Couture has always traded in the language of rarity.

The clothes are handmade, the client base is microscopic and the spectacle remains deliberately removed from the realities of mass fashion. But once the first look reaches the runway, couture becomes anything but private. Within seconds, it is filmed, posted, dissected, memed, saved and distributed to millions of people who may never enter an atelier, but still shape the cultural power surrounding it and build up those numbers.

For FW26 Haute Couture Week, that attention translated into $239.7 million in Media Impact Value, according to a new report by Launchmetrics. Across the measured period, the week produced 37,200 placements, with an average MIV of approximately $6,400 per placement.

Media Impact Value, or MIV, is Launchmetrics’ proprietary metric for assigning a monetary value to posts, articles and interactions. It considers quantitative information, including reach, engagement, advertising rates and posting frequency, alongside qualitative factors such as relevance, content quality and the authority of the source.

The result is not a measurement of sales. It is a measurement of attention, and, more importantly, whose attention carries value.

This season’s figures reveal an industry in which historic houses still dominate (as well as some of the new ones that really stood out), but geography, format and influence are all being redrawn.

Instagram remains fashion’s most powerful room

Fashion has spent years speculating about the platform that might replace Instagram. During couture week, at least, none came particularly close.

Instagram generated $128.8 million in MIV, surpassing online editorial coverage by 233%. It was also the most efficient channel measured, producing an average of $12,300 in MIV per placement.

YouTube followed with an average of $11,700 per placement, while TikTok averaged $8,500.

The figures reinforce what fashion already understands intuitively: Instagram remains uniquely suited to the way the industry wants to communicate. It can accommodate the runway video, the celebrity arrival, the critic’s review, the backstage detail and the glossy carousel without forcing any one format to become the entire story.

It is not necessarily the newest or fastest-moving platform. It is simply the one on which every layer of the fashion system still meets.

Video ruled the week, but the carousel is far from dead

Across social media, video content generated $110.7 million in MIV, representing 47% of the event’s total social impact.

That makes video the season’s dominant format. Yet the report contains an important qualification: on Instagram, carousel posts generated almost 62% of the Celebrity Voice’s total MIV.

In other words, video may be the most reliable tool for scale, but carefully selected imagery continues to perform when the person wearing the clothes is part of the story.

That distinction matters. The endless pressure to turn every fashion moment into a Reel can flatten the very thing audiences came to see. Couture depends on detail: embroidery, construction, proportion, beauty and the full effect of a look from several angles. A carousel allows that information to remain visible rather than disappearing within seconds.

The ideal couture strategy is therefore not “video first” at the expense of everything else. It is format-diverse: movement for reach, imagery for scrutiny and a strong editorial point of view connecting the two.

Facebook delivered the week’s biggest plot twist

One of the report’s more surprising findings did not come from TikTok, Instagram or a new social platform. It came from Facebook.

Facebook generated $42 million in MIV, slightly more than the $39.9 million attributed to online editorial coverage.

It is a useful reminder that fashion’s public conversation is much broader than the highly visible bubble surrounding its most culturally fashionable platforms. Facebook’s audience is enormous, international and highly active around celebrity and entertainment coverage, the exact ecosystem through which couture increasingly travels.

The platform may not define fashion’s perception of cool, but it continues to distribute the people, images and stories that create value at scale.

Fashion frequently mistakes visibility within the industry for visibility everywhere. The data suggests that the two are not always the same.

Paris hosted couture. America generated its greatest impact.

France may be couture’s legal, historic and emotional home, but it was not the week’s highest-performing market.

The United States generated $50.4 million in MIV, nearly 17% more than France’s $43.2 million. India followed with $18.3 million, ahead of Italy at $18.1 million and Brazil at $13.7 million.

American influencers alone generated $6.2 million, the highest influencer contribution of any country. The result reflects the international nature of the contemporary fashion-week audience, but it also underlines the importance of selecting guests and content partners according to the markets a brand actually wants to reach.

Couture is no longer amplified through a simple Paris-to-the-world pipeline. Its influence now moves through a network of regional celebrity cultures, media ecosystems and fashion communities, each capable of becoming central to the global conversation.

India’s performance is particularly significant. The country ranked second for celebrity-generated impact, producing $2.9 million in MIV. This was supported by the visibility surrounding Indian designers entering the couture calendar and the celebrities attending their shows.

Rather than treating international representation as a symbolic gesture, brands now have evidence that cultural specificity can produce measurable global relevance.

Heart Evangelista became a couture-week economy of her own

No statistic demonstrates the force of individual influence more clearly than Heart Evangelista’s.

The actress and fashion figure generated $7.5 million in MIV, making her the highest-performing celebrity and the second-highest Voice across the entire week. Only Vogue France, with $7.7 million, ranked above her.

Even more strikingly, Evangelista’s content represented more than 96% of the Philippines’ total couture-week MIV, which reached $7.8 million.

One individual effectively created the country’s presence in the data.

The finding illustrates why front-row casting is now a strategic decision rather than a purely decorative one. The most valuable guest is not always the person with the largest global profile. It is the person whose audience, authority, consistency and relationship with fashion make every appearance travel.

Jennifer Lopez, Esha Gupta, Monica Bellucci and Kimberley Anne also ranked among the week’s leading celebrity Voices, but Evangelista’s result sits in a category of its own.

She did not simply attend couture week. She became one of its largest media channels.

The establishment still won

Despite all the conversation surrounding new names, new appointments and a changing calendar, couture’s most historic institutions remained firmly in control of the overall rankings.

Dior generated $44.3 million in MIV, making it the week’s leading brand. Chanel followed with $37.3 million, while Schiaparelli generated $35.2 million.

Balenciaga ranked fourth at $21.3 million, followed by Rahul Mishra at $12.3 million, Jean Paul Gaultier at $9.4 million and Robert Wun at $9 million.

The dominance of Dior, Chanel and Schiaparelli is unsurprising. Each possesses a combination of global recognition, major celebrity relationships, extensive media attention and the resources needed to distribute a show far beyond the room in which it occurs.

Dior also led the Owned Media ranking, generating $6.3 million through its own channels. Chanel followed with $2.8 million and Schiaparelli with $2.4 million.

That gap matters. It indicates that a house’s ability to control, package and circulate its own story has become almost as important as the show itself.

But new couture made a measurable entrance

The calendar’s biggest houses may have claimed the largest totals, but several of the week’s most revealing results came from its newer participants.

Manish Malhotra generated $8.2 million in MIV upon joining the official Fédération de la Haute Couture et de la Mode calendar for the first time.

Standing Ground, the five-person, made-to-order label founded by Irish designer Michael Stewart, generated approximately $1.35 million and entered the overall top 20.

The scale of the two debuts differed considerably, but both demonstrated that couture’s audience is receptive to expansion. New participation did not diminish the exclusivity of the week; it created new reasons to pay attention to it.

Standing Ground’s performance is especially interesting because it was not driven by a traditional celebrity spectacle. Anna Wintour was among only 150 guests, while the label’s nine highest-performing Voices were all media outlets, together producing $512,000 in MIV.

Vogue US, Vogue Italia, British Vogue and Vogue Runway led its coverage.

In an era in which front rows can feel engineered primarily for social distribution, Standing Ground presented another route to relevance: put the work in front of the people whose authority still shapes how a designer is understood.

Its $1.3 million total may appear small beside Dior’s $44.3 million, but for an independent, five-person operation making its Paris couture debut, reaching the top 20 is far more meaningful than the raw ranking suggests.

Pierpaolo Piccioli opened a new chapter at Balenciaga

One of couture week’s most anticipated moments was Pierpaolo Piccioli’s debut on Balenciaga’s couture calendar.

The show generated $21.3 million in MIV from approximately 3,800 placements, placing Balenciaga fourth overall. Media accounted for 88% of its total impact, demonstrating the scale of editorial interest surrounding Piccioli’s interpretation of the house.

The front row added significant reach. Hudson Williams generated $3.3 million in MIV, Cynthia Erivo contributed $1.6 million and Teyana Taylor produced $1.5 million across Owned and third-party mentions.

Yet the overwhelming media share shows that the appointment itself, and the creative question surrounding it, remained the central story.

Balenciaga did not merely cast famous guests and wait for their posts to carry the collection. The industry was actively watching to understand how Piccioli would negotiate Cristóbal Balenciaga’s architectural legacy through his own language of colour, volume and romanticism.

Attention was directed toward the clothes because the clothes represented a genuine shift.

Couture is evolving without becoming ordinary

The overall picture emerging from the report is not that celebrity has replaced media, nor that social media has made traditional fashion authority irrelevant.

Media still generated 69% of the week’s total MIV. Influencers accounted for 13%, celebrities for 8%, Owned Media for 7% and partners for 3%.

Editorial institutions therefore remain couture’s most powerful Voice. But they now operate within a broader system in which an individual such as Heart Evangelista can nearly equal Vogue France, an American audience can create more value than the host country and a five-person label can enter the same measurable conversation as century-old houses.

Couture’s power has always depended on contradiction. It is commercially microscopic but culturally enormous. It serves a tiny number of clients while producing images intended to travel everywhere. It worships heritage while surviving through reinvention.

FW26 did not resolve those contradictions. It made them more visible.

Pierpaolo Piccioli made his Balenciaga couture debut. Duran Lantink entered the discipline at Jean Paul Gaultier, generating $9.4 million in MIV. Manish Malhotra and Standing Ground joined the official calendar. Established houses continued to dominate, but they no longer held a monopoly over the week’s most interesting stories.

The new couture landscape is still exclusive. It is simply becoming less predictable.

And according to the numbers, unpredictability may be one of its most valuable assets.

Men’s Fashion Week spring-summer 2027 felt like a season caught between two moods: clothes made for a hotter, stranger world, and clothes made for men who suddenly want to dress with feeling again. It definitely felt like we’re leaving “quiet luxury” behind, and leaving space for more personality. Less perfect uniform, more instinct.

Across Paris, Milan and Berlin, the strongest collections weren’t trying to re-invent the wheel, but they were reworking the pieces he already knows: tailoring, sportswear, workwear, shorts, shirts, sneakers, bags (just maybe cheekier). The difference really was in the attitude.

At Sacai, Chitose Abe did what Sacai does best: taking familiar wardrobe codes and slicing them into something sharper, stranger and more layered. The spring-summer 27 collection played with preppy references, hybrid outerwear and clothes that felt both practical and emotionally charged. It was menswear built from recognisable pieces, but never in the way you expect (but also kind of, it’s Sacai ofc!).

Then there was the showrooms which really proved that fashion week is no longer only about the runway (or at least not always. Nike’s NRG showroom became one of the season’s most talked-about stops, with a giant Swoosh installation and plenty of sneaker-world attention (for a verrrrrrry good reason), from square-toe Air Force 1s to experimental footwear previews. Performancewear (or fashion that pretends to be performancewear) has never been this involved in the game.

In Berlin, GmbH remained one of the most important reminders that menswear can still carry politics, emotion and urgency. The brand has long used clothing to speak about identity, survival and resistance, and its presence within Berlin Fashion Week continues to give the city a sharper, more socially aware edge. All that with a gorgeous cast of models, including Arca!

Paris, meanwhile, delivered the big headline moments. Louis Vuitton leaned into Pharrell’s world-building again, this time with a surf-inflected, sun-drenched vision of menswear (THAT VENUE?!?!).

Jonathan Anderson really made a point at Dior Men genuinely being one of the best we’ve seen this season.

Celine introduced Michael Rider’s take on the house: eclectic (with a big accent on eclectic), slightly undone, full of contrast.

Givenchy, under Sarah Burton, offered a more intimate and architectural idea of menswear, however with a lot of that Sarah Burtonesque aesthetique we’ve seen for SO much of years during her many years at McQueen: the embroidery, the florals, the tailoring-with-a-twist and so on.

The biggest trend? Men’s fashion looked less afraid of contradiction. Shorts got shorter. Trousers got slimmer. Tailoring got sharper, but also lighter. Shirts were sheer, cropped, wrapped, layered or barely there. Footwear got weirder (YAY), leading with Saint Laurent’s transparent PVC shoes (which we HAVE to call the shoes of the season)

&P.S.: you have to see this pic RickDick posted

There was also a real return of the body. Not in a gym-bro way, but in a “why are men suddenly dressing like they know they have legs, waists and shoulders?” way. Slim fits, tiny tops, low waists, short shorts and sheer layers all pointed towards a more sensual menswear mood. After years of oversized everything, the silhouette is tightening again.

But the season wasn’t only about sexier clothes. It was also about climate. Paris, as well as Milan were extremely hot during the shows, and that heat seemed to push designers towards lighter fabrics, abbreviated silhouettes and clothes that made sense for summers that no longer feel theoretical. Vogue noted the way designers responded with practical, heat-conscious ideas, from airy constructions to shorter shapes.

The showroom scene was big this season too. Some of the most exciting fashion week moments were away from the runway, where smaller brands and accessories labels were experimenting with texture, colour, construction and object-like design. From Acne Studios to Wales Bonner to Converse to Givenchy to Dover Street Market and so many more.

There’s just always something so much more personal about a showroom. To touch the clothes, to see the details up close, to try that bag on, to smell those leather shoes. Not to diminish runways at all, there’s nothing like seeing the whole concept completed by the models, the walk, the makeup, the hair, the music, THE MOVEMENT. But basically we would never give up one for the other, we just really need both!

So, what did men’s fashion week actually tell us?

That menswear is loosening up again. It wants humour, heat, oddness, sensuality and a little bit of mess. It wants a man who can wear a sharp jacket, a tiny short, a weird shoe and a serious bag without needing the outfit to explain itself too politely.

But also, we must mention there was SO many other brands that really stood out and contributed to the “menswear heatwave”, such as: Louis Gabriel Nouchi, Sean Suen, DSM Kei Ninomiya, and manyyyyyy more!!!

The best collections this season understood that men don’t need another uniform, nor do they need permission to play.

And honestly this might be the best direction menswear has been moving towards in a long time.

image sources: @voguemagazine & TFO imagery

That’s exactly why Naomi Osaka’s entrance mattered.

Before stepping onto court, Osaka unveiled “Evolving Ceremony,” a custom walk on look created with designer Hana Yagi, creative director Marty Harper and Nike. Inspired by Japanese ceremonial dress, including the shiromuku bridal kimono, the piece was crafted from vintage textiles and embroidered with cranes and cherry blossoms before transforming into her regulation all white Nike competition kit.

But reducing the moment to “fashion” misses the bigger picture.

This wasn’t simply a garment.It was a brand strategy brought to life.

Luxury brands have spent the last decade competing for attention during Fashion Month, where dozens of runway shows fight for the same audience. Sport offers something fashion increasingly struggles to create: live audiences, genuine anticipation and moments that people actively choose to watch.

That is exactly why brands are investing more heavily in sports than ever before.

Nike understands that today’s most valuable campaigns don’t always happen inside a studio. They happen live, in front of millions of viewers, with social media amplifying every moment within seconds. A custom entrance at Wimbledon generates editorial coverage, Instagram posts, TikToks and conversations across fashion, sport and culture. All of that comes from a look worn for only a few minutes.

In other words, the outfit itself isn’t the product.

Osaka has quietly become one of Nike’s most important creative collaborators. Rather than treating athletes as billboards for performance apparel, the brand is positioning them as storytellers.

That reflects a much broader shift happening across the industry.

Global spending on sports sponsorship now exceeds $100 billion annually, with brands allocating more of those budgets to cultural storytelling, creative collaborations and unforgettable experiences rather than traditional advertising. Luxury houses are expanding into Formula 1, football, tennis and the Olympic movement because they understand that sport has become one of the most powerful platforms for capturing global attention.

Osaka’s Wimbledon appearance is a perfect example.The garment wasn’t designed to sell.It was designed to strengthen Nike’s brand, celebrate Osaka’s identity and create a cultural moment that would travel far beyond Centre Court.

And if the most successful campaigns are measured by cultural impact instead of advertising impressions, Naomi Osaka may have delivered one of the smartest brand moments of the summer before the first point had even been played.

by TFO xx

But something has shifted.

Fashion is becoming louder again. Bright colours are back on the runway, bold prints are returning, and shades that demand attention are replacing the safe choices we became used to. One colour that keeps appearing everywhere is Tiffany blue, that unmistakable mix of turquoise and pastel blue that feels both nostalgic and futuristic.

The question is: why now?

Historically, periods of uncertainty have often influenced fashion in unexpected ways. During difficult economic moments, designers have sometimes turned towards escapism, using colour, fantasy, and exaggerated silhouettes as a way to create desire and optimism.

But this moment feels different. It is not simply about “recession fashion” or a reaction to financial pressure. It feels more like a collective move away from restraint.

After years of minimalism, people seem ready to have fun with clothes again. Fashion is becoming less about blending in and more about creating a visual identity. A turquoise bag, a bright coat, or a full colour look becomes a statement. It is less about showing status and more about showing personality.

Tiffany blue carries a very specific emotional connection. It feels fresh, playful, and instantly recognisable.

The rise of this colour also reflects a wider shift happening across fashion. Designers are moving towards stronger contrasts, unexpected colour combinations, and pieces that are designed to be noticed. The idea of owning something memorable is becoming more appealing than another perfectly minimal wardrobe staple.

Maybe this is not a recession indicator at all. Maybe it is a response to years of playing it safe.

Fashion has always reflected how people feel. Right now, the mood seems to be moving away from disappearing into the background and towards being seen.

Tiffany blue is not just another colour trend. It represents a bigger change in fashion: a return to emotion, experimentation, and the idea that getting dressed should be exciting again.

The reason is simple: menswear has stopped being predictable.

For decades, men’s fashion followed a familiar formula: tailoring, outerwear, sneakers, luxury basics. But today’s designers are treating menswear as a space for experimentation, identity and storytelling. The modern man is not being offered one version of masculinity anymore. He can be romantic, rebellious, elegant, theatrical or minimalist, sometimes all at once.

This new freedom has transformed men’s shows into cultural events rather than just presentations of clothes. Designers such as Pharrell Williams at Louis Vuitton, Kim Jones during his years at Dior Men, and Anthony Vaccarello at Saint Laurent have helped redefine what a menswear show can look like. The focus is no longer just on clothes, but on creating worlds, communities and moments that people want to be part of.

Celebrity culture has also completely changed the scale of men’s fashion week. The front rows are no longer filled only with editors and buyers. Musicians, actors, athletes and internet personalities have become part of the fashion ecosystem, turning shows into global entertainment moments. A single appearance can generate millions of views within minutes, making menswear a powerful platform for brands to connect with a younger audience.

But perhaps the biggest change is that men’s fashion itself has become more emotionally driven. Women’s fashion has traditionally allowed fantasy, transformation and drama, while menswear was often expected to stay practical. That boundary has disappeared. Today, men are engaging with fashion in a way that feels more personal, using clothes as a form of self-expression rather than simply a reflection of status.

The rise of luxury streetwear has also played a major role. The success of sneakers, collaborations and celebrity-led brands proved that menswear could create the same level of hype traditionally associated with women’s luxury. The appointment of designers with strong cultural identities showed that menswear could become a place where fashion, music, art and celebrity collide.

Even the structure of fashion week itself is changing. The after-parties, dinners and events surrounding the shows are becoming almost as important as the runway itself. They create the moments that dominate social media and define a season’s cultural relevance. In today’s fashion industry, the show might introduce the collection, but the conversation often happens afterwards.

Men’s fashion week is growing because menswear is finally being treated with the same creativity, ambition and cultural importance as womenswear. It is no longer just about dressing men. It is about exploring who men want to become.

And that might be why the future of fashion feels increasingly masculine, not because menswear is becoming more traditional, but because it is becoming limitless.

by TFO

XOXO

The issue was always cultural.

Most technology companies approached smart glasses as a product problem. They focused on features, specifications and innovation. Consumers, however, viewed them through a completely different lens. No matter how advanced the technology was, people still had to put them on their face. And when something sits on your face, design matters just as much as functionality.

That is why Meta’s latest collaboration with Kylie Jenner feels bigger than a celebrity endorsement.

It feels like an acknowledgment that technology alone is not enough anymore.

The company’s previous eyewear launches generated plenty of discussion within the tech space, but they never truly crossed over into fashion culture. They were products that people admired for what they could do, not necessarily for how they looked. This new partnership signals a different ambition altogether.

By bringing Kylie Jenner into the picture, Meta is tapping into an audience that has historically shown little interest in wearable technology. Jenner’s influence extends far beyond social media. She has spent years shaping consumer behaviour, whether through beauty, fashion, lifestyle or product launches. Millions of people trust her taste, and more importantly, they pay attention to what she wears.

What Meta is really buying here is not celebrity endorsement. It’s cultural relevance.

The timing is particularly interesting because the relationship between fashion and technology has become increasingly intertwined over the past year. We have seen luxury brands, eyewear companies and technology giants all exploring what the future of wearable devices could look like. The conversation is no longer about whether smart glasses will become mainstream. It is about who will make them desirable enough for fashion consumers to embrace.

Many people immediately compared Meta’s latest move to what brands like Gentle Monster have been doing within the eyewear space. The comparison is understandable. Fashion focused eyewear collaborations have become increasingly important as companies search for ways to make technology feel less intimidating and more aspirational.

At the same time, it would be unfair to suggest that Meta is simply following someone else’s lead. Products like these take years to develop. Partnerships of this scale are negotiated long before they become public. What we’re seeing is less about one company copying another and more about multiple industries arriving at the same conclusion simultaneously.

The reality is that consumers are no longer willing to compromise on aesthetics for innovation. The modern customer expects both. They want products that work seamlessly but also fit naturally into their existing lifestyle. A pair of smart glasses is no longer competing against other tech devices. It’s competing against the sunglasses already sitting in someone’s wardrobe.

This is where Kylie Jenner becomes such a strategic choice.

You could argue that someone like Hailey Bieber would have also made perfect sense. She represents a generation of consumers obsessed with beauty, wellness and understated luxury. Her influence on shopping habits is undeniable. Yet Kylie offers something slightly different. She brings scale, visibility and immediate global attention. She turns a product launch into a cultural moment.

More importantly, she introduces Meta to an entirely new audience.

The company is no longer speaking exclusively to people interested in artificial intelligence, hardware or the future of technology. It is speaking to fashion consumers. To beauty consumers. To people who may never have considered buying smart glasses but suddenly find themselves curious because Kylie Jenner is involved.

That shift could prove incredibly important.

The next phase of wearable technology will not be determined solely by innovation. It will be determined by adoption. And adoption often has less to do with what a product can do and more to do with how it makes people feel.

For years, smart glasses have been trying to convince consumers that they are useful.

Meta’s latest launch suggests the company has realised something far more important.

Consumers already understand usefulness.

Now they want desire.

And that is a challenge that fashion has been solving for decades.

From TikTok-first campaigns and creator partnerships to product launches designed specifically for younger consumers, much of the industry’s marketing strategy revolved around capturing the attention of the generation seen as beauty’s future.

But according to Launchmetrics’ new industry data, that era may be coming to an end.

Beauty brands are increasingly moving away from single-generation marketing and embracing a broader, more inclusive approach that speaks to consumers across age groups. Rather than focusing exclusively on Gen Z, brands are building campaigns that resonate with Gen Alpha, Millennials, Gen X and Baby Boomers simultaneously.

And the results suggest it’s working.

According to recent industry analysis, brands running multigenerational campaigns experienced media impact value growth of 42%, compared to 36% for brands that did not adopt a similar strategy.

While the difference may seem relatively small on paper, in an industry where competition for attention has never been greater, those percentage points matter.

The shift reflects a broader reality that many beauty companies are finally acknowledging: consumers of all ages are actively participating in the beauty market at the same time.

For years, beauty marketing often operated under the assumption that younger automatically meant more relevant. But relevance today is no longer defined by age alone. It’s defined by cultural influence, purchasing power and authenticity.

And that includes skincare:

Some of the industry’s biggest campaigns over the past year have demonstrated exactly why.

MAC Cosmetics offered one of the clearest examples with its “I Only Wear MAC” campaign. Rather than focusing on a single demographic, the brand assembled a cast spanning generations, featuring talent aged between 19 and 70 years old. The campaign generated $4.9 million in media impact value within just 48 hours, proving that age diversity can create just as much cultural conversation as youth-focused marketing.

Lancôme took a similar approach. Its campaign featuring Zoë Saldaña, Demi Moore and Ella McCutcheon positioned beauty not as something tied to a specific life stage, but as something that evolves throughout a person’s life. The result was a campaign that generated $6.5 million in media impact value within a month while appealing to multiple audiences simultaneously.

What’s particularly interesting is that these campaigns aren’t abandoning younger consumers.

Instead, they’re recognising that modern beauty customers exist across multiple generations. A teenager discovering skincare on TikTok, a Millennial investing in premium makeup and a Gen X consumer shopping for luxury beauty products are all contributing to the same market.

The brands winning today understand that they don’t need separate identities for different age groups. They need a consistent message that can be expressed through different voices, creators and platforms.

In many ways, beauty is finally catching up to reality.

Consumers no longer see themselves as belonging exclusively to one generation’s culture. Social media has blurred those boundaries. Trends move across age groups faster than ever, and consumers increasingly engage with the same brands, products and conversations regardless of age.

The future of beauty marketing isn’t about choosing between Gen Z and everyone else.

It’s about building campaigns that feel relevant to everyone at once.

For years, beauty brands chased Gen Z as the industry’s ultimate growth engine. Today, the smartest brands are realising that growth comes from understanding the entire beauty consumer landscape, not just one corner of it.

The future isn’t generational exclusivity.

It’s generational inclusion.

This shift isn’t random or accidental. Formula 1’s global footprint has exploded in the last decade, with over 1.5 billion annual viewers and tens of millions of social followers. Its audience is younger, more globally diverse, and far more engaged with fashion and aspirational lifestyle than at any point in the sport’s history.

At the heart of this crossover sits one striking reality: F1 drivers are not just athletes anymore. They are personalities with reach, style, and influence - precisely the qualities that fashion and beauty brands are craving.

Pierre Gasly: Polo Shirts and Perfume Campaigns

Take Pierre Gasly, for example. The French racer has been appointed brand ambassador for Lacoste, fronting the label’s signature polo shirt - a garment that lives at the intersection of heritage sport and contemporary style. Lacoste, famed for reinventing a tennis court classic into a universal wardrobe staple, found in Gasly a representative who embodies both athletic precision and modern elegance.

That’s not all. Gasly also became the face of Gentleman Society Eau de Parfum Ambrée, expanding his presence beyond fashion and into beauty.

Lewis Hamilton: From Track Legend to Style Icon

Perhaps no driver has moved more fluidly between sport and style than Lewis Hamilton. His influence extends far beyond the cockpit. Hamilton’s relationship with high fashion has been evolving for years - from fashion week front rows to bespoke collaborations with fashion houses.

Most recently, he partnered with Lululemon as a global ambassador, helping shape menswear initiatives and appearing across lifestyle campaigns. This kind of role isn’t typical for an elite athlete, but Hamilton’s cultural reach is anything but typical. His presence in fashion circles signals a new blueprint for how sports figures can influence style narratives on and off the track.

Fernando Alonso and Boss Tailoring

Fernando Alonso has also carved out a unique space in fashion, serving as a global ambassador for Hugo Boss. His appearances in campaign imagery and public engagements represent the growing appetite for polished, tailored menswear in motorsport culture.

Charles Leclerc and APM Monaco

Charles Leclerc has also built meaningful fashion partnerships, most notably with APM Monaco. Leclerc’s association with the brand feels almost destined: both share roots in Monaco, a principality synonymous with glamour and luxury. Beyond jewellery, Leclerc’s appearances in tailored pieces and high‑end campaigns underscore how the new wave of drivers are embracing elevated style as part of their personal and professional identity.

Lando Norris: The New Polo Face

Meanwhile, Lando Norris has become one of the most visible young faces in fashion, most recently fronting campaigns for Ralph Lauren’s Polo fragrances.

In other words: F1 drivers aren’t just wearing the future. They’re shaping it.

But what does this mean for the sport itself? Are we witnessing a new era where lap times and podiums share equal billing with personal style and brand influence? Could the next generation of drivers be judged as much on their Instagram presence and luxury partnerships as on their race results??

As the paddocks get flashier and the campaigns more ambitious, one thing is clear: Formula 1 is no longer just a sport. It’s a cultural accelerator.

So, which driver do you think will be the ultimate style icon of the grid? And which luxury brand is next to stake its claim in this fast-paced fashion race?

That image alone tells you everything. Control. Clarity. Confidence. No noise, no gimmicks, no need to scream for attention. Just a perfectly constructed world that you either understand or you don’t.

And that’s exactly how Vaccarello has approached Saint Laurent from the beginning.

When he stepped into the role, he wasn’t starting from scratch. Yves Saint Laurent had already built one of the most mythologised houses in fashion history. Then came Hedi Slimane, who didn’t just reinterpret the brand, he completely reset it. Slimane’s Saint Laurent was skinny, rock and roll, drenched in youth culture and attitude. It was loud in a very specific way.

YSL BY HEDI SLIMANE

So the real challenge for Vaccarello wasn’t reinvention. It was authorship.

How do you take something that already has such a strong identity and make it feel like yours without breaking it?

Vaccarello’s answer was subtle but strategic. He didn’t try to outdo what came before him. He refined it. Tightened it. Made it sharper, sexier, and more controlled.

YSL BY ANTHONY VACCARELLO

He leaned into what Saint Laurent has always done best, but removed anything that felt unnecessary. The result is a version of the brand that feels distilled. Almost clinical in its precision.

His silhouettes are instantly recognisable. Strong shoulders, impossibly long legs, micro hemlines, sheer fabrics that reveal just enough. There’s always tension in his clothes. Between masculine and feminine, covered and exposed, power and vulnerability.

And then there’s the colour palette, or rather the lack of it.

YSL BY ANTHONY VACCARELLO

Black, more black, and then even more black. Occasionally broken by gold, by white, by a flash of colour that feels intentional rather than decorative. It’s restrictive in theory, but in practice it gives the brand an almost obsessive consistency. You see a look and you know exactly where it belongs.

YSL show space

His runway shows are less about trends and more about atmosphere. A glowing Eiffel Tower in the background. A remote desert that feels cinematic rather than real. Spaces that turn the collection into a mood rather than a moment.

He understands that fashion today isn’t just about what you wear. It’s about how it makes you feel, how it photographs, how it lives online. And he delivers on all of it without ever making it look like he’s trying too hard.

Casting plays a huge role in that.

YSL fall campaign

Vaccarello’s Saint Laurent woman isn’t a cliché. She’s not just “cool” or “sexy” or “effortless.” She’s slightly intimidating. Untouchable in a way that feels deliberate. Whether it’s Kate Moss or a new face, there’s always a sense that these women exist slightly outside of reach.

You’re not invited into their world. You’re observing it.

At the same time, he’s managed to translate that exact energy into something commercially powerful. Accessories, especially, became a key part of the story. Clean, sharp, instantly recognisable. The kind of pieces that don’t just complement the runway, they extend it into real life.

That balance between aspiration and accessibility is where many brands struggle. Vaccarello makes it look easy.

But what’s most interesting about him is how little he overexplains.

In an industry where everyone is constantly talking, posting, reacting, and justifying, Vaccarello stays relatively quiet. He lets the work speak, and more importantly, he edits relentlessly. You can feel that restraint in everything he does.

Even in the way he talks about his process.

ANTHONY VACCARELLO

“I always need some kind of image to inspire me,” he says. It sounds simple, almost reductive, but it reveals everything. His work doesn’t start with concepts or narratives or marketing strategies. It starts with a feeling. A visual. Something instinctive.

And then he builds from there, removing anything that doesn’t belong.

That’s why his Saint Laurent feels so consistent. Not repetitive, but intentional. Every collection adds to the same story instead of trying to rewrite it.

You start to see his influence everywhere. The return of sharp tailoring. The obsession with sleek, controlled sexiness. The move away from maximalism into something more focused, more precise. Whether people realise it or not, a lot of the current fashion mood traces back to what Vaccarello has been quietly doing for years.

And yet, his work never feels reactive.

That’s probably his biggest achievement. He didn’t just keep Saint Laurent relevant. He made it feel steady in a landscape that constantly shifts.

So when you see him now, on that cover, next to Kate Moss, it doesn’t feel like a celebration in the obvious sense. It feels like a confirmation.

He understood the assignment. Then he rewrote it in his own language.

And made it look effortless.

Between headline grabbing collaborations with John Galliano and Willy Chavarria, and a steady stream of campaigns featuring internet darlings like Amelia Gray and Gabbriette, Zara has fully stepped into its “fashion, but make it viral” era.

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This isn’t just fast fashion anymore. It’s fast fashion with a PR team, a moodboard, and a very clear understanding of who’s trending on TikTok.

But before we crown Zara the ultimate winner, let’s not forget about H&M, the quiet overachiever that’s still outperforming in some of the biggest markets globally. Think the United States, India, and the United Kingdom, aka not exactly small leagues.

H&M’s advantage? They’ve been playing the collaboration game long before it became a personality trait. Designer drops, luxury tie ins, viral collections, they’ve built an entire legacy on making high low fashion feel like an event. While Zara is flirting with the idea of fashion credibility, H&M already locked it in years ago and moved on.

So what we’re really looking at is not a battle. It’s a dual takeover.

Zara is serving cool girl, algorithm approved, front row energy.
H&M is giving seasoned, strategic, knows exactly what sells.

Same lane, different drivers.

Of course, the real test is what happens when the clothes actually hit the racks. There’s already buzz around the upcoming Galliano x Zara drop and let’s be honest, we’re all waiting to see not just what it looks like, but how much it costs.

Because if there’s one thing fast fashion lovers have learned the hard way, it’s this. Hype is cute, but quality is remembered.

Just ask anyone who bought the Ludovic de Saint Sernin x Zara pieces.

Let’s just say not everyone was impressed.

In the end, both brands are winning, just in different group chats.

And cast his grandmother Liline as the very first ambassador of Jacquemus.

Not a celebrity cameo. Not a novelty stunt. Not a grandma core trend moment engineered by a focus group. This was lineage. This was memory. This was love dressed beautifully and placed front and centre.

Liline isn’t just in the Jacquemus story she is the story.

Before there were runways in lavender fields before the micro bags broke the internet before Jacquemus became shorthand for sun drenched French fantasy there was a young Simon being raised encouraged and quietly believed in by his grandmother. She supported him long before fashion cared. Long before the brand existed. Long before anyone was watching.

And that’s exactly why this move hits so hard.

Because in a world where authenticity is often a styling choice Jacquemus actually means it.

Simon has said it himself “Long before the brand existed she was already my inspiration. She shaped my vision of women and the way I imagine this fashion house.” And suddenly everything clicks.

Jacquemus has always felt emotional. Soft but strong. Sensual without trying too hard. Sun kissed but grounded. The kind of femininity that feels lived in not performed. That doesn’t shout for attention but somehow still owns the room.

That’s Liline.

Casting her as the brand’s first ambassador isn’t nostalgia it’s a thesis statement. It’s Simon saying this is where it all comes from. Not mood boards. Not algorithms. Not trends. But real women real lives real love.

And let’s be honest there’s something quietly revolutionary about choosing an elderly woman as the face of a luxury fashion house in 2025. Not framed as ironic. Not played for laughs. Not softened or hidden. Just presented with dignity elegance and complete confidence.

It challenges the industry’s obsession with youth without turning it into a lecture. It reframes beauty without screaming about inclusivity. It reminds us that style doesn’t expire it accumulates.

Most brands borrow credibility. Jacquemus inherited it.

This is why the brand continues to resonate so deeply. Because beneath the viral moments and perfect silhouettes there’s a beating heart. A sense of gratitude. A refusal to forget where it all began.

Liline isn’t a muse of the season. She’s the original reference point. The emotional blueprint. The quiet constant behind every overnight success.

And in casting her Simon Porte Jacquemus didn’t just understand the assignment he rewrote it.

Because sometimes the most powerful fashion statement isn’t about what’s new.

It’s about who was there from the very beginning 💛

by TFO xx

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Now scandal is often the point.

In an industry obsessed with relevance, controversy has become a shortcut to attention. In many cases it is no longer a mistake but a calculated risk. Sometimes it even feels planned.

The fashion cycle moves too fast for traditional storytelling. Collections blur together. Trends expire in weeks. So brands reach for the one thing guaranteed to cut through the noise: outrage.

balenciaga and the shock economy

Balenciaga is the clearest example of how scandal can function as strategy. For years, the brand built its identity on provocation. Ugly shoes became status symbols. Luxury was intentionally destabilised. The house thrived on making people uncomfortable while still making them buy.

When the brand crossed a line with its 2022 campaign scandal, the backlash was intense and global. Yet despite public outrage, think pieces, and calls for boycotts, Balenciaga did not disappear. The industry did not fully turn its back. The brand slowed down, apologised, recalibrated, and eventually returned to the conversation.

What this moment revealed was not just a failure of judgement but a shift in tolerance. A scandal that once might have ended a house instead became a pause in its narrative. The lesson was clear: even severe controversy does not necessarily cancel a powerful brand.

diesel and selling provocation

Diesel’s revival under Glenn Martens shows a softer, more controlled use of scandal. The brand leans heavily into sexual imagery, low-rise nostalgia, and a kind of deliberately trashy energy that feels designed to irritate certain audiences while thrilling others.

Nothing Diesel does feels accidental. The brand understands exactly how far it can push before backlash turns into free marketing. It is not about offending everyone, just the right people.

In this case, controversy becomes a positioning tool. Diesel is not trying to be polite. It is trying to be visible.

dolce and gabbana and scandal that sticks

Not all scandals are easily absorbed. Dolce and Gabbana is an example of controversy that created lasting damage. The brand’s repeated racist and sexist controversies were not framed as art or misunderstood creativity. They were personal, careless, and dismissive.

The difference is intention and response. Where other brands hide behind concept or ambiguity, Dolce and Gabbana doubled down, mocked criticism, and alienated entire markets. The result was not just backlash but long-term reputational loss, especially in Asia.

This is where scandal stops being strategy and becomes self-sabotage.

outrage as a marketing engine

What makes scandal so attractive to brands is how perfectly it fits the internet. Algorithms reward intensity. Anger spreads faster than admiration. A controversial image will travel further than a beautifully executed but safe campaign.

Brands know this. They know that people will repost a campaign to criticise it, dissect it, or explain why it is wrong. And in doing so, they amplify it.

Even accountability has become part of the marketing ecosystem. Statements are issued. Comments are limited. Screenshots circulate anyway. The discourse becomes the campaign.

why it keeps working

The uncomfortable truth is that consumers are not passive victims in this system. We are participants. We know when something feels engineered to provoke. We still engage. We still share. We still talk.

Outrage has become a form of cultural participation. A way to show awareness. A way to prove taste and politics online. Even refusing to engage becomes a visible stance.

Brands count on this.

when controversy loses power

But scandal has a shelf life. When every campaign tries to shock, shock becomes boring. When everything is controversial, nothing feels meaningful.

Provocation without substance creates noise, not legacy. The brands that endure are not the ones constantly chasing outrage, but the ones with a clear point of view that exists beyond reaction.

Scandal can buy attention. It can even drive short-term sales. But it cannot replace vision, consistency, or trust.

the real risk

The biggest risk is not backlash. It is cynicism.

When audiences stop believing that brands stand for anything beyond engagement, fashion loses its emotional charge. Desire turns into detachment. Style becomes content. Everything feels disposable.

Scandal may keep a brand visible. But visibility alone is not culture.

And eventually, even outrage stops converting.

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For years, makeup has been obsessed with behaving. Clean lines. Clean skin. Clean girl this, clean girl that. Perfectly blended, perfectly neutral, perfectly forgettable.

2026 is officially over it.

What’s coming next isn’t about flawlessness, it’s about impact. Makeup that looks lived-in. Slightly messy. Emotional. Awake at 3am. Makeup that admits you’re human, tired, expressive, and occasionally chaotic.

Here are the looks we’re betting on, and quietly confirming that the clean girl era has packed up and left.

1. messy, smudged, lived-in makeup

Think blurred eyeliner, creased shadow, smudged mascara, makeup that looks like it’s survived something. This is the anti-perfection look: nothing crisp, nothing precious. Smokey eyes that feel slept-in rather than staged. It’s not accidental, it’s deliberate undoing.

2. bold colour placement

Cobalt, chartreuse, cherry red, neon pastels, but applied with restraint and intention. Inner-corner blocks, lower-lash pops, single-stroke washes. Less rainbow, more punctuation mark. Colour as design, not decoration.

3. “tired eyes” & undone under-eyes

Visible eye bags. Soft purple shadows. A touch of redness. Concealer that doesn’t fully erase reality. Fatigue, but make it aesthetic. Instead of correcting under-eyes into oblivion, this trend leans into what faces actually look like.

4. wet-look skin (not dewy, wet)

This isn’t glow. It’s gloss. Lids, cheekbones, brows, collarbones, finished with balms, oils and glosses so skin looks liquid. Slightly reflective. Almost uncomfortable. The face equivalent of vinyl.

5. blush as structure

Blush stops being “cute” and starts doing actual work. Draped, diagonal, sculpted. Saturated berry cheeks, flushed-from-the-cold tones, blush replacing bronzer entirely. Colour that shapes the face instead of warming it politely.

6. statement bottom lashes

Twiggy-adjacent, but not retro cosplay. Chunky lower mascara, painted-on lashes, clusters applied only to the bottom lash line. A little doll-like. A little unsettling. Very intentional.

7. monochrome saturation

One colour across lids, cheeks and lips, but deep, rich, and unapologetic. Brick reds, plums, mauves, terracottas. Not minimalism. Not “no-makeup makeup.” Just colour.

8. blurred lips & soft-edge stains

Precise lip lines are taking a back seat. Think bitten lips, diffused edges, K-beauty stains, softly smudged liners. Romantic, imperfect, a little undone, like you’ve been living, not lining.

9. the cool-toned revival

Silver shadow. Frosted lids. Grey contour. Muted pinks. Early-2000s energy, but edited and cleaner. Cool tones are back.

10. punk-adjacent details

Smudged black shadow. Heavy liner in the waterline. Strong brows. Metallic accents. Less full goth, more controlled rebellion. Punk influence without the costume.

11. one-feature maximalism

Everything pared back except one exaggerated element: an oversized wing, blown-out blush, full-glitter lid, graphic lip. Editorial, but still wearable. Drama with discipline.

so, what’s the mood?

2026 makeup is expressive, imperfect, and a little confrontational. Messy lines. Bold colour. Tired eyes. Wet skin. Sculpted blush. Blurred lips.

Makeup that looks alive, not airbrushed.

Makeup that suggests a personality, not a Pinterest board.

And yes, this is us finally, officially, (once again) confirming it:

The clean girl era is retired.

Here’s the story: the promo playbook got thrown out the limo window. Instead of just “stars on the carpet + press junket + trailer drop”, we now get colour takeovers, staged fake video calls, gargantuan out of home stunts and even spurious superheroes perched on skyscrapers. Yes, really. T

he idea is no longer simply to reach an audience, it’s to ambush one.

1. Big dumb billboards? Barely cutting it.

These days, static poster campaigns are paying rent but not grabbing attention. What’s grabbing attention: out of home displays that behave more like art pieces or stunts than ads.

We’re seeing OOH campaigns turning everyday spaces into surprising brand moments. And then there’s the campaign for Final Destination: Bloodlines in Malaysia, which placed OOH ads styled as warning signs in a mall, perfectly aligned with the film’s creepy vibe.

In short: people aren’t waiting to look at your trailer, they’re stepping into your trailer. The billboard is now a live moment.

2. Takeovers, but make them theatrical.

Want to promote a film? Don’t just plaster posters. Take over. We’re talking entire façades, entire colour palettes, even entire moods.

Giant characters clinging to buildings, massive visuals that interrupt skylines, pop ups that feel like alternate universes. Out of home advertising has become a form of immersive theatre. Passive is dead.

3. The fake Zoom meeting? Genius.

Yes, you read that right: a fake Zoom meeting for a film.

Enter the campaign for Marty Supreme starring Timothée Chalamet. The whole thing was pitched as a marketing meeting where Chalamet (buzz cut, yellow vest and all) throws out absurd promotional ideas like painting the Statue of Liberty orange. It’s hilarious, self aware, and totally untraditional.

Why does it work? Because instead of “here’s a trailer, enjoy”, it feels like the star is in on the joke, inviting the audience behind the scenes, and saying: “We know this whole promo thing is bonkers.” The promo becomes part of the experience.

4. Star led mischief as marketing.

Chalamet’s rollout for Marty Supreme didn’t stop at the Zoom skit. There was a visual artist’s doodle of a blimp that became a Google Easter egg. There was merch, a pop up event. It all felt like a running internet prank starring a movie.

The lesson: the star isn’t just posing. They’re orchestrating the chaos.

5. Why this is the new old school.

Because the world of attention is drowning in sameness. If your film campaign looks like every other one, it disappears.

what this new wave is doing:

• Creating moments, not just trailers
• Making the audience feel part of the story before they watch the film
• Using public spaces and social platforms as one continuous canvas
• Encouraging playful, weird, self aware tones instead of glossy perfection

Film marketing used to shout “You must go to the cinema.” Now it throws confetti in your face and says “Look at this madness. You want in?”

So what does this mean for the next film you’re hyping?

If you’re planning promo (or studying how the studios are doing it), ask yourself:

• How can we interrupt public space instead of politely renting it
• How can our star shape the promo instead of just featuring in it
• Can we bring audiences behind the curtain and let them enjoy the madness
• Can we merge digital and real spaces into one long running spectacle

Nobody is captivated by “press tour, but again” anymore. They are very captivated by “what on earth is this film doing in my life right now?”

First it was quiet luxury: the beige, the whispers, the stealth-wealth sweaters designed to signal taste while insisting they mean nothing at all. Then the loud luxury renaissance: logos returning with the confidence of someone who’s been to therapy and realized they deserve attention again.

But here’s the truth: neither of these systems define how gen Z engages with luxury anymore.

The new luxury code is something else entirely, something sharper, stranger, more obsessive.

Luxury today is about specificity.

The more oddly particular, historically niche, materially fascinating, culturally referential a piece is, the more powerful it becomes.

Call it the era of hyper-specific flexing.

The rise of the “wait, what Is that?”

Gen Z doesn’t want the logo. They want the conversation starter. A Prada SS03 metal-bar double pouch bag. A wooden bangle that clinks like a 1970s flea-market score. A Margiela Tabi, not because it’s weird, but because it’s historical. An archive Alexander McQueen piece (could literally be anything as long as the word archive comes with it), or any other item that makes their pupils dilate.

The new luxury isn’t about being recognized, it’s about being identifiable to the right people. (if it’s identifiable by anyone, that’s not it)

A piece that only 5% of the room understands now carries more cultural weight than something 95% of the room can spot from across the table.

Being misunderstood is the idea (call it flex if you wish).

Why gen Z rejects broad-spectrum luxury

Previous generations wanted luxury to feel universal, the bag everyone knew, the shoe everyone wanted. Gen Z wants the exact opposite.

Three major shifts explain why:

1. the algorithm has fragmented taste

Everyone sees different things. Everyone falls into different micro-trends, micro-subcultures, micro-archives. Fashion isn’t one conversation anymore, it’s thousands of conversations divided by different types of people (each with their own “if you know you know”). Specificity feels honest in a world where taste has become hyper-personalized.

2. Authenticity now lives in the details

Kids who grew up online have developed forensic taste. They notice the stitching. They know the season. They know the designer’s era within the brand’s era. They know the archive reference.

The new status symbol is knowledge, not noise.

3. Brand loyalty isn’t enough, storytelling is the draw

Luxury items must now mean something. A bangled wrist isn’t just accessories, it’s material culture (or perhaps just someone trying to channel Michelle Lamy). An eel-skin bag isn’t just craft, it’s history. A technical camo jacket isn’t just streetwear, it’s a narrative about design lineage and evolution.

Gen Z buys objects that feel like stories you can wear.

Material obsession is the new luxury badge

It’s not “quiet.” It’s not “loud.” It’s material.

Wood, glass, brushed metal, mother of pearl, resin, exotic skin, velvet, crystal-studded trims, technical polyurethane blends. The more tactile the piece, the more powerful the response.

WHY?

Because luxury has become sensory again. We crave weight, texture, clink, movement, proof that the object exists beyond a screen. Digital fashion can trend, but material culture hits the spot.

The archive effect

A whole generation missed the original shows, so they’re discovering the past like cultural archaeologists. Tom Ford Gucci pieces are being studied with academic precision (and suddenly became every fashion girlies’ favourite era in fashion). Early 2000s Galliano is becoming a language. Helmut Lang is being treated like he’s required reading. Prada 2000s nylon is basically a cosmology at this point. Gen Z treats archives the way previous generations treated luxury stores: the place where the real fashion happens.

Specificity is the new exclusivity.

So what does this mean for luxury?

• Logos don’t matter. Lineage does. People want to know the designer, the year, the reference.

• Craft isn’t something you talk about, it’s something you can feel. Materials are doing the heavy lifting.

• The rarest flex is knowledge. If you know, you know, and if you don’t, that’s the point.

• The future of luxury is curation, not consumption. The brands that win will be the brands that create specific, compelling cultural objects, not mass luxury identities.

• Luxury has become a niche sport. And everyone wants to play at expert level.

The bottom line

Gen Z luxury isn’t the quiet whisper of old money. It isn’t the loud declaration of 2010s hype culture. It’s the sharp, obsessive, reference-encoded thrill of wearing something so specific that only the right people know what it is, and why it matters. The new question isn’t: “is it luxury?”, it’s “is it specific enough to care about?”

And honestly? This might be the most interesting era fashion has had in years!

From Balenciaga giving its cult silhouettes a fuzzy glow-up to Miu Miu and Chloé dipping their icons in that velvety finish, the message is clear: the biggest bags this season aren’t shiny-they’re plush.

A soft rebellion against the high shine era

For years, leather has dominated. From Céline’s boxy totes (and PLEASE Céline bless us with some suede options too) to The Row’s slouchy giants, the material has been the default language of luxury. Suede, in comparison, always felt like its quieter sibling *more 70’s nostalgia than modern power*.

But fashion loves a contradiction. After seasons of high-polish, logo-heavy leather, the return of suede feel like a deliberate shift. It’s textural, it’s tactile, and it softens the silhouette without sacrificing sophistication. In other words, it makes bags feel lived-in (&not in the TikTok style of purposedly destroying a bag to make it look used), even when they’re straight off the runway.

Where suede comes from

The term “suede” originates from the French phrase gants de Suède, meaning “gloves from Sweden”. In the 19th century, these imported Swedish gloves were made from soft, brushed leather, and their luxurious feel made them an instant hit among the European elite. Over time, that supple texture became synonymous with understated elegance. Basically, a softer alternative to the stiff, glossy hides used for traditional leather goods.

Suede became a fashion obsession in the 1970s, when bohemia reigned supreme. Think fringe jackets, slouchy (the most trending word lately) boots, and earthy tones. It was the material of freedom, rebellion, and sensuality - a counterpoint to the structured stiffness of post-war dressing.

Why suede feels right (,right now)

Fashion is cyclical (ALWAYS), and suede’s resurgence is more than nostalgia, it really is a mood. In an era obsessed with tactility (thank TikTok& its content creators for making textures go viral), suede gives us something leather can’t: softness. It absorbs light instead of bouncing it, creating a matte, almost cozy effect that feels fresh in a world of chrome hardware and glossy polish.

The current wave isn’t about hippie jackets or cowboy boots (or maybe just a little), but it is about bags. Balenciaga’s Rodeo, Chloé’s Marcie and Miu Miu’s Arcadie are leading the suede renaissance, giving classics a tactile twist. And must mention that almost every single brand has a suede version now: Alaïa, Marc Jacobs, Jacquemus, Moschino, Saint Laurent… you name it. Even brands like Loewe and Valentino are playing with suede as a subtle luxury marker -because nothing whispers luxury like a material that requires extra care (and yes, suede is that high-maintenance sibling).

The takeaway? Soft power wins.

Leather isn’t going anywhere, but suede is rewriting the rules of statement dressing. It’s less about shine, more about feel. And in a season obsessed with quiet luxury (besides AW25’s RTW loud colours), what could be louder than softness?

So next time you’re reaching for a glossy leather tote, pause.

The chichest choice might just be the one with a little fuzz.

One of those quiet icons? A lipstick called Futurama, born from the most unlikely of mid-century marriages: Revlon and Van Cleef & Arpels. Yes, that Van Cleef.

A High-Low Collab Before Collabs Were Even a Thing

In the 1950s decades before designer makeup became a staple in every department store, Revlon, the reigning queen of affordable beauty, teamed up with the French fine jewelry house to release Futurama. The lipstick came housed in a glimmering, spaceship-chic case that felt more like a collector’s item than a cosmetic.

Silver-plated. Enameled. Sometimes studded with rhinestones. Other times engraved like heirloom vanity pieces. You’d replace the lipstick bullet when it ran out, but the glamorous case stayed with you for life (or until you dropped it into a 70s shag carpet and never found it again).

It wasn’t the first moment when beauty touched luxury , the house of Lalique had long been designing fragrance bottles like objets d’art but Futurama was among the first to democratize the concept. It whispered: you might not afford diamonds, but you can have this. A secret wink of glamour, tucked into your handbag.

Enter: The Lipstick Effect

Futurama launched in the wake of World War II a time of rationing, rebuilding, and economic caution. And yet, lipstick sales soared. Why?

Economists call it the lipstick effect: when times get tough, people skip the Birkin bag but splurge on the lipstick. It’s not about need. It’s about desire, a tiny purchase that delivers a jolt of joy, a reminder of beauty, a hit of normalcy.

Futurama nailed the formula: affordable aspiration, made tactile.

Why It Matters (Again) — Right Now

Fast forward to today, and the luxury-lipstick-meets-refillable-case fantasy is having a full-blown comeback. From Dries Van Noten’s lacquered lipstick sculptures to Hermès’s absurdly chic (and wildly successful) beauty line, the trend has come full circle.

What once felt like a novelty is now a blueprint. In a post-pandemic world, where uncertainty lingers and inflation hovers, beauty continues to prove its resilience. Sales are up, lipstick’s back (in matte, satin, sheer, and every refillable format), and people still crave that little hit of something.

And yes heritage houses that never touched a foundation brush a decade ago are now quietly entering the beauty arena. Not just to make money (though, of course), but to own a part of your vanity, your ritual, your self-image.

Revlon Did It First

We might obsess over new-gen luxury beauty now, but let’s give credit where it’s due: Revlon was one of the first to understand that even in hard times, people want beauty. Not the kind that’s out of reach the kind that fits in your pocket but makes you feel like you own the world.

It’s nostalgia, yes. But it’s also strategy. Futurama was more than a lipstick. It was a signal: that beauty can be both democratic and divine. That what you swipe on in the morning can be armor, art, and aspiration , all in one twist.

And that maybe, just maybe, a refillable lipstick really can change the world. Or at least your mood.

With love,

your favourite The Fashion Observer

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If her name sounds familiar, it's because Chloe, 39, comes with some serious fashion pedigree. She's the daughter of Hollywood icon Candice Bergen and legendary French director Louis Malle

But don’t let the last name fool you, this isn’t a case of nepotism chic. Chloe’s been putting in the work behind the scenes at Vogue since 2011. She’s currently in charge of Vogue.com (yes, the whole thing), and her fingerprints are all over some of the magazine’s splashiest content: the Met Gala coverage, wedding spreads that make you want to elope immediately, and those interior issues that have us redecorating our apartments (again).

Most recently, she snagged an exclusive interview with Lauren Sánchez for her Vogue cover , considering it dropped right before her wedding to none other than Jeff Bezos. Power move? Absolutely.

But Chloe’s not the only name swirling in this very well-dressed game of musical chairs. Also rumored to be in the running: Nicole Phelps, the powerhouse behind Vogue Runway; Amy Astley, who turned Architectural Digest into Pinterest gold; and Chioma Nnadi, the editor leading British Vogue into its next chapter.

The guessing game won’t last much longer. The new editor-in-chief is expected to be announced just in time for New York Fashion Week, kicking off September 11. So mark your calendars, darling this fashion soap opera is about to hit its finale.

Whoever wins, one thing’s certain: Vogue will never be the same

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Your favourite The Fashion Observer

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You’ve definitely seen those TikToks: someone strolling through a factory in China, casually pointing at leggings that look like Lululemon, or bags that scream Hermès (minus the logo). The pitch? “Same factory, no logo, fraction of the price.” Tempting, right?

With trade tensions heating up between the US and China, these clips have gone viral again. $5 leggings that “feel just like Lululemon,” $1000 “Birkin-style” bags millions are buying into the idea they’ve cracked the luxury code.

But here’s the spoiler: luxury doesn’t really work that way.

What Actually Comes From “That Factory”?

Yes, some luxury goods have components made in China or Asia like zippers, clasps, tiny bits you probably don’t even notice. But the cutting, stitching, finishing happens in Europe, under obsessive quality control. That’s how brands confidently slap on a “Made in France” label.

The Legal Reality Check

Real luxury factories are locked into iron-clad contracts:
No selling leftovers
No “extra runs”

Risking a multimillion-dollar partnership for a few viral clips? Not happening. Which means the factories flaunting “luxury without the label” are likely producing… something else entirely.

These knockoff sellers have a short shelf life. Brands file complaints, accounts vanish, and even unbranded products get targeted since many designs are protected by patents and 3D trademarks. Sellers now play games: posting “USB cables” with secret winks about what you’re really getting. Very classy from their side

Lululemon outright called BS on these claims, saying they don’t work with the TikTok-famous factories. Hermès doubled down, reminding everyone their goods are 100% French-made. No shortcuts.

When Startups Push Too Far

Remember Italic? The startup that bragged “why pay for the logo?” They got hit with lawsuits from Diptyque and ALO Yoga for shady comparisons and false advertising. Spoiler: they don’t make those comparisons anymore.

These viral hacks may be entertaining but they tap into a timeless debate:
Is luxury pricing pure madness… or is the craftsmanship worth every penny?
And when push comes to shove, would you actually settle for the “dupe”?

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Cracks in the Crown Jewels

The troubles aren’t confined to the stock chart. The very pillars of LVMH’s empire are wobbling.

• Dior, once the growth engine, is noticeably losing steam.

• Moët Hennessy is suffering a serious hangover, battered by falling demand in both the US and China.

• And the mighty Louis Vuitton, LVMH’s golden goose, is now catching flak for losing its identity in a sea of collaborations, logo mania, and inconsistent brand messaging.

Investors, known for turning a blind eye during boom times, are now growing restless. With over 75 brands in its sprawling portfolio, critics are asking if LVMH has simply gotten too big to manage and whether a dramatic portfolio “diet” might be in order.

Falling from the Top

If that wasn’t enough, LVMH has also been dethroned on the corporate leaderboard.
No longer among the Top 3 biggest companies in Europe.
No longer France’s most valuable company.

The new crown holder? Hermès, the quiet luxury rival that focuses on a single, impeccably-managed brand and has been reaping the rewards of a “less is more” strategy.

And for Bernard Arnault, it’s been a tough pill to swallow: from #1 to #9 on the global billionaires list in just a year.

The Succession Question Looms

As if the numbers weren’t alarming enough, the elephant in the (very expensive) room remains succession. Arnault extended the CEO retirement age to 85, effectively buying himself more time at the top. But succession speculation is reaching fever pitch. Despite several Arnault heirs already holding executive positions within LVMH, no clear successor has been named.

A Midlife Crisis or the End of an Era?

For years, LVMH symbolized the pinnacle of aspirational luxury. But with sliding sales, investor pressure, and a competitor like Hermès lapping them in market value, many are wondering: is this just a temporary stumble or the start of a long-term decline?

One thing’s for sure: luxury isn’t what it used to be and LVMH is finding that out the hard way.