeply disappointing in terms of gender diversity. Two legacy women creative directors, Maria Grazia Chiuri for Dior and Virginie Viard at Chanel, were benched and replaced by Jonathan Anderson (Dior) and Mathieu Blazy (Chanel). A few female designers have recently risen through the ranks—Rachel Scott took on Proenza Schouler’s top slot, and Meryll Rogge was appointed at Marni—but even still, the disparity is stark; Currently, only ten of 33 creative director roles at fashion houses designing for women are held by women, and only two are women of color. Statistically speaking, women shaping luxury from the top down are as rare in 2025 as they were in Gabrielle Bonheur “Coco” Chanel’s 1910s heyday.

Being a woman isn't a job requirement to design for women, of course. Countless talented male artists throughout history and at present make phenomenal, well-fitting, and fully realized womenswear. But the lack of women behind the runways suggests a deeper issue.

Candidates are certainly qualified. Female designers like Grace Wales Bonner, Martine Rose, Simone Rocha, and numerous others frequently earn six-figure grants and awards from the CFDA Fashion Fund and the LVMH Prize, both of which are akin to 24-karat résumé gold stars. These women are also the brains behind highly lucrative, massively viral items: Bonner’s take on the Adidas Samba continues to sell out at every drop. Whenever Taymour interviews at a fashion house, executives rave about her brand’s sales doubling year-over-year sales since its launch in 2009.

But the same obstacle continues to arise: women working within corporate structures are often praised but seldom promoted. A 2024 Women in the Workplace report from McKinsey discovered that women are significantly less likely to see upward career growth regardless of their performance, and this “broken rung in the corporate ladder” keeps their careers at a standstill.

Mimma Viglezio, a former executive vice president for global communications at Gucci Group, says the inherent male culture of luxury fashion’s C-Suites makes it difficult for decisions to go in a woman’s favor. “There's nobody in the boardroom saying, ‘We don't want women,’ or that women aren’t good enough. But male executives see a woman at the head of a brand as a risk,” she explains. Years ago, a luxury jeweler’s CEO told her bluntly, “The problem with hiring young women? You get pregnant, take a year off, and I still have to pay you.”

Disturbingly, Viglezio's experience in the early aughts mirrors Taymour's from today: “To even be considered for these creative director jobs, I have to go into these meetings and say, ‘Hi, I'm a woman. I'm willing to move, and I'm not planning on having children.' At this point, I think I need to show them an X-ray of my hysterectomy," says the designer.

It’s counterintuitive that companies resist putting women in charge—even as it undercuts their own bottom lines. The global women’s apparel market is projected to hit $1 trillion in 2027, while men’s will come closer to $639.12 billion, according to UniformMarket, a statistics-led e-commerce platform. And as recent history shows, women are incentivized to put their 80 percent of total consumer spending power toward brands where they see themselves reflected. Under Chiuri’s leadership at Dior, female empowerment became a guiding principle—whether through a sculpted hourglass skirt suit or an unmissable “We should all be feminists” slogan tee—and brand sales jumped from €2.7 billion in 2018 to more than €9 billion by 2023, per HSBC estimates. Meanwhile, luxury sourcing expert Gab Waller began receiving Chloé requests for the first time in her seven-year career after Chemena Kamali’s Fall 2024 debut of sensual, unfussy blush chiffon and lace silhouettes.

We’ve seen that when a female creative director has her own distinct, influential style, she becomes the ultimate consumer archetype and brand ambassador. Take The Row, which reached a $1 billion valuation in 2024 by selling functional, freaky footwear and modern bohemian basics like easy maxi dresses and big, beat-up totes. Their creators? Two impeccably dressed sisters at the helm with a nearly all-women team beside them. “When you buy into that brand, you are buying into the idea that you might possess an iota of the insouciant, cool style that Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen have,” says Mosha Lundström Halbert, fashion and culture journalist and founder of NEWSFASH.

Waller adds that anything once touched by designer Phoebe Philo—a woman who makes offbeat elegance look as effortless as breathing—is regarded as holy by her clients. “I still get requests for particular styles from her Celine era (Philo served as creative director from 2008 to 2017), and her shoes are our best-selling, most-requested category,” she says. “I’m receiving a lot of requests across the U.S., the Middle East, and the U.K. for a burgundy sandal from Philo’s solo line—I rarely see items with that level of global pull.”

That isn’t an accident: Quite literally, female designers understand what it’s like to walk in their customers’ footsteps. They sympathize with the frustration of trying to put an iPhone into a too-small pants pocket or finagling with an open-back blouse that doesn’t allow for a bra. They know an oversized jacket is a godsend on 12-hour days out of the house, because it has room for an extra layer underneath. “The design touches female designers often use are like little winks—I see you, and I understand your life and your body,” Lundström Halbert adds. “They’re not added bonuses—just aspects of good design.”

Which is why some firebrand female designers have carved out their own spaces rather than wait for gatekeepers to make room, to lucrative effect. Six years after Phoebe Philo left Celine, her namesake direct-to-consumer collections so frequently sold out that she expanded to luxury department stores. The multi-billion-dollar girlhood aesthetic is rooted in Simone Rocha and Sandy Liang’s independent runways, which both began with pop-up stores and Substack shout-outs from devoted fans. The It bag Hall of Fame of today contains as many pieces from The Row as it does Louis Vuitton or Gucci—even though it doesn’t belong to a major conglomerate. All proving that corporate luxury’s support is a legitimacy boost in the eyes of the industry—not a definitional requirement for success.

Still, it would be nice to have it. At the time of our interview, Taymour was in the running for another creative director gig at a women’s luxury brand. A month later, the designer heard she hadn’t gotten the role, but a female peer had. It was another disappointment—but at least, this time, with a silver lining.

This story appears in the 2025 Changemakers Issue of Marie Claire.

Curating stylish vacation outfits is its own cottage industry in 2025. Influencers hawk curated packing lists by destination; entire brands rise and fall to offer entire wardrobes designated for a single trip (and the accompanying Instagram photoshoot). The underlying message is that your everyday wardrobe has no place in your carry-on bag. Dressing with ease? That’s reserved for weekends at home.

Ralph Lauren's Spring 2026 fashion show kicked off New York Fashion Week on September 10 with a different approach. Why not be who you already are when you log off, just in a slightly more relaxed font?

With the right styling, Ralph Lauren's runway demonstrates that the same wardrobe can work whether you're clocked in or out. Blazers can be worn on the beach; performance review pants can be paired with a T-shirt and shell necklaces. The Spring 2026 collection is a blueprint for bringing boardroom staples straight into downtime.

In show notes, the designer called his ethos "unfussy allure." All the signatures that have made Ralph Lauren a legend of American design over the past sixty years were still present—like sporting jackets, pleated trousers cut just so, and the occasional sundress—but they were filtered through a sun-drenched lens. White blazers were the common thread, often paired with crochet microshorts or a billowing maxi skirt and bra top instead of matching pants. Jackets across the red, white, and black lineup were left unbuttoned to show a flash of a bandeau top and a heap of silver jewelry. One model swapped this year's ever-present scarf belt trend with a striped tie looped around her waist—like she'd just left a presentation and loosened her collar.

There were a few moments that channeled classic spring style, too, like a red midi dress with a corseted bodice and an extra-large sunhat. I'm sure Taylor Swift, who wore Ralph Lauren in her engagement photos, will shop its bias-cut white silk dress for her bridal trousseau.

Much of the runway, set to a beach bar-style acoustic cover of "More Than a Woman," seemed to evoke a suitcase packed for a corporate seaside retreat. But its philosophy of de-powered suiting can easily translate to a proper office (and a more covered-up dress code). Several looks were styled with stacks of Juju Vera-like silver pendants and shell bracelets. The Ralph Bag, one of the label's signature totes, was summer-ified with wicker raffia and a bamboo handle, with proportions capable of holding a 15" laptop or a bundle of beach towels. All these touches are much more practical for daytime than the age-old advice of, say, styling a swimsuit as a bodysuit. Still, they all possess the same charm of paid time off.

In recent seasons, designers have been infatuated with interrogating the work wardrobe. More often than not, they've landed on self-serious gray pencil skirts and wide-leg black trousers paired with matching tops. It's a vibe Marie Claire editor-in-chief Nikki Ogunnaike once called "sexy Severance." Clothes that follow cubicle dress codes exactly definitely have their place, of course. But in a Ralph Lauren wardrobe, there are such things as pieces that embody work-life balance.

A paragon of Italian fashion, the "maestro" who made power suits a wardrobe essential in the 1980s and introduced custom design to the celebrity red carpet, has left the fashion world mourning. On September 4, the Armani Group confirmed that its founder and creative director, Giorgio Armani, had died at the age of 91.

The company issued a statement saying, "Il Signor Armani, as he was always respectfully and admiringly called by employees and collaborators, passed away peacefully, surrounded by his loved ones." "Indefatigable to the end, he worked until his final days, dedicating himself to the company, the collections, and the many ongoing and future projects."

On social media, industry insiders and stars, including supermodel Linda Evangelista, former creative director Donatella Versace, entrepreneur Martha Stewart, and actresses including Gemma Chan, Reese Witherspoon, and Kerry Washington paid their respects to the designer known as "Il Maestro" and "the King" at the height of his powers.

Mr. Armani, as he was also called, didn't begin his design career until the mid-1970s, at the age of 40, when he decided to start his own label. Less than a decade later, he graced the cover of Time magazine, contributed to several major films' costume departments, and dressed stars like Italian legend Sophia Loren. By the 1990s, "Armani" had become a symbol of both awards season and corporate offices: career women wore Armani suits to feel powerful, while actresses and musicians relied on Armani for their biggest stage moments.

Casual observers today may take it for granted that celebrities show up to their premieres and award shows in bespoke Armani Privé gowns. It was never guaranteed that women like Viola Davis or Angelina Jolie would tackle the awards season circuit in the label. His mastery of tailoring—first perfected in slouchy suiting that migrated from menswear to womenswear—appealingly translated to custom gowns, however.

In a 2013 interview with The Telegraph, Mr. Armani explained that he was "one of the first designers to dress stars on and off screen." Before working with him, "They didn’t always have a particular style, or the dress sense to know what to wear for an occasion. I helped them feel more confident and relaxed."

As news circulated of Mr. Armani's passing, so did retrospectives on his looks for the likes of Beyoncé, Salma Hayek, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Taylor Swift.

Stylist Brad Goreski reflected on Armani's dresses for Demi Moore's awards season campaign this past winter. Her first major win for a dramatic role arrived at the 2025 Golden Globes, where she was dressed in an Armani Privé gown channeling her trophy's shine. "We were so lucky to get to wear his gorgeous Privé designs to Cannes and have custom gowns made for her for the Golden Globes and Oscars," Goreski wrote. "Thank you for the amazing memories and the pleasure of working with you."

Samantha McMillen, stylist to Elle Fanning and Dakota Fanning, recalled her early career working in the Armani atelier before her second act. " I could write a book about the incredible experience I had working under Signor Armani and his unparalleled team," she wrote. "Thank you for trusting me to see your vision and help dress nearly every upcoming, established and legendary personality in film, music, sport, the art world and beyond. We forged relationships I hold dear to this day and I wouldn’t be who I am today without your influence and work ethic."

A-listers sent more condolences on their profiles, with throwback photos of their favorite Armani pieces. "What a dream it was to work with Giorgio Armani! A legendary designer who offered the world so much style, elegance & grace," Reese Witherspoon wrote on Instagram. "I will be forever grateful that I got to wear so many of his beautiful gowns."

Kerry Washington recalled that Armani was the first designer to lend her a dress for her first Hollywood event. "He was always generous and kind, and the fact that someone of his stature believed in me meant the world because he was an extraordinary artist and a visionary," she wrote. "He and his family will always hold a special place in my heart, my prayers go out to them."

Giorgio Armani appeared at his last runway show earlier this year. His fingerprints are all over the 2025 Venice Film Festival red carpet, where stars including Cate Blanchett, Gemma Chan, Kaitlyn Dever, and Sadie Sink have worn a mixture of suiting and bespoke gowns from the house. In street style, his influence lives on in the resurgence of 1980s-inspired suiting and hats: a combination that first got its footing on the Armani runways the first time around.

The Armani Group has not yet announced who will succeed its industry-shaping founder. In the meantime, fashion creator @ideservecouture may have summed up the industry's feelings best in his farewell to the designer. "A man that always deserved a standing ovation," he wrote alongside a video capturing one of Mr. Armani's final bows. "Your vision and your outlook on beauty will definitely be missed."

Since 2002, Proenza Schouler has been New York Fashion Week's pre-eminent destination for downtown women with an elevated minimalist streak. Kendall Jenner frequently guest-stars on its runways; cool girls like Chloë Sevigny, Ayo Edebiri, and Sofia Richie-Grainge often sit in its front row. Now, the brand is set to be led by the type of woman it dresses.

On September 2, the brand announced Diotima designer Rachel Scott is the incoming creative director. She replaces founders Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez, who were appointed to helm Loewe earlier this summer. Line Sheet, a fashion insider favorite newsletter published by Puck, first hinted at the appointment earlier this summer.

Scott has steadily become an industry favorite during her time at Diotima, a crochet-forward label that fuses her Jamaican heritage with New York City tailoring. The two-piece sets and netted dresses she's created since 2021 are carried everywhere from Moda Operandi to Bergdorf Goodman, and she has amassed fans including Katie Holmes, Natasha Lyonne, and Laura Harrier. Last year, she received the CFDA's prestigious Womenswear Designer of the Year award.

She was also featured as one of ten designers in Marie Claire's 2024 Craftsmanship Issue. Speaking with fashion features editor Emma Childs, Scott mentioned that every item she designs has an "element of the hand" and a refreshingly cross-cultural perspective. "I work with crochet artisans in Jamaica, I work with tailors in New York City, and I work with embellishment and other hand techniques in India. This freedom and re-evaluation of value is very exciting," she said.

The incoming Proenza Schouler designer will have time to develop her vision for the label. She still planning to show a Diotima collection at New York Fashion Week this fall; her first full Proenza Schouler collection will debut next spring, for the Fall 2026 season.

“Rachel brings a fresh and female perspective to a brand built on the spirit of the modern American woman,” Proenza Schouler CEO Shira Suveyke Snyder said in a press release first shared in Business of Fashion. “Her profound understanding of Proenza Schouler’s brand codes, paired with her exceptional ability to marry craft with innovation, made her the natural choice to lead the brand forward.”

Scott's appointment comes at a time when fashion leadership is in flux—and not always representative of the women it dresses. Over the past year, a cascade of resignations and re-assignments caused shake-ups at several major houses across Europe, including Chanel, Dior, Valentino, and Bottega Veneta. Only the latter appointed a female designer, Louis Trotter.

On the New York Fashion Week schedule, Veronica Leoni's promotion to creative director at Calvin Klein Collection similarly drew headlines last year. She's the first woman to lead the all-American label; she's also part of a small cohort of women at the top of a major NYC-based brand.

Creating clothing that women love to wear doesn't depend on a specific gender identity, of course. But with most agenda-setting labels excluding women from leadership roles, seeing an appointment like Scott's sends a strong message. Now, the countdown is on until her first direction-setting collection.

The unofficial face of the modern French girl style movement, Rouje founder Jeanne Damas, has some news for the Americans among her 1.5 million Instagram followers. First, that they can't necessarily shop their way to her distinctly Parisian aesthetic with a themed checklist or an open tab at her nine-year-old brand. "I think French style is more of an attitude than a particular look," she tells me in an email. "It has to do with the way you carry yourself, the way you move, and of course, Paris as a backdrop."

Second, we Marais boutique-deprived, baguette-hungry Americans can find something just as aspirational at J.Crew this summer—and it's equally influenced by a city close to home and a favorite fashion capital abroad. Rouje is the latest brand to collaborate with J.Crew on a $350-and-under collection, launching today, July 23. It joins a prolific roster of small-batch, cult-beloved designer capsules dreamed up by creative director Olympia Gayot, Christopher John Rogers, Alighieri, and Maryam Nassir-Zadeh among them.

Gayot tells me in a email she had followed Damas online "for years," like much of Damas's US-based fanbase. But where the average American saw a strictly Parisian sense of style, Gayot saw common threads with the way she dresses in New York City, along with J.Crew's archive. By the time both fashion arbiters finally met through a friend, a collection bridging their two labels was imminent. "After our first conversation, we quickly kicked off a partnership, sparked by a shared sense of excitement and admiration for each other’s brands," Gayot says.

J.Crew collaborations excel at reinterpreting indie brands' hero items for a decidedly non-indie audience. Translating Rouje from its purely French roots to a cross-cultural collection would still require its top dress silhouette (the wrap dress) and its romantic color palette (lipstick red is a dominant shade). But Gayot and Damas also knew that their collection could just have clothes: It needed that attitude Damas mentioned to me.

So they built a starter-pack of cool girls integral to both cities' style histories, each creative picking from her new partner's current zip code. Damas's New York references were Kirsten Dunst and Carrie Bradshaw (no introduction needed), while Gayot looked at French model Laetitia Casta and singer Vanessa Paradis.

"We put everything on a board—some of our favorite film stills, collected images—and pulled together something that felt really unified and beautiful," Gayot says. "From there, we both sketched and developed a collection: a sort of 'summer in New York in the ’90s meets Sunday flea markets in Paris.'"

Of course, they also photographed the eventual lineup of dresses, knit tank tops, and one perfect red kitten mule heel in Paris. As Damas once told Fashionista upon the opening of Rouje's first NYC boutique, "In America, people seem to be more influenced by the image rather than the clothes." And these photos are ready-made for an "Outfit Inspiration" folder.

Damas sees both cities equally represented in the final assortment. "I think the preppy style of J.Crew and the romantic vibe of Rouje blend perfectly," she says. "I love knitwear sets, the little skirt with a lingerie feel, and the pointelle tank tops—true timeless pieces."

More importantly, they have a lifespan beyond either location. "I brought the printed dresses on vacation, and they’re perfect for right now," Gayot says, "but I can also see myself wearing them next season with ballet slippers, a barn jacket, and a big cashmere sweater."

Damas and Gayot prove it in all 18 pieces: New York and French style in 2025 have more overlap than shoppers assume. I came to agree after reviewing the J.Crew x Rouje collaboration item I'd wear anywhere.

J.Crew x Rouje Editor's Picks

I'd commuted to the office for collection try-on day wearing an understated—fine, boring—black dress. Once I swapped that minimalist starter piece for this Rouje set, I understood why my Marie Claire coworkers have similarly been expanding their color palettes through J.Crew's summer collection. The structure of the scoop-neck top and the contrasting lace-and-floral skirt are already unlike anything else I own, but it's the distinctive carnation print that felt like the deciding factor in wanting to wear this set all summer.

I felt Gayot's New York City energy when I paired the Fleur T-shirt and the Poème Lace-Trim Skirt. The tee is stretchy, soft, and lined with a pretty lettuce hem: It feels like the sort of shirt I could stumble across and a flea market and wonder how someone could ever give it up. Meanwhile, the skirt takes J.Crew's mastery of slip silhouettes and updates it with stripes of lace—and, even better, a lining underneath. These are items I could just as easily integrate into my New Yorker wardrobe or pair with other collaboration pieces. I'm already thinking of trying the skirt with an oversize button down and the tank version of the Fleur top.

If I could only narrow down my edit to a single piece, it would be the J.Crew x Rouje Rêverie dress. From the delicate painterly print to the slightly-open square back, it brought the romance of a walk along the Seine to my far-less-than-romantic Midtown routine at work. There were plenty of practical details to support the photogenic florals and flouncy skirt, including a comfortable ruched bodice and waist, plus iPhone-proportioned pockets. I found it to be true to size, so I went with a large. In sum: J'adore ça!

As Beyoncé emerged onstage for her first Cowboy Carter show in Paris, a piece of Rhode Island shimmered under the stadium lights with her.

The megastar first checked the fashion diplomacy box with a custom silver corset and hot pants by Thierry Mugler, a crown jewel of the French couture scene. Over the top, she added a shimmering beaded harness belt with origins 3,471 miles away. It was designed by Lindy McDonough, the Providence, RI-based creative director of the leather goods brand Lindquist. The designer's team handmade the belt; Jeremy Louis, a frequent Beyoncé collaborator, then coated it in bugle beads.

The "American Requiem" singer had never worn Lindquist before its debut in front of roughly 80,000 fans. And its selection by Beyoncé's styling team—Shiona Turini, Julia Gall, Tara Greville, and Erica Rice—was a sign of their thoughtful approach to wardrobing its headlining star.

Any given pop star's tour wardrobe today can include a list of designers reading like a luxury Hall of Fame directory. Sabrina Carpenter's Short 'N Sweet Tour came with bespoke Patou jumpsuits and custom Versace mini dresses. Olivia Rodrigo shreds her guitar on the Guts World Tour in custom Burberry briefs and Ludovic De Saint Sernin corset dresses. Taylor Swift had Roberto Cavalli, Versace, and Alberta Ferretti on speed-dial for her various Eras Tour costume changes. Beyoncé's Cowboy Carter outfits—a parade of denim jumpsuits, cowgirl boots, and ten-gallon hats—likewise flex her couture credentials, while also taking the time to support rising talents. More often than not, the best independent brands earning her onstage endorsement are women-led.

One stop before Beyoncé's Lindquist feature, she took the stage in London with a meaningful alternative to her fringed Loewe and Christian Louboutin boots. Instead, the star wore a pair of custom-made high-high leather platforms by Partlow. The L.A-based brand, helmed by sisters Kasey Lemkin and Lawren Sample, had already appeared in Beyoncé's offstage wardrobe. Getting tapped to create five-buckled boots with an 85mm platform was an even bigger honor.

For Partlow, Lindquist, and other on-the-rise labels Beyoncé endorses, a stage placement isn't just exposure. It's a business-altering vote of confidence at a time when women-led brands face threats from all sides—from tariffs to dupes to bone-dry fundraising markets.

There's deep symbolism at play too. From the outset of her Cowboy Carter era, Beyoncé has made a point to collaborate with women and independent designers with a deep understanding of the Out West aesthetic. At the Christmas Day 2024 Beyoncé Bowl, her first live performance with songs from the album, she commanded Houston's NRG Stadium in a custom white bodysuit and matching chaps, secured with a crystalline Cowboy Carter belt. Those pieces were created by Lindsey James Show Clothing, a destination for bespoke jackets worn by rodeo queens and barrel racers in the competition ring.

An album exploring and reinterpreting country music's roots all but required performance costumes stitched in the same traditions. When Beyoncé chose the brand for her debut performance, it was a sort of thesis statement: She was reclaiming both a sound and the look of country music for herself, with an authentic label's support.

She also brought a niche brand to an international stage while she did it. "My entire career has been focused on designing one-of-kind pieces that make an individual feel incredible in horse arenas across the world—in this moment in time, I’ve experienced the reverse effect," the designer wrote on Instagram shortly after the performance. "Beyoncé chose my design and made me feel all the emotions I’ve dreamt of creating for others all these years!"

As the Cowboy Carter tour traversed Europe and then headed back to the United States, Beyoncé and her styling team carefully ensured her Vivienne Westwood gowns and bedazzled Burberry bodysuits were paired with true cowgirl materials. Malone Souliers, a female-founded and operated shoe brand, crafted a pair of custom suede fringe boots for the New Jersey leg of the tour. When Beyoncé returned to Houston for her hometown shows, she brought custom-made chaps by Tongoro onstage with her. Designer Sarah Diouf confirmed they were handmade in Dakar, Sénégal, with cowries and crystals adorning each leg. The same night, she also debuted custom shearling briefs from Natasha Zinko, a Ukrainian designer based in London. Lindsey James Show Designs went along for the ride, too, outfitting Beyoncé's backup dancers.

On July 4, Independence Day in the United States, Beyoncé will unveil a new slate of custom Cowboy Carter outfits for a sold-out crowd in Washington, D.C. It's a prime stage for fashion that interrogates notions of patriotism and belonging in the same manner of Beyoncé's Grammy-winning lyrics. The star has no doubt saved some of her most pointed looks for this stop. And to get her message across, no one is a better fit to dress her than a women-led label.

Earlier today, Feb. 13, luxury conglomerate LVMH shared the list of 20 designers who had been named semifinalists for the annual LVMH Prize. They were chosen from over 2,300 applicants and hail from 15 countries. If they win at the prize ceremony in March, they'll earn unfettered access to mentorship from leading designers within the LVMH stable—along with the sort of funding that can make or break a small fashion brand.

The list includes names anyone training a close eye on the fashion month calendar's debut schedule will recognize: like Niklas Skovgaard, whose '80s-inspired dresses have been a fixture at Copenhagen Fashion Week in recent seasons, and All-In, the joint venture from Benjamin Barron and Bror August Vestbø that counts Charli XCX and Lily Rose-Depp among its rapidly-growing fanbase. It's a competitive race every year, and winners have gone on to become industry staples with backing from the panel of 80 fashion experts who decide the final prizes. (See: 2016 winner Grace Wales Bonner and 2020 finalist Chopova Lowena.) But this year's list makes this editor particularly excited about the future of fashion.

There is, of course, incontestable talent on display. Marie Claire fashion features editor Emma Childs was thrilled to see Kazakhstani designer Meruert Tolegen on the list, after Tolegen had thoroughly impressed our team during her New York Fashion Week debut one year ago. "Tolegen showed floral puffer coats, peplum bustiers, and lace-trimmed taffeta skirts that called on the unapologetic femininity of Simone Rocha and Cecilie Bahnsen," Childs tells me. "But by using heritage prints and craft techniques native to the Kazakh culture, Tolegen made it clear she's operating from an individual POV. I left the show beguiled by the brand and eager for all that was to come from her."

In lock-step with all 20 designers' attention to form, fit, and aesthetics comes a notable emphasis on forward-thinking design and inclusion. Six labels—including Boyedoe, Josh Tafoya, and the aforementioned All-In—produce genderless collections. Eight are helmed by women designers—notable in an industry where women don't often shop from designers who get them. Two London-based standouts, Tolu Coker and Torishéju Dumi, bring complementary (but not at all identical) interpretations of their founders Nigerian culture to the stages of London and Paris Fashion Week. And, they've done so while earning praise from the likes of Doechii and Zendaya.

"Dumi certainly knows how to put on a spectacle and generate hubbub," says Childs, "but above all, she's an artist with something to say."

The same assessment applies to Irish designer Sinéad O'Dwyer, who generated the biggest headlines at Copenhagen Fashion Week last August with a show that featured a fully size-inclusive cast. She also brought the fashion week's first visually-impaired model onto her modern workwear runway—a reminder that everyone can and should participate in fashion.

Outside fashion industry circles, distinctions like the LVMH Prize might not register. But trust that the home of Dior, Louis Vuitton, and Celine recognizing labels like Coker's and O'Dwyer's is a big deal. There's an implicit understanding here that great clothes are an essential part of the style conversation, but so are modes of expression that include more than the traditional perspective. And as the fashion business only gets more challenging for emerging labels, backing from powerhouses is all the more imperative to foster their growth.

Bottom line: We can all be proud of whoever wins in March.

So much pontificating has been done about the relatively simple question of what women want to wear.

For Ashlynn Park, the fashion designer behind the acclaimed womenswear brand Ashlyn (her first name; drop the second 'n'), the answer is intuitive: Women want high-quality clothes that complement, not complicate, their lives. "I'm 42 years old and have a little more experience than young designers," the South Korean-born designer tells me on a video call. "I know what women want to wear because I know what I want to wear."

She understands the need for a smart blazer to wear to work and a cute and cheeky top to wear after hours. She appreciates the accentuating curve of an hourglass shape like Christian Dior did with his 'New Look' Bar jackets. She can navigate the tightrope balance of aspirational clothing that's not intimidating—for example, the baggy black leather trousers that opened her Fall 2025 show at New York Fashion Week, which were devilishly cool but classic enough to wear without looking like a try-hard. I, along with my fellow overworked, overtired, and underfed fashion week guests in the room, exhaled. We were in good hands for the following 20-something looks: here with a master craftswoman at work.

It's not always that you leave a fashion show feeling satisfied. But when you do, it's an insatiable hit that leaves you hankering for more. "Once women get their hands on an Ashlyn piece, they cannot go to the other brands," says Park.

The designer, who cut her teeth as a pattern-maker under Yohji Yamamoto for the Japanese designer's collaborative line with Adidas, Y-3, has a fastidious eye for precision. "I've always been a very quiet kind of designer who's really more focused on the technical side of clothing," she says. Park spent over two years developing her brand's first-ever Spring 2021 collection, comprised of meticulously made blazers and bustle-back dresses. One ink-black, draped gown from her Spring 2025 edit took Park a month and a half to make—she had to sculpt the jersey just right.

"I've always loved math and physics, and making beautiful shapes from scratch is the same idea," says Park, who initially studied architecture before pivoting to a master's in fashion design from Tokyo's Bunka Fashion College. "It's about understanding the balance of all the forces—the gravity, the tension, the fabric, the material."

The more geometrically challenging a design, the more pleased Park is. Inspired by the late great Issey Miyake, Park creates clothing from single squares of fabric without waste or scraps—a complex blend of craft and sustainability that thoroughly summarizes Ashlyn's ethos. Look to Park's Dillan dress, a white shirt dress cut from a single piece of fabric in a zero-waste process. It can be worn short or long-sleeved and was purchased by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 2021 for its permanent collection.

Equally as impressive as her technical know-how is her commercial sense, which she credits to watching her entrepreneur father run a business during her adolescence. Her eponymous brand has an impressive 65-to-90 percent sell rate at retailer partners like Bergdorf Goodman and a fervent cult following among New York City artists who revere her for her quiet luxury sensibility. "These clients can't wear anything logo-driven from Louis Vuitton or Chanel because it'll distract from their art. So, they come to me and find curated Ashlyn pieces," says Park, who also spent stints at Alexander Wang, Nili Lotan, and then at Calvin Klein under Raf Simons.

Ashyn's story is the classic tale of the tortoise and the hare. As other wunderkind brands have had their flash-in-the-pan moments and then petered out, perhaps unable to sustain long-lasting commercial success or crumbling under the impossible pressure of being the next big It thing, Park's been quietly at work building a small but mighty brand with craft at its core.

As a result of her slow-but-steady approach, Park has carved out an impressive archive of Ashyln-only silhouettes. "As a fun project for my interns and team, I made them compete by chopping up rectangular pieces of fabric randomly and reassembling them without waste into new, interesting, and three-dimensional shapes. I call it the Puzzle Project," she says. The result is sculptural and organic garments, often buoyantly draped and surreal-feeling—like the bright red spaghetti-strap top that bubbled over free-flowing pleated jersey pants that closed out Ashlyn's Fall 2025 show.

Above all, the Puzzle project is a technique that Park can own. "I realized only using square shapes is very similar to the processes of Yohji (Yamamoto), Issey (Miyake), and Comme des Garçons, and I cannot be another unique designer if I only work with squares," she says. "I live in the Western world, but I'm bringing Eastern culture here. These puzzles are how I mix those cultures," Park says.

Park's Puzzle Project is also her way of passing the baton, taking it from the institutional legends she learned from and handing it off to the next generation. "Often, when we [alumni] Yohji, CDG, and Margiela people meet, we joke about how we graduated from [a whole other] school after going to [traditional] design school and working for them. These designers all care about having a foundation in product-making, and craftsmanship is everything because, without that knowledge, we cannot build new things at all," she says. "I want people who work at my brand to have the same education in craft. I want them to say, 'Oh, we graduated from the Ashlyn school.'"

As Yommamto taught her, Park wants her team to understand design in an abstract, creative sense, but chiefly in clothing construction. "Yohji would ask, 'Why did you put five pockets on the piece? Why did you choose the long sleeve? Which history inspired you?' If you couldn't come up with a good reason or didn't know an era and its design details, he would scold you," she says.

The illustrious Yommamto taught Park to be an uncompromising perfectionist, a methodology she's now implementing while forging her own path. "My standards are quite high. I start with the first idea and then refine and refine it until I feel satisfied; only then can I make it into a commercial piece," she says. I have to feel the energy that I want to express in the world."

That force field was palpable at the Fall 2025 show. Watching Park's knit peplum blazers and slinky tops that plunge just above the breastbone, I felt it in the air: she was on the precipice of taking Ashlyn to the next level. But unlike Yammamto and Miyake, Park has the acuity for womenswear that only comes from when a female fashion designer sits at the helm.

It's always special watching a superstar of craft at work. But it's all the more divine when someone like Park embodies womenswear in a way that men never can.

Shop a Selection of Ashlyn

They’re hard to miss in their Crayola-colored ballgowns, gold lamé barn jackets, and neon suits printed in candy stripes.

“They” are the “squirrels” of Christopher John Rogers, the Brooklyn-based designer whose high-spirited clothes you’ll recognize on Gigi Hadid and Zendaya and from the 2024 J.Crew collaboration that inspires grown adults to dress up in sequins and satin. According to friends of the brand, Christopher has bestowed the term of endearment to all fans of his work.

The squirrel club is not exclusive. You can have a stacked collection of CJR or own just one standalone piece to gain admission. The one other requirement is an appreciation for the exuberant world Rogers is building. Just as Truman Capote’s Swans fed the writer’s creativity, the designer sees his squirrels as muses—living, breathing manifestations of the CJR girl. He keeps a digital archive of his “Squirrels” on Instagram, dating back to his brand’s burgeoning days in 2019—around the time when Michelle Obama commissioned a sparkly cyan suit from Rogers and helped catapult him from a name to know in the New York scene to one of the most coveted craftsmen in the industry.

Why the word ‘squirrels’? No one knows—even Rogers’s furry friends don’t know their etymology. “It’s always on Chris’s lips, and I’ve actually never asked him why ‘squirrels,’ but it just made sense, so we all just went with it,” Pam Nasr, a film director and close friend of Rogers, says over the phone. “It’s kooky, bright, positive. Even the way it sounds—the squirrels is coincidentally a close sub-in to the girls.” And for Drag Race fans, the term calls on the same wink-wink, nudge-nudge familiarity of RuPaul’s "squirrel friends."

Plus, as culture has shown, a community works most effectively when it has a name to organize under; Beyoncé has her Beyhive, Nicki Minaj has her Barbz, and Taylor Swift has her Swifties.

CJR's squirrels are eager to gather as a group again for the showing of his Fall/Winter 2025 collection at New York Fashion Week—his return to NYFW after five years. Chloe King, a fashion veteran and friend of the brand, sees the “squirrel-verse” as a sacred space. “In the studio and after parties alongside former [fashion school] classmates, colleagues, or show seatmates—we find common ground as fans and dreamers. His collaborators and friends are warm, curious, and authentic—a rare combination of qualities in the industry and a direct reflection of who Chris is,” she says.

For King, the squirrels harken back to a bygone era when guests didn’t show up to a runway show to see or be seen—all that mattered was the glamour. “I imagine legends like Diana Vreeland and Andre Leon Talley would have loved [a CJR show],” she says.

But beyond NYC’s fashion bubble, the human squirrels are everywhere their animal namesakes roam. They’re in London and Seoul—worn by A-listers like Dua Lipa and Rihanna, and walking on the Venice Film Festival red carpet. Gallerist Alexis Johnson married in the middle of the Mexican jungle in a phenomenal sunshine yellow CJR gown with six tiers of ruffles—a custom-made dress for Johnson after she saw Zendaya wearing a similar one in a Bulgari ad. “The dress was an incredibly special and important factor in the day's joy. It wasn’t overly demure; it was big and bold and had no hesitations,” she says over the phone. Later, Johnson changed into a fun floral mini from Rogers’s 2021 collab with Target for her second-look reception dress.

Glorious occasionwear put Rogers on fashion people’s radar, but his everyday wear has made him beloved by the masses. Vintage dealer and the senior social editor at Old Navy Blythe Marks owns 10 mainline CJR pieces and a selection of dresses from his now-iconic Target collaboration. “I wear both equally and get just as many compliments on a $50 poplin dress I bought at Target as I do a $500 knit dress I scored on Net-a-Porter,” she says.

Skiwear designer and loyal squirrel Abigail Tananbaum wears CJR close to daily. She commissioned a look from Rogers for her rehearsal dinner in 2017—the two had a spontaneous meet-cute on a Manhattan block back when Rogers was still cutting his teeth at Diane Von Furstenberg—and has bought a piece from every collection since.

"Shopping [CJR] is such good cost per wear because it's not like you buy a piece and wear it once for an event—it's going to be your go-to for when you're brainless, don't know what to wear, and want to feel good," Tananbaum says. "There's just something straightforward about wearing his clothes. It's not, 'Oh no, can I pull off that neon jacket?' It's: 'Oh, yeah—I wore that neon jacket every day last spring."

The obvious benefit is that his expressive clothing is like a quick-hit sugar rush, counteracting the malaise and monotony of quiet luxury through color and shape. "Slipping into a CJR dress makes me feel the same way I do when I wear Dries Van Noten: artful, energized, and open to the possibilities around me, including interactions with total strangers," says Marks. "It's a kind of social fuel, rather than the shield that black clothing can sometimes be."

But, crucially, what’s so successful about Rogers is his commitment to craft. He won the prestigious CFDA Emerging Designer Award in 2019 and took home the American Womenswear Designer of the Year Award in 2021. The proof is in every piece of his clothing. A highlighter yellow suit is tailored to perfection, and a rainbow-striped sweater dress is meticulously designed to hit the sweet spot of the shin.

Journalist, podcaster, and longtime CJR muse Marjon Carlos met Rogers on the dancefloor of NYC’s late, great dim sum disco, China Chalet, in 2017—“I remember us dancing to Rihanna, and then it just took off from there." Carlos has had a front-row seat to watch the designer flourish. “[Rogers] is relentlessly committed to his vision and has not swayed or tried to be anyone but himself,” she says. His perspective is singular and attracts shoppers refreshed by the fact you can sense a heartbeat in his clothes.

As a result, Rogers has created a community where personal style isn’t something to sow discourse; it just comes naturally, like breathing in air and putting one foot in front of the other. So much so that a true squirrel doesn’t mind matching a fellow CJR fan. “You're most likely not going to be wearing the same CJR thing as someone else in the room, but if you are, it's not upsetting—it's a happy coincidence. “It's like, 'Oh, yeah, we both get it,’” says Tananbaum.

Nasr recalls showing up to a CJR and Vogue event in 2023 wearing the same exact beige corset as a close friend. “We were just so happy about it,” the director says. “I distinctly remember that I was going to text her beforehand and ask what she was wearing. I'm so glad I didn't because we both showed up in the same corset but styled it in our own separate ways. We were two peas in a CJR pod.”

And that’s the real magic of Christopher John Rogers: even when two style squirrels grab the same acorn, each one makes it uniquely their own.

From my seat in the front row, Caro Editions' Fall 2025 collection skyrocketed in my rankings of the best of Copenhagen Fashion Week collections on looks alone. There were sumptuous plaid coats with coquette bow closures; '80s-inspired drop-waist velvet dresses; and glitter-threaded tweed heels and boots to match each one. Designer Caroline Bille Brahe described the collection as "free-wheeling" yet "self-assured." Combining heavy-duty outerwear and suiting with upbeat plaids in shades of magenta, royal blue, and mossy green, she produced a collection with "serious intent and joyful outcome." I wanted to buy it all.

Then I glanced again at the show notes, and caught another manifestation of Bille Brahe's serious-yet-joyful ethos. Those boots I was falling head over heels for? They were crafted from deadstock Chanel tweed.

Sustainable touches like these came up again and again throughout Copenhagen Fashion Week's Fall 2025 season: surprising details that showed designers' crafty balance of staying eco-conscious and true to their identities. It's a one-two punch with major impact in today's fashion industry.

Copenhagen Fashion Week introduced sustainability requirements for all participating designers back in 2023, guidelines that include audits on labels' supply chains, collection materials, and workforces. Two years later, the Fall 2025 season arrived against a backdrop rendering sustainable design standards all the more important. 2024 was the hottest year on record; in spite of science supporting the climate crisis's acceleration, the United States had pulled out of the Paris Climate Agreement, an international commitment to lowering emissions.

For Copenhagen Fashion Week's organizers, these circumstances were a sign "business as usual" couldn't go on. "This should be a reminder to everyone that change is not optional. It’s essential," CEO Cecilie Thorsmark said during opening remarks. "And while change may not be enforced upon us, we need to make the change ourselves. In our personal lives and in our businesses, we need to act."

Designers heard her message loud, clear, and still without any obvious compromises. This season, action took the form of smaller, more considered collections that still remained true to what women really want. Caro Edition's playful checked coats and coordinating deadstock tweed footwear were standout examples; so were the tightly-edited looks at Aiayu. Creative director Maria Høgh Heilmann showed a limited range of chicly understated sweaters and mini skirts—and then showed them again, layered up with an extra coat or blazer.

Her show was a clever interpretation of how shoppers actually style a runway piece in real life. "It’s all about getting close to the natural materials, zooming in on the delicate details of it, allowing their purity to truly shine," Heilmann said in a statement.

Throughout the week, designers showed it was possible to remix 2025's biggest fashion trends and look relevant while following sustainability codes. Baum Und Pferdgarten's "Heartbeats" collection mixed English countryside outerwear and sporty-chic matching sets, with its signature injections of sequins and semi-sheer mesh. Skall Studio picked up the same modern horse girl agenda with delightful pink barn jackets and collarless coats. Stine Goya, hosting editors at an art exhibition curated by its namesake designer, blended painterly floral windbreakers and maxi dresses with three-piece skirt-over-pant suits. MKDT, the brand I overheard the most editors and buyers fawning over, elegantly layered rich-girl neutral knitwear and heavy-duty coats. Each of these women-led labels stayed true to the vision they've honed for seasons; their presence on Copenhagen's calendar says they did so with eco-friendly materials at the fore.

Consistent with past seasons, designers didn't trade sustainability for representation (or just plain good clothes). Size-inclusive models were present in every show I attended—and not merely as a single token casting. Ages and ethnicities were also more varied that I've ever seen in New York or Paris. Clearly, this calendar's players had found a way to make their aesthetic vision one that was representative and sustainably sourced as well. What's everyone else's excuse?

For all the Fall 2025 collections got right, there's still work to be done. Thorsmark noted in her remarks that Copenhagen's sustainability requirements are a "foundation not a finish line." The fashion industry is much bigger than one forward-thinking market, after all. There's promise in the British Fashion Council's recent announcement that London Fashion Week will adopt the same sustainability standards, but three more major fashion capitals, and off-season shows, have yet to join in. Then there are the hundreds of labels that don't participate in fashion month at all—and don't have sustainability measures in place, either.

Fashion industry insiders contemplating what the rest of the season will bring—and whether it will move in a more sustainable direction—got a pointed question from the Caro Editions' show's soundtrack. "Candidly," the singer asked over a thrumming base line as models strutted by in their deadstock boots, "don't we all hope for the best?" I say yes. And, it's about time other markets started designing like it.

A little over seven years ago, in February 2017, Ashley Graham was getting dressed in a furry cropped jacket and sweater dress to make history. She would be the first-ever curve model to walk Michael Kors's runway at New York Fashion Week.

“[I’m used to being] the only curved girl—I’m just excited that every designer and every magazine is going in the right direction," Graham told Vogue at the time. The Fall 2017 season seemed to her like a turning point in the long fight to make fashion more size-inclusive at every level. Beyond her debut Kors show, plus-size models were booking covers and catwalks. Brands were expanding their size ranges. "It’s not just one designer. It’s not just one model," Graham said. "It’s the wave of the future." It appeared that a one-size-fits-all mentality was finally starting to shift. Seven years later, the tides have turned.

Earlier this week, Vogue Business released its semi-annual size inclusivity study, which measures the body types represented in model castings across the Spring 2025 runways held in New York, London, Milan, and Paris. The trade publication found that only 0.8 percent of 8,763 looks shown at 208 shows and presentations were plus-size. (Plus size equating to a US size 14 and above.) The previous season's castings for plus-size models also landed at sub-one percent. Castings for mid-size models (that's sizes US 6–12) increased between the seasons—if you can really call it that—from a 3.7 percent to 4.3 percent "improvement." The other 94.9 percent were straight-size.

Sadly, these numbers weren't necessarily a shock to more than a dozen fashion editors, publicists, stylists, and buyers I spoke with after the study was released. Attendees had headed into the season wanting to see themselves, or at least a mix of bodies, in the best hot pants and naked dresses the runways had to offer. But they all retreated to their group chats, and eventually my DMs, with the same conclusion: the rise of get-thin-fast drugs (like Ozempic, initially intended to treat diabetes) and TikTok's thirst for "how to be skinny" content overshadowed the season.

"I definitely expected there to be less body diversity given the proliferation of GLP-1s," says The Love List writer Jessica Graves. "Only a few designers like Grace Ling and Christian Siriano stood out to me for making an actual commitment to body diverse models."

Shuffling from show to show at New York Fashion Week's Spring 2025 season, I noticed the backslide myself: model after model was a size US 0 or 2, with hips jutting out of a crochet dress or ribs I could count from my seat in the front row. By the end of the week, and moving on to London, Milan, and Paris, an appearance by a curve model like Jill Kortleve or Alva Claire felt like a shadow of Graham's 2017 musings: they were often the only one in the room.

"It would be easy to blame semaglutide drugs like Ozempic or Wegovy for all of the distressingly thin models on the runways last season (so many!), but I’d argue that [these drugs] have simply made it easier to indulge in our non-stop quest for thinness," Marie Claire beauty director Hannah Baxter tells me. They've created a culture where it's once again permissible to get thin at all costs—and fashion rewards it.

Seeing the same frail bodies over and over again affected Baxter's close industry friends and herself: "All I had to do was glance at the recent Paris shows to feel like I’m in 2003, 14 again, and concerned that my thighs are growing too big."

As designers cut down their size-inclusive castings, they're not only reshaping our understanding of who belongs on a runway. They're also narrowing the pool of women who they produce clothing for beyond fashion week.

Take the red carpet, for example. Ariel Tunnell, a VIP stylist, dresses clients whose sizes range from a 2 to a 24. She tells me she's noticed a decline in looks for mid- and plus-size women since the pandemic, as brands cut costs by making smaller samples. That means her clients don't have as many options to choose from. "This season, in particular, was very disappointing. There are just so few runway looks for mid-size and plus clients," she says. "Aside from [Christian] Siriano, very few designers cater to real women’s bodies. Unfortunately, it really limits options to ready-to-wear and custom."

I heard the same refrain from regional clothing buyers and personal stylists: They're seeing a narrower vision on the runway and fewer options to share with their clients and customers.

While some brands argue that size-inclusivity is too expensive for their business to sustain, that doesn't seem to be the case at Copenhagen Fashion Week, where even the most nascent brands on the official calendar consistently cast models of all body types. Of course, that market has a set of minimum standards requiring participating brands to be inclusive.

Regressing to a "thin is in" casting directive can also have harmful health consequences, notes Ruthie Friedlander, co-founder of The Chain, a nonprofit providing peer-to-peer support for women in fashion and entertainment who are struggling with or recovering from eating disorders. For perspective, eating disorders have been on the rise in the US since 2020, per data from NEDA (National Eating Disorders Association). When fashion imagery touts a single, largely unattainable body type as the gold standard, women on and off the runway feel they need to conform to the detriment of their well-being. "The fashion industry has a significant influence on these pressures, and the shift away from size representation is not just disappointing—it’s dangerous and life-threatening," Friedlander says.

"Seeing this season’s shows," she adds, "it’s heartbreaking to realize that body inclusivity now seems to have been treated as just another trend—one that’s fading just as quickly as it appeared."

Most of the publicists, editors, and general clotheshorses I spoke to for this story agreed they wanted to see more diverse bodies back on the runway (and, frankly, everywhere). Stepping outside my own bubble of forward-thinking fashion people, I've seen some insiders online defend skinny-girls-only casting by saying not every brand is meant to be for everyone. But really, who does or doesn't wear a brand should only come down to aesthetic taste—not dress or pants size.

The final day of New York Fashion Week's Spring 2025 season arrived the morning after MTV's 2024 Video Music Awards. During the ceremony, stars like Katy Perry, Chappell Roan, and Tyla wore sheer naked dresses and shredded two pieces with underwear poking through, some (like Perry's) still warm from walking a Spring 2025 runway days before. Covering the VMAs' most memorable looks for Marie Claire reinforced a truth every fashion editor knows: a lot of trends set by designers are designed first and foremost for celebrities. Or social media. Or celebrities who can't stay off social media.

It only took waking up the next morning and heading to work to see the counterpoint to my own argument in flesh, blood, and fabric. And thank goodness: I was running out of things I wanted to wear. The best looks of New York Fashion Week's Spring 2025 collections, championed by women-led brands, of course, aren't designing for shock value—and they're not settling for staid "wearability," either.

Actually, there are some designers who've internalized the more over-the-top trends percolating for the past few seasons—like exaggerated fringe or sheer skirts—and found a way to make them work for Hollywood civilians. At the same time, they've pushed the business-woman special outfits on the other end of the spectrum in a more adventurous direction. In the middle: Heaps of clothes that are definitely wearable, but also interesting.

My last morning of shows began at Kallmeyer, where designer Daniella Kallmeyer injected suggestions of big trends—a sheer skirt here, an open-back, draped plaid top with trousers there—into her signature smart tailoring. A shirt with a built-in coordinating tie returned in a gorgeous shade of deep marigold yellow. Classic black suits were remixed with A-line skirts for a bottom instead of pants. Drapey dresses flowed like a river while somehow not skewing too formal. From the second row, I saw a lineup I would buy in its entirety if I didn't have student loan payments.

"We got to stretch ourselves out of our comfort zone as far as colors and textures and even certain shapes, while always revisiting and returning back to the Kallmeyer DNA," Kallmeyer tells me in a voice memo a few days after the show, her first runway format in many seasons. And while the room was full, a splashy debut wasn't necessarily the point. "At the end of the day, what matters the most to us is a making sure that after these clothes leave the runway and end up in your wardrobe," she says. "That they feel like easy, loyal, trendless pieces that you can tie back into your existing style DNA and sort of future wearability."

Kallmeyer's collection ended the week on a high note, and it wasn't the only one that designed pieces I'm actively looking forward to shopping come April. Reviewing my camera roll filled with standouts from Tibi and Maria McManus, "future wearability" was the operative phrase. Designers Amy Smilovic and the titular Maria also understand how to ever-so-slightly modify peek-a-boo fabrics, or even naked shoes, for women who will probably never step foot on a red carpet. It's a matter of balancing fabrics that reveal with more concealing shapes and colors—then styling them with an oversize blazer or a drop-waist top.

The moment Marie Claire fashion director Sara Holzman and I walked into the cavernous, candlelit loft where Diotima's Spring 2025 presentation was held, we knew designer Rachel Scott was on the same page. Show notes said the collection was born of a "Carribbean dream," and there's always been a beachy sensibility to Scott's crochets and seashell-like paliette embellishments. Yet when Scott styles a crochet, fringe-lined skirt with a black eyelet floral button-down, or a so-draped-it-could-be-wet column dress over cork wedge clogs, I see a version of summertime dressing that doesn't have to be reserved for a resort. "This is actually something I'd wear," Holzman said, snapping a few pictures on her phone.

Of course, we aren't just wearing clothes. According to Rachel Comey's Spring 2025 show notes, we also "work, tour, talk, meet, vouch, argue, celebrate, debate, win, lose, listen, flow, arrive, make, stretch, change, find, hustle, carry" in our outfits. I didn't doubt that I could do all those things in her draped blazers and lightly flared skirts if I wanted to. I also felt, seeing one of her trousers paired with a thigh-length fringe top or a business-y skirt matched to a blazer without a shirt underneath—and on models of all ages—that I could do those things without having to resort to a business casual startup brand. There was fun and refinement up for the task of the "book tour, industry event, or conference room" also mentioned in Comey's show notes, or maybe even an A-lister's schedule. Jemima Kirke, across the room from me, couldn't stop taking pictures during the show—like she was filling her camera roll with her own closet references.

New York Fashion Week's Spring 2025 season is book-ended by another awards show, the Emmys on Sunday, Sept. 15. There will be trends set and reinforced on that red carpet, as is the case with every other. But if it's "future wearability" you're after, sit tight until next spring. This crop of designers made pieces worth waiting for.

There wasn’t necessarily a shortage of designers pumping out square-toe black kitten heels in 2019. But according to requests flooding luxury sourcer-cum-trend-expert Gab Waller’s inbox that year, the only label making them was Swedish brand Toteme.

Clients couldn’t stop asking for Toteme’s heels, and eventually, its collarless wool coats with attached matching scarves and its slouchy leather clutches with a T-shaped lock. They were in just as much high demand as Chanel, Prada, and Saint Laurent. As Waller shopped Toteme for her clients, she fell in love with it herself. Its pieces embodied a holy trinity of fashion adjectives for Waller: “elegant, sophisticated, and polished,” she says, in its clean-cut trousers and anonymously nice leather bags and endless variations on cozily beige sweaters. Everything looks nice, but there’s still a sense that it can be worn in real life. Now, “There is one cutout ribbed knit top from Toteme that I'm truly not exaggerating when I say it is in my top 10 worn pieces in my wardrobe,” she tells me.

Waller is just one of many in-the-know women who’ve propelled Toteme’s clothing and accessories from just another Scandi-chic label frequently seen on Copenhagen Fashion Week guests to an international juggernaut. In the ten years since co-founders and real-life partners Elin Kling and Karl Lindman started the brand, it’s moved into luxury retailers like SSENSE and Net-a-Porter, opened four stores in the U.S., had several products go viral on TikTok (and subsequently get duped), and landed in the closets of perennial It girls Hailey Bieber, Laura Harrier, and Sofia Richie Grainge. Toteme products are a regular presence in insider-beloved shopping Substack newsletters like Laura Reilly's Magasin and Jessica Graves's The Love List. When TikTokers do their round-ups of what "hot girls" are wearing, Toteme is almost always included.

The New York Times reports that Toteme’s take on plush sweaters and no-nonsense trousers generated $150 million in revenue last year. All that momentum landed Toteme on New York Fashion Week’s Spring 2025 calendar, where it hosted a runway atop a skyscraper with one of the schedule’s most exclusive guest lists.

Toteme’s clothing for the Spring 2025 runway stuck to the beats that its growing following knows. White three-quarter sleeve tops with black culotte pants. Clingy knit dresses paired to a collarless satin or leather coat. A few splashes of butter yellow in the same unfussy silhouettes. Looking from the outside, you might wonder what makes fashion editors post drooling-face emojis for these beige turtlenecks and not the ones shown by another Swedish brand the day before—COS.

It starts with a point-of-view. Toteme, like the similarly pared-back Anine Bing, is founded by a former influencer who’s fluent in aesthetics. Elin Kling got her start as a fashion blogger and an early adopter of Instagram; her understanding of what can pop online shows in her mastery of clothing that’s inherently practical while leveling up from a standard “basic.” Admit it: There’s something very photogenic about a billowing cape coat with a detachable matching scarf or a kitten heel sharp enough to stab.

The brand was shy about taking my interview ahead of the show, but its champions were happy to weigh in. Toteme's POV—minimalism that punches a few steps above a basic T-shirt and trousers—caught the eye of Brigitte Chartrand, Vice President of Womenswear Buying and Everything Else at SSENSE. “We started carrying Toteme in Spring 2016, which came at a time when we were revamping our womenswear strategy and further defining the merchandising perspective that we’re known for today,” she tells me. “Part of this meant focusing on interesting brands with both a minimalistic approach to wardrobing and an interesting design aesthetic, which is very Toteme.”

Toteme clothing isn’t cheap. Most items start at three-figures; its most social-media-friendly coats and bags can reach up to $1,230. Still, it’s not as unreachable as French luxury houses, and its designs can weather more than a few trend cycles. “I'm a big believer in cost per wear, and buying pieces that can be heavily rotated,” Waller says. “Toteme's designs are exactly that. I have absolute confidence that if I'm purchasing a Toteme piece, I will be wearing it a multitude of different ways for many years to come.” Her beloved black shirt, for example, can be paired back with jeans or layered under a blazer.

Toteme clothing isn’t just growing through its own boutiques and retailers. It’s also heating up on the re-sale market—which can often be a sign of surging popularity. Rachel Glicksberg, Fashion and New Initiatives Lead at The RealReal, tells me there’s been a 55 percent YoY increase in Toteme supply on the site, and overall demand for the label is up 66 percent for the same period.

The same T-lock bag Waller’s clients request is one of The RealReal’s top secondhand sellers, too. Demand for all the labels’ bags rose by 851 percent in the past year. Glicksberg says it’s the logo-less, neutral design (formerly known as quiet luxury) that makes Toteme’s bags a standout. “Although fashion insiders can spot the style like a hawk, its under-the-radar style makes it a true classic,” she says.

There were more of those “if you know, you know” bags in Toteme’s Spring 2025 collection: a curved version of the famed T-lock bag in leather, satin, suede and crochet variations, with a detachable wristlet strap. Shoes, meanwhile, included peep-toe leather mules and crossover strap slides. Like those kitten heels from 2019, they’re inherently wearable with a little extra shine. The entire looks, even the most understated, could be copy and pasted directly into Hailey Bieber’s Sushi Park wardrobe. By the time they arrive in stores next May, Waller’s inbox is bound to flood with requests once again.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a mom carting your kids to the playground, a young professional investing in your first grown-up work outfit, or an Emily Ratajowski-level It girl. When you discover Los Angeles-based designer Jamie Haller’s shoes—loafers, sandals, and flats in buttery leather, handmade in Italy—they become the only ones you want to wear. See Meg Strachan, the Dorsey fine jewelry founder, who tells me she ordered three pairs of Jamie Haller loafers the day the ones she wanted came back in stock. Or Ratajkowski herself, who wears Haller’s Penny loafers constantly on walks around Manhattan.

From Substack tastemakers—like Cereal Aisle author Leandra Medine or WhoWhatWear founder Hillary Kerr—to offline but in-the-know shoppers, ordering a pair of Jamie Haller’s shoes any time since its 2020 launch has been a ticket into a not-so-secret fashion society. Its membership is 16,000 strong on Instagram—and once you’re inducted, you end up buying at least two pairs. Sales grew by ten times from 2022 to 2023 and then quadrupled from last year to the present, all on the strength of word-of-mouth recommendations and a few small-scale boutique partnerships.

Walking me through an upcoming collection in a New York City showroom, Haller tells me she’s met women who’ve snagged up to twelve pairs for themselves. She herself hasn’t worn anyone else’s shoes in four years. “I get it,” she laughs. “I’m obsessed with my shoes, too.”

Now, Haller is preparing for her brand community to develop a new obsession—with her clothes. The designer is today unveiling her first line of ready-to-wear to pair with her easygoing, trend-proof shoes.

Before striking out on her own with a footwear brand at the height of the Covid pandemic, Haller had spent over twenty years designing clothing, including in an award-winning role at NSF, an LA-based label. Her expertise was obvious to me on a walk-through last May, where, according to my recorder, Haller spent a solid four minutes explaining the precise seam used on a pant for it to fall just right.

Denim, a Haller specialty, is the cornerstone of the new collection. Unpretentious utility pants, a “chameleon” T-shirt, and the "everything pant," seasonless paper bag waist trousers, round out the initial drop. Prices begin at $198 for a T-shirt and cap at $540 for wide-leg jeans. They're crafted so meticulously that the cost-per-wear goes down fast—because, ideally, these are the clothes you'll wear nearly every day.

Haller’s initial designs have won over such a devoted following in part because of their inherent ease. The materials are soft to the touch and made in small batches; the silhouettes are both polished and unassuming, specific and versatile. Both the shoes and the clothing reflect Haller’s intentional way of dressing—quietly but with purpose. “I think you can relate to me on a personal level and be like, oh, I like her style, which is almost like a non-style, but it's very laid-back, casual, understated,” Haller tells me. I can indeed relate to what she’s wearing for our conversation: a black top, olive green pants, and a loafer from her own line, with silver statement earrings. “Maybe there’s a thread of cool in the way I like to put things together, but it’s very basic and lifestyle-oriented.”

Haller’s clothes aren’t all that’s approachable about her. She’s invited her followers into the making of each piece, sharing on Instagram candid updates about the realities of starting her business from scratch: delayed orders, difficulty keeping up with increases in demand after a celebrity sighting, heartfelt thank-yous when pieces really hit.

Before scaling up to a true warehouse, she rented the house next door as a shipping facility-cum-design studio and fulfilled orders from both that garage and her own. In an email, Meg Strachan of Dorsey recalled picking up her first shoes directly from Haller’s home in Silver Lake. “When I got to Jamie's house, she packed my order for me in her garage. Her daughter handed me my bag. It reminded me of the very early days of Dorsey.”

Unafraid to show every aspect of her work goes back to the start of the business and the first community that supported her ambitions. Haller designed her initial shoes in lockdown, using her neighborhood COVID pod as the sounding board for each piece. “There's a beauty in that because there was no outside opinion," she says. It was just me getting to do me and worrying about myself and not having to worry about anything else. I was just making something.”

Four years later, sticking to her internal design compass pointed her toward a debut lineup of ready-to-wear with near-universal appeal. “Being a good designer to me really just means having confidence in my vision where I'm not afraid to make a decision," she says. An early test capsule of Jamie Haller's denim, sweatshirts, and utility pants didn't simply sell—it resonated. “We sold out of almost everything in a day—it blew my mind,” Haller says. “And nobody made returns.”

Fans who haven’t yet tried the clothing are ready to load up their carts. “I'm so excited to see her ready-to-wear,” Strachan tells me in an email. “Fashion often feels disconnected from the lives we actually live each day. Women are looking for wearable pieces. That's what Jamie creates.”

No matter how big Haller’s brand gets, she tells me she still plans to design everything herself. “I think what I'm proud to do is to be really honest about being in this brand and having this showing myself—not just being a logo on a background, but being a person who's like, ‘This is hard or these are my kids,’” she explains. “This is real life, and this brand is me.”

But there’s a hands-off perk to seeing her label expand and her community along with it. She won’t have to pack the clothing orders herself. It’s finally outgrown her garage.

Jamie Haller clothing is available to shop exclusively at JamieHaller.com.

Shop Jamie Haller's First Clothing Collection

Sitting perched on a bay window bench in her New York City store, milliner Gigi Burris is wearing one of her own creations, a black felted flat-brim hat called the Kyleigh. It's noon on a bright April afternoon, and her Chinatown boutique hasn't opened yet for shoppers. "Should we do a tour?" she asks me, half out of her seat and eager to show off the store she opened earlier this fall.

I'm there with the milliner of the moment to get a behind-the-curtain look at her couture style of hatmaking. We start in the studio tucked in the back, where Burris and her team make all headwear by hand. She walks past straw summer hats and 1920s-inspired cloches to pick up a Swarovski crystal-studded veil fascinator lying on a workbench. “This is a custom piece for a client going to the Kentucky Derby, and this [a woven fedora embellished with silk ivory flowers] is for a client going to the Central Park Conservancy luncheon this fall," she says.

Since the very start of her career, Burris has been a hat maker in high demand: Two weeks after graduating from her hat-making program at Parsons School of Design in 2009, Rihanna borrowed pieces from Burris's senior collection for a cover shoot with W Magazine.

But she anticipates an unprecedented boom for her brand in the coming months. The sudden resurgence of hats on the Fall 2024 runways—from feathered newsboy caps at Prada to ladylike pillbox styles at Altuzarra—has ushered fashion into the era of the personality hat.

The shift excites Burris. “It obviously bodes well for business,” she says. Future upticks in sales aside, Burris hopes the fall 2024 hat trend heralds a widespread movement of more expressive dressing. She references her network of industry tastemakers who use her statement pieces to punctuate their personal style. Street style swan Jalil Johnson, for one, waxed poetic about Burris in a March edition of his fashion newsletter, Consider Yourself Cultured: Johnson noted that the Laura pillbox hat's assertive powers took a baggy, suited outfit "from a lady who lunches to a lady who owns 51 percent of the company." The latter is exactly the kind of self-assured person Burris designs hats for.

But all are welcome within the Gigi Burris universe. She points to a mood board tacked up in her workspace and describes her aesthetic as an eclectic amalgamation—from religious undertones to rock-and-roll. There are photos of angels, Spanish moss, and swans next to printouts of Willie Nelson and Mick Jagger. Another corkboard for her Fall 2024 collection features photos of '40s-era furniture, textural close-ups of velvet fabrics, and cowboy hats. "We were feeling Western when putting this together, which was well before the Beyoncé situation," she notes.

Keen on hats and headwear as a kid, Burris was always slightly ahead of her time. "Growing up in central Florida, I dressed a little kookier [than other people] and wore a lot of vintage hats," the designer recalls. In a Paris study abroad program with the Parsons School of Design, Burris became enamored with the city's appreciation for craftsmanship, prompting her to immediately enroll in a millinery course when returning to the States. From that point forward, she was hooked on hatmaking.

Mentoring under the acclaimed headwear artist Leah Chalfen, Burris honed her skill of couture hatmaking and later graduated in '09 with the prestigious Parson's Designer of the Year award (past recipients include Marc Jacobs and Proenza Schouler). She soon made a name for herself as the hatmaker to the stars, with not just Rihanna, but Lady Gaga finding an affinity for Burris's hats and Madonna wearing her flat-brim designs when performing "Living for Love" on stage. Burris realized it was time to level up as more commissions came in. She officially launched her hat business in 2012—the eponymous Gigi Burris Millinery.

Today, the brand is a best-seller amongst only a handful of other hat designers at retailers like Neiman Marcus and Nordstrom. Her roster of celebrity clients even more robust, ranging from Hailey Bieber to Dr. Jill Biden. Recently, Sarah Jessica Parker wore Burris's straw Eftagine Beret on the second season of And Just Like That... A "very, very special Carrie Bradshaw moment" for Burris.

Admittedly, Burris's trajectory is atypical. “I didn't set out to have my own brand—it sort of happened organically,” she admits. But throughout the whirlwind of early-on industry acclaim and celebrity co-signs, she's been able to stay the course. “The magic for me is the materiality [of hatmaking]. I love working with my hands and with artisans who use traditional but innovative artisanal techniques to produce quality designs made to last.”

Every Gigi Burris piece is crafted using the hand-blocking technique, a centuries-old process of sculpting and shaping the hat’s material over a wooden form or bock. Midway through the tour, Burris walks over to a shelf lined with them. She's worked with the same local NYC hat block manufacturer since her Parsons days.

Burris now pulls out a straw hat made using a proprietary technique of weaving ribbon and raffia together to make it packable. “A super advanced sewer named Chandra makes [these] for us. If we didn't have her, we wouldn't be making this piece because it's so complicated,” she notes. Then, she points to a bouquet of intricate satin rosettes on a headband made by a fourth-generation silk flower atelier, one of the last in the U.S., and references sparsely available vintage ostrich feathers from another local mom-and-pop shop.

She recognizes that, while not quite extinct, the art of millinery is certainly at risk. “These artisans retire, or their factories close, and all that know-how and knowledge disappears," she explains. In June 2022, the hatmaker launched the non-profit foundation Closely Crafted to help preserve those skills and foster future generations of milliners and skilled craftspeople. “There is a need for young artists and talent to be inspired, excited, and willing to work in this industry, so we can keep it thriving and sustaining for decades to come.”

And just as you need people to make the hats, you need people to wear them, too. Burris is optimistic, though, that the incoming fall headwear phenomenon will inspire a far-reaching renaissance. “Part of the barrier to entry is that people don't have the confidence to wear hats. But when you see someone wearing a hat whose style you admire or one on the runway, it's much easier to visualize it in your wardrobe,” she says.

Jess Graves, author of the fashion newsletter The Love List and founder of the creative agency Graves Studio, tells me that the catwalk recently converted her into a hat-wearer. When visiting Burris's shop earlier this winter, she "immediately zoned in on the Sharina hat," a pinched-crown cap that looks similar to hats on The Row's runways, influencing the fashion writer to invest.

For the hat-curious—those intrigued but perhaps too intimated to earnestly wear a classic Cowboy or floppy bucket off the beach—Burris has a straightforward bit of advice: "Just wear it." Even just once, she says, is enough to start building up the confidence to commit to the accessory. "It's just getting over that first hump."

The designer also encourages wearing hats for the everyday, menial moments. "People always ask, 'Where do you wear those veiled fascinators?' I think it's really more of, well, where do you not wear them? With the right mindset, [a veil] is just as appropriate for a 7:00 p.m. date at Temple Bar as for a gala," she says. The hatmaker recently wore a black mesh headpiece for an early, casual dinner in Paris. "We were just eating fries and having a glass of white wine."

As we wrap up the conversation—at the same bench by the front window—in a perfect moment of synchronicity, a woman walks by Burris's storefront wearing an ivory Panama hat. She looks fabulous.

After 24 years in business, designer Mara Hoffman announced in an Instagram post and coinciding Vogue interview on Sunday, May 19, that her Spring 2024 collection would be her final one. Hoffman had strived to operate sustainably, but the costs of balancing slow, mindful production with scaling an independently owned brand were too incompatible. "[T]he reality is that the demands that are on a small company financially make it almost impossible to be privately held and run after a certain point," she told Vogue.

Within minutes of reading the news, I texted a close friend the link to Hoffman's post and two words: "I'm devastated."

While Hoffman started her colorful resort wear brand in 1999, shortly after she graduated from Parsons, I learned about Hoffman's work in the late 2010s. By the time I saved up to order my first few sustainably sourced linen skirts and viral "popcorn" material dresses, Hoffman had completely reset her business. She pivoted in 2014 to completely rebuild her supply chain, ensuring pieces were Fair Trade certified and eliminating polyester from her designs. In 2018, Hoffman introduced one of the industry's most inclusive size ranges. A majority of each collection was available up to size 3XL.

Mara Hoffman won me over because she did two things at once that other corners of the fashion industry would call impossible. She championed sustainability and mindful consumption, but not at the expense of inclusion. The varied range of women who wore her designs—from everyday corporate workers and fashion editors I'd interviewed for styling stories, to celebrities like Beyoncé, Chrissy Teigen, and Issa Rae—prove it.

In comments to Marie Claire, journalists, designers, small business owners, and climate activists all said they would miss Hoffman's work for the same reasons.

"I cherish every single Mara Hoffman piece in my closet and have such fabulous memories in each of them," writer Aminatou Sow says. She describes Hoffman's designs as celebratory yet thoughtful, incorporating discerning texture and volume. "It’s been a pleasure to get a solid education on textile, fashion, and sustainability through buying her clothes."

On the sustainability front, Hoffman pushed boundaries with new-to-market materials that performed (and photographed) as luxuriously as synthetics used by other brands. Take a swimwear fabric update she released last year, which substituted nylon and polyester—common in swim— for a water-resistant material made from wood pulp.

Activist, author, and model Cameron Russell calls Hoffman's work "a beacon"; Studio189 designer and co-founder Abrima Erwiah considers Hoffman a "pioneer."

"The loss of the brand is being felt by the whole industry," says Maxine Bédat, founder of the New Standard Institute. "This fact also starkly highlights the very real business challenges that companies trying to do the right thing face. Without common-sense rules in place, it is simply impossible to compete in the marketplace and do the right thing."

Sophia Li, a climate activist and journalist, credits Hoffman with defining "sustainable fashion" before it became a conversation topic in the wider industry zeitgeist. “She not only has been a visionary paving her own path in the space, but she also brought a whole wave of creatives who never felt accepted by 'fashion,'" Li says.

There's a sad irony to Hoffman's brand closure arriving now. Six months ago, she was honored with the CFDA's Fashion Award for Environmental Sustainability. Her pieces are worn in fashion capitals like New York City and by some of the brightest stars in Hollywood. In the comments on her Instagram farewell, hundreds of women from around the world poured out their hearts about how her garments made them feel: "beautiful," "worthy," and "my absolute best."

Hoffman calls the last 24 years of business a "gorgeous run" despite the hardships. By stepping back now, she's still setting an example. Erin Allweiss, co-founder of the communications firm The No.29, says Hoffman is speaking a truth insiders know but don't acknowledge: "[T]he fashion system as we know it isn't working for people or the planet. Only a real artist and truly integrated human being can make the decision to stop."

In 2023, I interviewed Hoffman about one of her sustainable textile innovations: a fully recyclable dress created in partnership with the materials company Circ. In hindsight, her reasoning for the dress's limited production run (only 35 were made) seems like a breadcrumb for her eventual decision to stop production on her label entirely. "I think we’re so used to seeing so much," she told me. "The scale at which we’re all experiencing material life—I don’t think we even realize how big it’s become."

Every style expert who shared their thoughts on Hoffman's legacy hoped this brand wouldn't be the last they'd see of her. The designer said her work is "far from done." If Hoffman's individual brand can't remain in business, let's hope the ideas underlying it remain in the conversation. Losing sight of sustainability that can include everyone would be even more devastating.

Shop Mara Hoffman's Final Pieces