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There was a stretch not so long ago when fashion campaigns felt like waiting rooms. Beige ones. You’d scroll past them, glance at a famous face draped in something allegedly directional, and move on with your life unchanged. No spark. No curiosity. No sense that clothes—or the people imagining them—had anything urgent to say. And then something shifted. After the Great Designer Reshuffle of 2025, a phrase that already sounds like it deserves its own Netflix docuseries narrated by someone whispering reverently, a new generation of creative directors stepped into freshly vacated offices, inherited cavernous ateliers, and did something quietly radical: they remembered that fashion advertising is allowed to be weird again. Not “we hired a celebrity and lit them nicely” weird. Real weird. Thoughtful weird. “Why is this happening and why do I kind of love it?” weird. This year’s early campaigns don’t feel like content obligations. They feel like points of view. Like someone argued in a r...

Fashion loves a redemption arc. If there’s a spotlight, a meaningful cause, and maybe a cocktail reception somewhere in the background, the industry will swoop in wearing sunglasses large enough to double as portable solar panels. And yet, every once in a lunar cycle, fashion stumbles into doing something genuinely good. Accidentally. Like when your cat “helps” you by sitting on your keyboard but somehow closes all your unused Chrome tabs. Enter Elie Tahari: the designer whose brand has dressed more boardrooms than a Deloitte orientation session, now turning his attention toward a population that deserves far more than runway gimmicks — injured IDF servicewomen . This entire story has everything: • Fashion people trying to be deep • Miami being Miami • A Catholic university saying, “Sure, why not?” • Soldiers who have literally been through hell and still manage to outshine influencers • A 73-year-old designer still powered entirely by caffeine, trauma, and immigrant hustle An...

Ah, Paris Fashion Week. The annual spectacle where the rich and famous descend upon the City of Lights to remind the rest of us that “taste” is just another commodity for sale. This year’s parade of designer delusion delivered everything we could’ve hoped for: billionaires pretending to be relatable, actors trapped in fabrics that look like unfinished group projects, and a collective suspension of aesthetic judgment that could power the Louvre’s electricity bill for a decade. Let’s unpack it all—one overpriced outfit and one fragile ego at a time. Chapter 1: The Church of Fashion and Its Holy Pilgrims Paris Fashion Week kicked off September 29, and by October 7, the sidewalks looked like the world’s most expensive costume party hosted by people who mistake self-importance for self-expression. Actors, musicians, and billionaires all swarmed the city, flocking to shows like Louis Vuitton, Givenchy, Balenciaga, and whatever brand can make a garbage bag cost $2,000. Every attendee com...

Welcome, dear reader, to the sartorial circus that is Copenhagen Fashion Week Spring 2026—where functionality crashed face-first into fantasy and, somehow, emerged in high‑fashion harmony. 1. Caro Editions: Wedding Bells Made Weird First up: Caro Editions . Imagine polka dots, lace, and Mulberry plaid marching down the runway like a bridal shower delirium. It’s like someone said, "Let’s take wedding decor, neurologically amplify it, and call it fashion.” But hey, it worked. The Cool Hour +14 Vogue +14 Milled +14 2. Anne Sofie Madsen: Glamorously Gritty Then: Anne Sofie Madsen . Think glam got sloppy-chic drunk and woke up in a back alley with rat bags (literal fashion bags shaped like rats—people cooed). Fashion’s weird, and she owned it. Vogue Business +5 Vogue +5 British Vogue +5 3. Nicklas Skovgaard: The Pajama Party That Could Remember your worst sleepover? No? Because Skovgaard created the runway version—beds, staged like a princess and the pea disaster. Pajamas meet ...

Once upon a time, in a city drowning in tourists, cruise ships, and existential dread about climate change, the richest bald man in the known universe and his helicopter-flying fiancée decided to celebrate their love—by turning Venice into a catwalk for celebrities with more stylists than Italy has gondoliers. Yes, folks, Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sanchez are married , and it only cost Venice its last shred of authenticity. Let’s dive into this three-day bacchanal of couture, superyachts, and passive-aggressive umbrella branding. DAY ONE: STILETTOS ON COBBLESTONES Our tale begins with Lauren Sanchez wafting out of the Aman Hotel in a Schiaparelli dress so tight it probably had its own NDA , smiling beside Jeff Bezos, who looked like a bouncer at a space-themed casino in Monte Carlo. No offense, Jeff—OK, maybe a little. Their procession through Venice wasn't so much a wedding as it was an interactive runway show with boat transfers . Guests weren’t just attending—they were modelin...