Not sure if anyone noticed or cared, but Topshop staged a runway show last week. Yes, Topshop, once the crown jewel of British high street fashion and the Oxford Circus temple where teenagers dragged their parents on Saturday afternoons, made its post-pandemic debut with a splashy open-air spectacle in Trafalgar Square. This was billed as an “iconic” comeback. The British Fashion Council, now under new leadership after Caroline Rush stepped down earlier this year, treated it as a symbolic moment. London fashion was supposedly reclaiming its rightful place on the global stage. The Mayor of London even turned up to bless it all, as though Topshop had revived the industry from the dead. But here’s the thing: nobody was asking for Topshop to come back. And certainly not like this. A Brand Frozen in Time Topshop was once shorthand for accessible cool, the brand that could keep up with the catwalk at a price teenagers could reach with a weekend job. But that was before Shein. Before TikTok micro-trends. Before dropshipping became a business model. Back then, the competition was Zara, H&M, maybe Bershka. Today, the high street is flooded with ultra-fast-fashion retailers producing clothes faster than anyone can scroll through them. In that context, Topshop’s runway show felt like a relic. Rather than offering something new, it leaned heavily on nostalgia. The target audience seemed to be thirty-somethings who once trawled the racks at Oxford Circus while their eardrums were assaulted by blasting indie rock. The problem is simple: we have moved on. The idea that Topshop could turn the clock back is naïve at best and insulting at worst. Ownership Matters Then there is the ownership question. The media painted this as a British fashion revival. But Topshop is now majority-owned by Heartland, the investment company of Danish billionaire Anders Holch Povlsen. ASOS still holds 25 percent, but this is no longer a British brand. To present it as a patriotic victory for London fashion is misleading if not cynical. And Heartland’s first big move? Positioning Topshop inside Liberty. Yes, Liberty, the heritage department store synonymous with craftsmanship, rarity and artistry. Pairing Liberty with a fast-fashion label whose website still cannot produce a coherent sustainability statement is baffling. It weakens Liberty’s prestige while doing nothing to elevate Topshop. Sustainability Theatre Michelle Wilson, a spokesperson for Topshop, has claimed the brand’s higher prices reflect a more sustainable and better-paid supply chain. Customers, she said, are willing to pay for superior quality. Yet the website is silent on sustainability, fair trade, or basic transparency. If this is a new ethical direction, it is absent from anywhere consumers might read about it. Instead, what we saw on the runway was a parade of plastics. Faux leather, faux fur, polyester. If the point was to convince us Topshop had grown up, it only reinforced that the brand remains addicted to cheap synthetics that clog wardrobes and landfills. The opening look was a bubbled faux-leather jacket over a polka-dot dress, tights and boots. The entire composition was synthetic. Topshop used to sell real leather jackets. Now we are offered recession-core knockoffs at PrettyLittleThing prices. The second look was a floor-length Grinch-green faux fur coat at £140. It screamed Love Island circa 2018, not 2025. The third look was the one redeeming moment. A pair of jeans with a decent fit. Denim has always been Topshop’s strong suit. But one good pair of jeans does not justify a runway show. Styling and Inclusivity Beyond the fabrics, the styling was equally uninspired. It felt like a mood board pieced together by someone who last set foot in a Topshop dressing room a decade ago. The references were clear, but the execution lacked freshness. Nostalgia is a powerful tool, but not if the clothes make you nostalgic for the landfill. Inclusivity is another problem. ASOS once built credibility with tall, petite and maternity ranges. Topshop’s relaunch cuts off at size 18. For a brand trying to prove relevance, ignoring large parts of the customer base is a curious choice. Final Thoughts Topshop wanted this show to be its triumphant re-entry into cultural conversation. Instead, it raised uncomfortable questions. Who is this for. What does it stand for. And why should we care. The nostalgia might tug at a few heartstrings. But fashion has moved on. Transparency, innovation and inclusivity are what matter now. Polyester dresses on a runway in 2025 are not enough. Until Topshop figures that out, this is not a revival. It is a rerun.

On a warm Monday in mid-summer, Genaro Rivas returned to London with A Feast for Crows —his Spring/Summer 2026 menswear collection, presented in a deconsecrated church in Covent Garden. The Peruvian designer, recently awarded the Vogue Business x Visa Young Creators prize, continues to explore purpose-driven fashion, this time focusing on denim as a new material within his established sustainable practice. Following a preview at Berlin Fashion Week, the London show revealed a collection crafted entirely from recovered and sustainable denim, shaped through zero-waste pattern cutting, hand embroidery, 3D printing, and laser engraving. From fabric sourcing to finishing, every step embraces circularity and conscientious production, with 95% of the labour led by women across Peru and London. The result is a collection that feels both technically meticulous and deeply considered—an authentic continuation of Rivas’s commitment to ethical creation. The first two looks presented a subtle tension between contrast and cohesion. Both grounded in black denim, the opening outfit layered unexpected textures: denim shorts peeked out from beneath sheer, flowing trousers, paired with a long-sleeve top and a face mask that obscured the wearer’s identity, lending an enigmatic edge. By contrast, the second outfit felt lighter and more playful. An unbuttoned denim jacket, edged with a white fringe detail, sat atop sleek black denim jeans echoing the same triangular fringe motif. The embellishments hinted at a nod to the designer’s Peruvian heritage, weaving tradition into modernity with a subtle but striking gesture. As the collection unfolded, hardware became a key detail - rings of varying sizes, safety pins, and oversized metal buttons punctuated the denim with a rebellious edge. One look that truly caught my eye was a long-sleeve white top with exaggeratedly long sleeves peeking out from beneath a wide-open denim shirt. The white top’s scrunched texture and asymmetric taper created a striking contrast against the loose, blue denim shirt, which was boldly adorned with safety pins. The interplay of textures and shapes here made for a captivating, unexpected combination. Several outfits played with the tension between rugged workwear and traditionally tailored pieces like blazers. One of the standout looks, highlighted in the press release, was a black blazer that balanced deconstruction and detail. Unbuttoned but held together by safety pins, it featured laser-etched reinterpretations of two iconic raven artworks - Raven (1831) by Robert Havell, Jr., and Le Corbeau (1875) by Édouard Manet - mirrored on either side of the jacket. Skinny fabric trimmings cascaded across the piece, creating an illusion of secrecy that echoed motifs introduced earlier in the collection, weaving a sense of mystery into the sharp tailoring. Another standout was a blazer adorned with decorative safety pins at the top, its buttons replaced by multiple silver rings. A long row of rings and safety pins ran down the trousers, bringing 80s punk chic vividly to life - raw, edgy, and utterly captivating. Love. I was particularly taken with the closing look: a pinstripe black suit with trousers so wide and long they seemed almost impractical, exactly the rebellious silhouette I was hoping for. It was show-stopping, loud, and unapologetically bold, like someone strutting down the street with confidence to spare.

It was only a matter of time before Anthropologie took its free-spirited, citrus-scented dreamworld out of the shopping cart and into the bedroom—literally. The retailer has just teamed up with Locke, the design-minded aparthotel brand known for its influencer-adjacent interiors and portable co-working culture, to launch a shoppable suite in Lisbon. Because why just stay in a hotel when you could live in a content-ready Pinterest board? Enter the Locke x Anthropologie Suite at Locke de Santa Joana , the brand’s biggest property to date, which sits just off Lisbon’s Avenida da Liberdade like a boho-fabulous oasis for people who own more than one scented candle and have strong opinions about jute. The one-bedroom terrace suite—available for bookings through 30 September—comes wrapped in what Anthropologie is calling a Mediterranean makeover, though you could also file it under “elevated brunch-core.” Think: striped glass candle holders, juice glasses printed with fruit motifs, and an ‘al fresco in Positano’ colour palette that makes you want to order a €9 peach bellini and discuss your recent ceramic phase. Everything in the suite is for sale, of course—this is 2025, and brands don’t just create experiences anymore; they curate cartfuls. The bedding, the art, the plates, the outdoor furniture… if you like it, you can probably buy it, monogram it, and ship it home in time for your next garden dinner party. Featured items include the “Clara” mirror (for those post-shower selfies), the “Vela” jute rug (the aesthetic equivalent of a deep exhale), and a smattering of playful wall art featuring sardines, peaches, and shrimps, as if the entire room just came back from a beach market with too many tote bags. The hotel itself—Locke de Santa Joana—isn’t short on talking points either. Housed in a reimagined 17th-century convent, the 370-room destination is part design temple, part cultural playground, with a co-working space, restaurants, music venues, and a courtyard pool that looks genetically engineered for Instagram Stories. Interiors are the work of Spanish design darling Lázaro Rosa-Violán, who has artfully blended ecclesiastical bones with contemporary flair—though you’re unlikely to be thinking too hard about architectural legacy once you’re reclining poolside next to your “Lottie” side table sipping orange wine out of an Anthropologie ‘Icon’ glass. According to Locke brand manager Carla Read, the collaboration with Anthropologie was “instinctive,” which makes sense—both brands speak fluently in the language of aesthetic escapism. “We’re always looking for ways to bring our brand to life beyond the store,” Anthropologie’s Leanne Mascoll added. Translation: experiential retail is in its Lisbon era. So is this the future of travel? A hotel stay where every throw pillow is a potential purchase and your entire holiday becomes one long product demo? Possibly. But if you’re going to be seduced by consumerism, at least let it happen somewhere with a private terrace and a Portuguese seafood dinner set. This summer, Lisbon is selling a dream—and it’s got Anthropologie written all over it.

Wimbledon is more than just a tennis tournament—it’s a cultural moment in London’s summer calendar where fashion, lifestyle, and sport collide in effortless style. Every year, brands bring their A-game with exclusive collections, pop-ups, and limited-edition launches that capture the tournament’s preppy elegance and spirited energy. From vintage-inspired apparel to curated dining experiences, Wimbledon 2025 is shaping up to be a feast for fans who want to see and be seen, on and off the courts. This season, the city’s style set has plenty to get excited about. Whether it’s sport-tech tenniswear with a streetwear twist, sustainable capsules by tennis stars themselves, or alfresco terraces perfect for sipping Pimms between sets, London’s Wimbledon offerings invite everyone to join in the celebration of this iconic event. Here’s a curated guide to the best launches and pop-ups you don’t want to miss. Ralph Lauren Wimbledon 2025 Ralph Lauren has brought its signature preppy elegance to Wimbledon 2025 with a full lifestyle takeover, from a live-screening café pop-up on New Bond Street to an alfresco dining terrace within the tournament grounds. The brand’s flagship store has been wrapped in court-green stripes and transformed into a chic viewing hub, while the Café at Ralph Lauren in Wimbledon’s Southern Village serves up iced lattes, cream teas, and custom-embroidered polos just steps from the action. As the Official Outfitter, Ralph Lauren’s presence this year blurs the lines between sport, fashion, and refined hospitality. Lacoste Djokovic’s Signature Polo & Shorts Let’s be honest: you’re not buying Djokovic’s on-court kit because you plan on replicating his serve. This is about looking like you could. His polo and matching shorts are all clean lines and crisp whites, the fashion equivalent of “I holiday in the south of France and drink espresso at 10pm.” Functional? Sure. But mostly, they're just really good for walking around Notting Hill pretending you own a tennis club. adidas London Originals Collection This drop is what happens when vintage tennis style gets the streetwear edit. Think retro pleated skirts, mesh tank tops, and zippered jackets in Wimbledon’s signature palette—green, white, and nostalgia. There are headbands, too, because someone at adidas understands that Wimbledon is as much about the hair as the hits. Kith x Wilson 2025 Tennis Collection Launching June 20, this is what you wear when you want to look like a tennis pro but feel like a downtown art dealer. The collection includes everything from performance-ready polos to green-and-white cardigans that whisper “Hamptons adjacent.” The rackets are beautiful. The bags are aspirational . The whole thing is lifestyle cosplay, and that’s why we love it. Gucci & Brunello Cucinelli Wimbledon Knit Capsules Last year’s knitwear drops from Gucci and Brunello Cucinelli are still quietly dominating match-day chic. Ivory cardigans with tennis badges, wrap sweaters that say “I’m cold, but curated”—these are layers for the person who would never actually run for cover in a rain delay. Limited editions, yes, but available on resale for those who like their luxury with a bit of a hunt. Elina Svitolina + Svitlana Bevza Capsule Ukrainian tennis royalty meets minimalist fashion in this refreshingly understated collection. Svitolina and Bevza co-designed sleek, sustainable pieces in crisp whites—think reimagined polo dresses and structured vests. Proceeds support her tennis foundation, which makes it officially fashion that gives back while looking better than you . Fred Perry Tennis Heritage Polos Fred Perry continues its slow-burn seduction of the heritage set with 1952-style polos that basically invented Wimbledon aesthetic. The pique fabric and classic fit are eternally flattering, whether you're watching the match or walking to Waitrose pretending you’re late for one. ALIGNE The Rosia Linen Dress If you need a dress that says “I’m only here for the Pimm’s,” the Rosia linen number from ALIGNE is it. The white drop-waist silhouette is unfussy, flattering, and £149—enough to feel considered, not flashy. Also in the capsule: a broderie co-ord and cotton midi skirt, all ready for sun-drenched outfit repeats. Harvie & Hudson Wimbledon Menswear Collection British tailoring gets the tennis memo with Harvie & Hudson’s smart, lightweight menswear drop. From seersucker blazers to polished separates that somehow make sweating seem elegant, it’s the kind of collection where even the casual trousers look like they’ve read Tatler . L’ETO Tennis Ball Dessert Macaron In what may be the most extra Wimbledon dessert of 2025, L’ETO has crafted a tennis ball-shaped ice cream macaron in matcha and vanilla, served with strawberries, naturally. It’s the kind of thing you order “just to try” and then photograph like it’s a guest at the table. Strawberries & Screen Duke of York Square If you're not actually going to Wimbledon, this is the next best thing. Giant outdoor screens, gourmet street food, and the kind of crowd that dresses for the highlight reel. Pimm’s, strawberries, and lots of linen—this is how Chelsea does a public viewing. Great Scotland Yard Hotel Wimbledon Afternoon Tea Because nothing says summer in Britain like a Wimbledon-themed tea served with edible tennis balls. Created in collaboration with Lavazza, the tea includes quiches, truffle sandwiches, and Pimm’s drizzle cake that will make you wonder why you ever bothered with plain scones. CROÍA The Tennis Club Jewellery Capsule Just in time for Wimbledon, Irish label CROÍA launched a jewellery collection that’s basically “tenniscore” in accessory form. Rhinestone huggies, stackable bracelets, tarnish-proof everything—designed to be worn with both tennis whites and Tuesday meetings. Proof that you don’t need to break a sweat to serve a look.

Central Saint Martins has long been the incubator of some of the most daring, boundary-pushing talent in fashion — a place where tradition meets radical creativity and where voices from around the world converge to redefine style. This year’s graduating designers continue that legacy, each weaving their unique stories and cultural identities into collections that challenge norms, spark conversation, and remind us why CSM remains the heartbeat of fashion innovation. Phoebe Bor Phoebe Bor’s untitled collection is a tactile meditation on the South African bush where she grew up, folding feathers, grass, and eucalyptus into wearable tributes to the quiet intelligence of the natural world. Her pieces don’t just evoke nests and furs – they’re constructed through a kind of ecological choreography, where hand-bound mohair and resin-coated leaves become tools of both storytelling and survival. @phoebebor Seoyoun Shin Seoyoun Shin’s collection, “I (still) want to be with you,” transforms memory into graphics, assembling intimate objects from her personal life into wearable visual metaphors. From a pleated skirt shaped like stacked magazines to garments that look like furniture sketches come alive, she turns nostalgia into geometry with quietly arresting results. @seenseo Dieter Vlasich Dieter Vlasich’s deeply personal collection is a decolonial dialogue, created in collaboration with Mayan women artisans in Mexico and grown—literally—from seed. With natural dyes, geometric silhouettes, and slow storytelling techniques, his work challenges Western timelines and invites a more ancestral, relational way of dressing. @dietervlasich Hannah Dixey Hannah Dixey’s “ALL I WANT IS A MORTGAGE” is as much about yearning for stability as it is about childhood make-believe, turning her rented flat and vintage trinkets into a stage for oversized doll clothes with emotional heft. Think laser-cut pony buttons, felted nostalgia, and prints lifted straight from the lived-in chaos of adulthood. @hannahdixey Hannah Smith Hannah Smith’s “The Gentle Frame” is a romantic, radical reframing of disability in fashion – a tribute to the elegance of difference and the poetics of the body. Wrought-iron gates become sheer embroidery, medical aids are reimagined as couture accessories, and vulnerability is rendered in fringe-cut leather and organza. @hannahsmi.h Haseeb Hassan Haseeb Hassan’s “Fragmented Threads” is a cultural remix rooted in diasporic tension, where Madame Grès meets the streets of Lahore and London in a masterful negotiation of belonging. His patchworked cottons, laser-engraved leathers, and sharp tailoring reframe tradition with both reverence and rebellion. @haseeb.hassan__ Isaac Lizarraga Curiel Isaac Lizarraga Curiel’s “Tails!” is fashion seen through a dog’s dreamy filter – a kind of pet couture for people who want to dress like joy feels. With zero-waste techniques and materials like shredded bedsheets and fringe yarns, he gives us a collection that’s equal parts historical pageant, theatre kid, and four-legged fantasy. @isaac.lizarraga Jada Tudor Jada’s collection, Bidrohinī (The Rebel) , explores her dual British-Bengali identity through the history and culture of the hijra community, blending colonial and South Asian influences. She uses metal, reclaimed materials, and symbolic motifs to reflect themes of visibility, erasure, and reclamation. @jadaatudor Minjoo Jade Kim Minjoo’s We Wear What We Wear addresses fashion conformity and labor ethics in South Korea’s garment industry, focusing on the human cost behind mass production. She works with transparent fabrics and innovative pattern cutting to express both repetition and individuality. @ifitmeansyou Joe Fearon Joe’s Nowt So Queer as Folk collection channels British folklore through a queer lens, combining ritualistic imagery with fetish culture and folk horror influences. Using a mix of traditional and unconventional materials, the collection creates a tension between the eerie and celebratory. @jxefearon Linus Stueben Linus’s CRUMBLING UNDER PRESSURE captures the overwhelming stress of modern life with humor and absurdity, symbolized through tactile wool garments and unconventional materials like metal hair clips. The collection reflects the tension between constraint and freedom. @linusstueben Luke Hemingway Luke’s Dream Ceremony explores Northern subculture and nostalgia through garments made with friends and local artisans, blending performance and regional identity. His use of deadstock fabrics and collaborations roots the collection in community and storytelling. @lukehemingway_ Marie Schulze Marie’s collection reflects her experience observing powerful women in German politics, reinterpreting masculine tailoring with feminine fabrics to create a quiet assertion of female dominance. She uses satin, silk, and pattern manipulation to challenge formalwear archetypes. @mariesssschulze Myah Hasbany Myah’s Aurora, Texas imagines a town transformed by a UFO cover-up, blending 1950s Americana with otherworldly, off-kilter designs. The collection celebrates body diversity with detailed hand embroidery and textile manipulation, offering glamour to underrepresented sizes. @myahhasbany Rose Seekings Rose’s collection captures the joy and fragility of British seaside holidays through sculptural knitwear inspired by kites. She experiments with wire, paper, and partial knitting to create collapsible, textured silhouettes that float between garment and installation. @roseseekiings Yuura Asano Yuura Asano explores the fragile threshold of adolescence where girlhood begins to shift toward womanhood, drawing on historical feminine silhouettes filtered through youthful imagination. Using natural fibers and expressive screen-printed marks, the collection reimagines traditional womenswear through a lens of innocence and hope. @yuura.a Andy Pomarico Andy Pomarico channels their experience as an autistic, queer outsider into a rebellious, maximalist collection that embraces discomfort and celebrates what doesn’t fit in. Combining secondhand materials into sculptural, oversized forms, the work is both chaotic and performative, challenging traditional fashion norms. @andy.pomarico Ayham Hassan Musleh Ayham Hassan Musleh confronts the harsh realities of Palestinian occupation through a collection rooted in ancestral craft and resistance. Using traditional textiles and innovative techniques, the collection honors cultural identity and embodies hope amid struggle. @ayham_hassan_99 Daisy Knight Daisy Knight draws inspiration from her mother’s strength in a small-town salon to celebrate women in STEM through textured, hand-knit garments that capture femininity and movement. The collection uses innovative knitwear techniques to embody fluidity, power, and self-expression. @Daisyannaknight HongJi Yan HongJi Yan reflects on the paradox of gig workers’ hyper-visibility and social invisibility through layered, translucent materials and digital camouflage. The collection uses reflective and fluorescent elements to highlight the tension between presence and erasure in modern urban life. @hongji_yan__ Isobel Dickens Isobel Dickens channels nostalgia and memory from her coastal childhood into tactile garments made from pipecleaners and cardboard prints. Her work explores absence and connection through handcrafted textures evoking impermanence and personal history. @_isobeldickens Lucas Louis Lidy Lucas Louis Lidy reimagines rural queer identity by blending agricultural heritage with refined silhouettes, challenging urban-centric LGBTQIA+ narratives. His use of natural fibres and traditional patterns creates a tactile manifesto celebrating rural queer life. @3l_lidy Megan Alloh Megan Alloh explores the hybridity of British-Ghanaian identity through materials like fish skin leather and sublimation prints that reflect cultural exchange and postcolonial complexity. The collection reinterprets traditional motifs to examine belonging and diasporic beauty. @mallohalloh Ming Lim Ming Lim uses clothing as a metaphor for layered memories, inspired by the emotional weight of sentimental garments passed through generations. Her collection captures the idea of life’s many layers through delicate, textured pieces that evoke both fragility and resilience. @ming__lim Poppy Sendell Inspired by the tender and tumultuous awakening of Constance Chatterley in Lady Chatterley’s Lover , this collection channels the delicate bloom of desire through floral paper constructions that rustle with life. Poppy’s use of UV-printed Japanese Kozo and crepe paper layered with organza blurs the line between fragility and strength, echoing spring’s natural sensuality. @POPPYSENDELL Zainab Mansary Zainab’s collection unpacks the layered complexities of Black masculinity and migration through repurposed streetwear, weaving together her family’s journey from Sierra Leone to London with rich, symbolic prints. The garments challenge rigid streetwear forms, blending postcolonial history and movement studies into a deeply personal narrative of identity and belonging. @Zainabxmansary Antonio Femia Rooted in the mysterious forest surrounding his home, Antonio’s collection evolves from natural creatures to whimsical, fantastical beings, brought to life through vintage fabrics and intricate embroidery. His commitment to sustainability shines through the use of secondhand materials sourced from Belgium’s vibrant charity shops. @primordialbr0th She Carmona She’s channelled her return to the Philippines into a collection that ‘un-uniforms’ the uniform, shredding materials to explore diasporic identity with a palette drawn from medical blues and weathered rice bags. Collaborating with a UK sailing company, She marries technical fabrics with heartfelt storytelling about home and migration. @she.carmona Yuze Li Yuze’s visionary collection imagines human heroes leading us through an uncertain future, blending traditional crafts like crochet and Tibetan pottery with recycled materials in a metallic palette of gold, silver, black, and white. His work rejects a cold, tech-driven future, instead layering memory and imperfection into a poetic narrative of resilience. @revlix4 Mason Tomsett Mason’s collection transforms queer masculinity through playful reinventions of menswear, mixing satin with tartan-inspired pleated jersey and ornate ruffs inspired by Mary Queen of Scots. Sustainability meets camp in his DIY biodegradable silicone pieces, turning shame into power with irreverent humour and style. @masondtomsett Joshua Cornwell Joshua’s queer retelling of Essex teenage aesthetics fuses glossy gold sequins and leopard print with hand-painted textures, embodying the awkwardness and longing of youth caught between fantasy and reality. The collection provocatively contrasts synthetic glamour with rough craftsmanship, reflecting the contradictions of belonging. @joshuwacornwell Doyeon Jeong Inspired by her grandmother’s silenced past and her own journey to self-expression, Doyeon’s collection channels the beauty of floral origami and crisp organza to evoke freedom and strength. This deeply personal work translates the delicate art of flower arranging into garments that feel light, sculptural, and full of quiet joy. @myotosisyeon Sam Fisher A love letter to Northern Soul nights and dance as a space of freedom, Sam’s collection captures movement through fabrics that float, sculpt, and freeze in time with wax and plaster finishes. The nostalgic, chalk-dusted textures ground the collection in memory while celebrating the physical and emotional liberation of dance. @_s.fisher Sara Mikorey Sara’s collection confronts the contradictions of girlhood and the fierce validity of anger and vulnerability alike, carving out space for unapologetic emotion and defiance. It’s a raw, tactile exploration of the tension between disguise and truth, inviting a new understanding of strength through complexity. @serroit

There are two kinds of designers in fashion: the ones who chase relevance, and the ones who let relevance chase them. Martine Rose is firmly in the latter category. The British Fashion Council recently delivered the final blow to London Fashion Week June, a decision that might have surprised the few still paying attention but shocked no one watching the runway calendar hollow out year by year. London Collections: Men—once the stomping ground for emerging talent and late-night debauchery—has officially been folded into the Council’s Paris showroom program. And then, right on cue, came Martine Rose with something far juicier: her first London runway show in two years. But, in typical Rose fashion, it wasn’t just a show. It was a scene. Held in a disused job centre in Marylebone—the kind of brutalist relic that still clings to bureaucratic ghosts—the event sprawled across two floors. Downstairs: a weekend-long market featuring indie designers, zine publishers, record collectors, vintage sellers and the kinds of vendors who actually make London interesting. Upstairs: the catwalk, reimagined as a ’70s beauty salon, draped in satin and swagger. No velvet ropes, no security-coded iPads. Just a crowd that ranged from Condé Nast editors to curious locals, all sweltering together on the hottest day of the year. That ethos came through in the casting (entirely street-cast), the music (a dizzying mix of DJ Choci Roc, Fela Kuti, and Roy Ayers), and the clothing—of course. The show opened with a model in a voluminous black wig and an all-black outfit so tightly cinched it looked like it might whisper if you leaned in close enough. Sexy, yes—but not in the way Instagram wants it. Rose’s vision of sexiness veers toward the unglamorous and the lived-in. Undergarments became outerwear. Technical outerwear came spliced with slinky skirts. Football shirts were rebranded with the designer’s signature logos, while barbershop capes became actual garments. One model wore what looked like a café apron as if it were Margiela-era couture. The whole thing felt half-dystopia, half-off-license romance. There were thigh-skimming shorts worn with tall socks, shrunken leather jackets that hugged like second skins, and tracksuits layered under baseball cap hoods. New iterations of Rose’s coveted Nike Shox MR4s were seen alongside kitten heels and mule-loafers—shoes that looked like they belonged to your older cousin who was always cooler than you. And yet, for all the experimentation, there was a warmth to the collection. The kind of charm that comes when a designer stops performing for the fashion world and starts playing with it. The models flirted with the crowd. They posed. They smirked. “People are charming, aren’t they?” Rose asked backstage. What made the whole affair so sticky—so undeniably London —was that it didn’t feel like a comeback. It felt like an inevitability. In a fashion capital that has long struggled with identity and infrastructure, Martine Rose managed to create a moment. A real one. Not for TikTok. Not for the calendar. But for the city. And if this was, as Rose calls it, a homecoming, then it wasn’t just hers. It was a reminder of what London fashion can be when it doesn’t try to be Paris or Milan or New York. It can be messy. It can be hot and awkward and charming and overstuffed. It can feel, somehow, like something you want to be part of again.