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.

Formula 1 has always known how to sell a fantasy: elite performance, aerodynamic beauty, and a dizzying trail of champagne flutes clinking along the French Riviera. But somewhere between the lights going out and the checkered flag waving, F1 underwent an aesthetic shift—transforming from petrol-fuelled sport to style-saturated spectacle. In an era where fashion houses are grappling with shrinking margins, overproduction scandals, and a cooling post-COVID luxury boom, Formula 1 has become an unexpected lifeline for the industry. Because what better way to reach the next generation of luxury consumers than by harnessing the global reach of a sport that is suddenly hotter than the front row at Balenciaga? This wasn’t just about a few gridwalk appearances or a branded cap on a celebrity. The Formula 1 paddock has become the new Paris runway. Lewis Hamilton didn’t simply attend Fashion Week; he rewrote the rulebook, walking both metaphorically and literally into fashion’s inner circle. What started with Tommy Hilfiger collabs and Virgil Abloh-designed paddock looks has ballooned into a full-speed culture takeover—where labels like Louis Vuitton, Reiss, Boss, and Chanel aren’t just dressing drivers, they’re placing long-term bets on motorsport’s rising cultural capital. And in the process, they’ve made F1 more fashionable than ever. 1. Louis Vuitton: From Trophy Trunks to Trackside Domination Louis Vuitton doesn’t just make bags anymore—it makes cultural moments. The maison’s initial foray into F1 via trophy trunks for Monaco was charming, heritage-laced branding. But in 2025, Vuitton dropped the throttle with a ten-year sponsorship deal that puts its name not just near the podium but in the race title itself: the Formula 1 Louis Vuitton Australian Grand Prix . This isn't side-hustle brand awareness. It's title-card dominance. The strategy? Occupy both the literal and symbolic front seat in motorsport’s most glamourous venues—from the grid to the club to the cruise collection. But Vuitton’s fashion integration isn’t just about banners and backdrops. Pharrell’s SS24 runway looks—worn by Hamilton and Gasly alike—blurred the line between racing uniform and street couture. The brand's trophy trunks have become objets d’art, Instagram catnip for Gen Z fans and yacht-dwellers alike. In a cooling luxury market, Louis Vuitton is banking on the turbo-charged fandom of F1 to keep their monogram flying high. 2. Tommy Hilfiger and Mercedes-AMG: The Original Gridwalk Style Pioneers Tommy Hilfiger was in the pit lane before it was cool. The American heritage brand’s longstanding relationship with Mercedes-AMG Petronas has aged like a very well-tailored varsity jacket. Lewis Hamilton’s early collaborations with Hilfiger signalled what was to come: capsule drops with real fashion credibility, gender-inclusive silhouettes, and storytelling rooted in performance and purpose. The latest APXGP campaign—featuring Damson Idris, star of the upcoming Brad Pitt F1 film—feels less like sports marketing and more like a high-concept cinematic lookbook. And the smartest pivot? Women. Hilfiger is acutely aware that the fastest-growing fan demographic in F1 is female—and their purchasing power is reshaping merch, marketing, and brand positioning. From partnering with Awake NY to backing F1 Academy's female racers, Hilfiger has positioned itself at the precise intersection of cultural relevance, progressive branding, and luxury resale appeal. It’s not just collaboration; it’s conversion. 3. Reiss x McLaren: Merch, but Make it Fashion Reiss, traditionally the go-to for British workwear polish, leaned into F1 fashion with its McLaren partnership—originally rooted in logo-heavy teamwear but now entirely reimagined through the Hype Collection. Think leather varsity jackets, silky co-ords, and unisex silhouettes tailored to a social-first, style-driven audience. According to Reiss, the shift wasn’t accidental—it was a response to the way women were already hacking their fandom, customising men’s team kits for a more fashionable fit. The result? Reiss’ fastest-selling McLaren drop to date. Unlike traditional merch, these pieces don’t scream sports fan —they whisper trend insider . And with McLaren’s rising female fanbase, it’s proof that when you stop treating merch as an afterthought and start treating it like fashion, the fashion crowd responds. 4. Ferrari: High-Octane Heritage Meets High Fashion Ferrari has long been a symbol of Italian luxury, but in 2021, it made a sartorial pivot with its first in-house fashion line—and by 2023, it secured a runway slot at Milan Fashion Week. Creative director Rocco Iannone isn’t interested in logo merch. He’s pitching Ferrari as a lifestyle brand for the kind of woman who might alternate between Bottega and Balmain—but still wants to wear a team blazer to Monza. Recent moments include dressing Alicia Keys in a tailored Ferrari suit, inviting Rihanna into the paddock, and styling Naomi Campbell in campaign shoots that look like Vogue Italia editorials. The message is clear: Ferrari is done being a car brand with merch. It wants to be a fashion brand with horsepower. 5. Chanel: The Monaco Moment When Chanel’s 2023 Cruise Collection debuted with racetrack motifs, racing stripes, and pastel-hued helmets stamped with No. 5, it was less of a gimmick and more of a vibe check. Set in Monaco, the collection tapped into the historical romance of motorsport’s most stylish location—and offered the clearest signal yet that even the most tradition-bound fashion houses are craving a little velocity. The collection may not have been a commercial bestseller, but it cemented Formula 1 as a valid style muse. Marine Serre and Y/Project may offer edgier takes—like reconstituted race suits and optical-illusion pit stop gowns—but Chanel brought glamour back to the grid. 6. Boss x Aston Martin: A Masculine Heritage Brand Goes Co-Ed Once tethered to Hackett’s very British, very male sensibility, Aston Martin made a switch to Boss—and with it, embraced a wardrobe strategy that includes womenswear. For Boss, it’s a savvy rebrand: ditching the ‘boardroom man’ aesthetic for something closer to Zendaya-meets-Zandvoort. From tailored co-ords to retro sunglasses, the brand is now kitting out team principals, drivers, and guests in pieces that belong on fashion moodboards. Aston Martin’s new aesthetic is softer, younger, more feminine—not unlike its brand ambassador Jessica Hawkins, a former stunt driver and F1 Academy mentor. And yes, there’s still plenty of green. 7. Beauty and the Grid: Charlotte Tilbury, Puma, and the Power of Women Beauty and fashion often move in tandem, and Charlotte Tilbury knows that better than most. Her brand’s investment in F1 Academy—sponsoring all-female races and mentoring emerging talent—is both philanthropic and profitable. With women now making up 40% of F1’s fanbase, there’s a massive commercial incentive to back female visibility in the sport. Puma’s racing boots, too, are no longer just track kit—they’re part of capsule collections worn by influencers and reposted endlessly on TikTok. As Ali Donnelly of More Than Equal explains: “Brands who invest in women see ROI not just in dollars, but in cultural loyalty.” 8. Tag Heuer x Oracle Red Bull Racing: Timing Is Everything In the world of F1, precision isn’t just a performance metric—it’s a brand strategy. Enter Tag Heuer, whose long-standing partnership with Oracle Red Bull Racing fuses Swiss horological mastery with the adrenaline of the track. These aren’t just timepieces; they’re wearable trophies, from the skeleton-dial Carrera Chronographs to the limited-edition Monaco watches that nod to both Verstappen’s dominance and vintage pit lane cool. By aligning with the sport’s most dominant team, Tag Heuer has secured more than just logo placement—it’s embedded itself into the rhythm of race day, the style language of the paddock, and the wristwear wishlists of fans worldwide. Because in F1, timing is everything. Final Lap Formula 1 isn’t the new red carpet. It’s the new fashion week . And as the sport’s demographics shift—skewing younger, more diverse, and increasingly female—luxury fashion houses aren’t just watching from the sidelines. They’re building wardrobes, campaigns, and cultural clout from the paddock up. In a time when the traditional markers of fashion relevance are faltering, Formula 1 offers the ultimate runway: global, glamorous, and moving at 200 miles per hour. Because in 2025, it’s not enough to walk the walk. You have to race it.

If you've ever fantasised about disappearing to Sicily—where the mornings smell of lemon groves and the afternoons feel like golden honey—N.Peal’s Spring/Summer 2025 collection might just be your sartorial passport. It’s all Mediterranean daydreams, but grounded in British legacy—an exquisite balance only a house founded in 1936 could manage. The collection, inspired by Sicily’s architectural poetry and elemental light, feels like it was made for the kind of summer where you lose track of days. Think: barefoot mornings in Scopello, aperitivo hours in Palermo, and linen-draped strolls through the stone alleyways of Castellammare del Golfo. There’s a cinematic softness to it all, captured vividly in the campaign imagery. One model—draped in an ivory cashmere set, a whisper of a knit wrapped like a shawl—glides down a narrow, sun-splashed street. She doesn’t walk. She floats. Another wears a buttoned-down maxi dress in a rich blue medallion print, the silhouette modest but magnetic—something you’d imagine a modern-day Claudia Cardinale wearing to a family lunch in Taormina. And then there’s the men’s look: cashmere layered beneath a navy gilet, paired with white trousers, refined but not precious. It’s resortwear for men who know the difference between sprezzatura and sloppiness. N.Peal has always been a quiet force in British fashion. Its flagship store in Burlington Arcade remains a discreet haunt for those who understand the enduring appeal of cashmere. It’s the brand Marilyn Monroe turned to for warmth, Audrey Hepburn for elegance, and Daniel Craig’s Bond for subtle masculinity. But while its roots are undeniably British, this collection is sun-kissed with Sicilian flair—without ever sacrificing polish. The fabrics are hero pieces in their own right. Knitted linen with delicate ribbing and sequins captures the breeze; cotton-cashmere blends feel almost too light to be legal. Even the prints—like the tilework-inspired motif on that medallion dress—are never loud. They hum, softly. “We designed this collection for beautiful, slow summers,” explains Adam Holdsworth, Creative Director at N.Peal. “Sicily’s textures, its contrast of history and leisure, really allowed us to explore what summer dressing means when you prioritise ease and elegance.” The result is wardrobe poetry. It’s a collection for those who travel with hardback books, who prefer Carrara marble to clashing tiles, and who understand that luxury doesn’t have to shout. It just needs to be felt—like silk brushing skin or the sun hitting limestone at 5pm. This season, N.Peal invites you to dress like you’ve always lived in a villa, even if your reality is a two-bed in Notting Hill. And honestly? That’s the kind of escapism we all deserve.

Held in the tiled playground of Antoni Gaudí’s most whimsical architecture, Nicolas Ghesquière delivered a collection that felt like a full-colour dream—bold, esoteric, and oddly soulful. The setting alone, with its surreal mosaics and undulating stonework, created a kind of psychedelic optimism. Add to that a front row glittering with brand muses like Sophie Turner, Ana de Armas, and Saoirse Ronan, and you had the makings of a Cruise spectacle engineered for myth-making. The Fashion: Escapism with Edge If Cruise is traditionally about wanderlust, Ghesquière took that literally—and metaphysically. The first look—a structured silver tunic with exaggerated shoulders and iridescent leggings—signalled his signature futurism. But what followed was more playful than austere. Billowing metallic parachute dresses floated past stone lizards and tourists craning for iPhone shots. Sequin embroidery mimicked Gaudí’s mosaics; architectural draping nodded to the curving forms of Catalan Modernisme. Models looked less like travellers and more like galactic princesses on layover. There was also romance. One standout: a translucent organza blouse tucked into high-waisted cargo trousers in deep rust, cinched by a sculptural belt that resembled oxidised iron. You could picture it on someone like Zendaya in a moody fashion campaign—half warrior, half siren. The Set: Gaudí as Muse Ghesquière is no stranger to an extravagant location—he’s shown at the Salk Institute, the Miho Museum, and the Isola Bella—but Park Güell might be his most conceptually synergistic venue yet. The echoes between Gaudí’s organic forms and Ghesquière’s cyber-romanticism were everywhere. Staging the show here wasn’t just aesthetic; it was almost philosophical. Both designer and architect embrace the surreal, the baroque, and the boundary-pushing. And let’s be honest: it photographs like a dream. Every angle was Instagram-ready, from the serpent benches to the surreal tiled dragon fountain. In the age of luxury content, location isn’t just context—it’s currency. The Mood: Theatrical, But Not Cold What separates Ghesquière from other futurists is warmth. Even when the silhouettes are sharp, the mood isn’t alienating. There’s drama, but also whimsy. A jacket with jetpack-shaped sleeves might be worn with an embroidered tulle skirt. A breastplate could be softened with chiffon. That friction—the technical and the tender, the historic and the speculative—is what makes Vuitton’s Cruise collections so compelling. You never quite know what world you’re in, only that you want to go. Final Thought Louis Vuitton Cruise 2026 didn’t offer ease or accessibility. It wasn’t trying to be “quiet luxury.” Instead, it gave us an opulent detour from reality. In an industry increasingly obsessed with restraint, Ghesquière gave us fantasy, craft, and a little architectural delirium. Not everyone will get it. That’s the point.

In fashion, few announcements feel like a collective exhale. But today’s news—Pierpaolo Piccioli taking over as Creative Director at Balenciaga—was met with exactly that. The Italian designer, known for his romanticism, color mastery, and deep respect for couture, will step into the role on July 10, following Demna’s headline-making departure for Gucci. The timing? Impeccable. The reaction? A mixture of cautious curiosity and industry-wide relief. Let’s be honest—this isn’t just a new chapter for Balenciaga. It’s a genre shift. Piccioli, who spent 16 years shaping Valentino into a red carpet and editorial darling (remember that PP Pink moment?), isn’t the type to play into chaos for clicks. He’s not posting meme campaigns or wrapping models in caution tape. He doesn’t need to. His runway shows were often emotional, intimate affairs. They didn’t shout; they sang. And while Balenciaga under Demna has been praised for its subversion and social commentary, it’s hard not to see Piccioli’s appointment as a pivot toward softness, towards couture purity, and—let’s say it—towards healing. But the question hanging in the air is: will the streetwear crowd come along for the ride? Let’s remember: this is Balenciaga, a house that began with Cristóbal's radical silhouettes and architectural tailoring. It’s fashion built on rigour. And under Demna’s direction, that foundation was exploded—literally. Hoodies, sock sneakers, and meme-fied runway shows turned the label into a Gen Z powerhouse. But Piccioli isn’t known for hoodies. He’s known for gowns. Ones that float, billow, and, yes, sometimes carry the weight of poetry. That contrast isn’t necessarily a problem—it’s a strategy. “Balenciaga is what it is today thanks to all the people who have paved the way,” Piccioli said in a statement released Monday morning. “What I am receiving is a brand full of possibilities that is incredibly fascinating… This gives me the chance to shape a new version of the maison, adding another chapter with a new story.” If Demna’s chapter was about deconstruction, Piccioli’s might be about reconstruction. Kering’s Deputy CEO Francesca Bellettini called him “one of the most talented and celebrated designers of today,” and she’s not wrong. He’s a natural storyteller—his collections at Valentino often read like love letters to humanity. In taking the helm at Balenciaga, he inherits not just a brand, but a battleground of ideas. Couture versus commercialism. Intellect versus irony. Romance versus rebellion. So what does this mean for the loyal Balenciaga customer—the one who queued up for Triple S sneakers and bought irony-laced merch with a wink? They may follow Demna to Gucci, just as many of Alessandro Michele’s fans followed him to Valentino. But here’s the thing about great designers: they don’t just inherit audiences—they create new ones. And Piccioli? He knows how to cultivate a following. Zendaya, Suga, Florence Pugh—he’s dressed them all, with emotion and clarity. He understands what it means to speak to culture through couture, not despite it. His debut collection will arrive this October during Paris Fashion Week, just one day after Demna’s final haute couture outing for Balenciaga. Talk about symbolic timing. It’s a handing over of the keys—and perhaps, of tone. Whether Piccioli will keep the exaggerated silhouettes, the streetwear DNA, or the shock factor that’s defined the brand’s recent era remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: he doesn’t need gimmicks. He has grace. And in today’s fashion climate, that might just be the biggest disruption of all.

Diane Kruger in Dolce & Gabbana Lights, camera, couture . The 78th annual Cannes Film Festival is underway, and if you thought this was just about cinema, you clearly haven’t been paying attention. Each May, the French Riviera becomes less about film and more about fabric, with a red carpet that functions as fashion’s most glamorous battleground. For the next two weeks, celebrities, stylists, and luxury maisons will engage in a delicate dance of statement-making and silhouette-spinning, all under the Mediterranean sun. The opening ceremony on May 12th saw Robert De Niro receive an honorary Palme d’Or from Leonardo DiCaprio—a wholesome, if slightly predictable, moment of Hollywood reverence. But the real scene-stealers were below the stage: Julia Garner in metallic sculptural Lanvin, Eva Longoria giving textbook Cannes in a liquid silk column, and Bella Hadid, who appears contractually obligated to show up in something sheer, backless, or both. Jennifer Lawrence wearing Dior Haute Couture This year’s jury, which includes Halle Berry, Juliette Binoche, Jeremy Strong, and Leïla Slimani, will be judging more than just the competition films—they’ll also be supplying some of the festival’s most dissected red carpet moments. You can expect Berry to lean into bombshell glamour, Binoche to give French intellectual in black sequins, and Strong to wear something that somehow reads as both awkward and deeply expensive. Cannes has always been a place where fashion has to mean something. It's not the Met Gala, where irony is allowed. It’s not the Oscars, where brand deals scream louder than silhouettes. Cannes is its own category: formality with a dash of defiance. Yes, the official dress code still insists on tuxedos, evening gowns, and elegant shoes—“no sneakers” reads the guidance with the rigidity of a Catholic school handbook—but Cannes wouldn’t be Cannes without the occasional ankle boot or rebellious red lip. Alessandra Ambrosio wearing Zuhair Murad Couture This year, the festival’s competition slate is packed with headline-grabbing projects: Amélie Bonnin’s Partir un Jour opened the festival with feather-light French charm, while the world premiere of Mission: Impossible—The Final Reckoning reminded everyone that yes, Tom Cruise still does his own stunts, and yes, he still wears sunglasses at night. Later in the week, Wes Anderson’s latest pastel fever dream, The Phoenician Scheme , will debut—complete with a breakout performance by Mia Threapleton (daughter of Kate Winslet, if you must know), alongside Michael Cera and Benicio Del Toro. Spike Lee’s Highest 2 Lowest , starring Denzel Washington as a troubled music mogul, is expected to be a highlight. And The History of Sound , with Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor, is already generating hushed awards chatter—and louder fashion buzz. But let’s be honest: this is Cannes. The narrative arc we’re really following involves which designer Bella will wear next, whether anyone will go full Old Hollywood with opera gloves, and who will attempt to smuggle sneakers past security. The Croisette isn’t just a promenade; it’s a runway. And the Grand Théâtre Lumière isn’t just a screening venue—it’s the set of fashion’s most high-stakes red carpet theatre. So say bonjour to drama, décolletage, and diamonds. This is Cannes. Angelina Jolie wearing Brunello Cucinelli (L), Heidi Klum in Elie Saab (R) Angelina Jolie wearing Tom Ford (L), Wan QianHui in Wang Feng Couture (R) Charli XCX in Saint Laurent (L), Halle Berry wearing Gaurav Gupta Couture (R) Lucien Laviscount wearing Dolce & Gabbana (L), Bella Hadid in Saint Laurent (R) Eva Longoria in Tamara Ralph (L), Irina Shayk wearing Elie Saab Haute Couture (R) A$AP Rocky in Saint Laurent (L), Natalie Portman wearing Dior Haute Couture (R) Karolína Kurková (L), Julianne Moore wearing Bottega Veneta (R) Isabelle Huppert in Balenciaga (L), Halle Berry in Gucci (R) Alex Consani wearing Schiaparelli Haute Couture (L), Alton Mason (R)