Couture Blossoms January 2026

Before discussing the individual shows, I would like to talk about two things which this season of couture has shown as directions. Firstly, I want to talk about a theme of fragility, not of prettiness, although that is there, but of a certain attitude to life which balances narratives with concerns of our world: the climate, the disorder of the world, and the imbalance of the day-to-day existence of each of us. In some ways, this is reflected in a revival of deconstruction and the scissored or raw edge, the removal of the stuffing of clothes, transparency and lightness, and a languor of seduction rather than rock-chick sexy. Colour was either very muted white was often used as a “colour”, or intense and saturated. The romance of the clothes was somehow jumbled and off-kilter.

Peet Dullaert especially distilled this for me in one piece: an icy white tailored jacket that unfolded onto apricot blush taffeta, with a petal of fabric encircling the waist, thus forming a coat dress. The fragile, barely tinted colours at Georges Hobeika, Rami Al Ali and Zuhair Murad encompassed, for example, pearly beige, pale sage green, or wheat. At Schiaparelli, there was a flush of colour, with a white sheer shirt having a translucent blue collar and a flower-decorated top having a blush aureola of colour. The mushrooms at Chanel are obviously part of this story. It’s a theme that offers a vast array of interpretations, so I will return to this often. Oh, and of course flowers and flower influences, from Dior as decoration at many shows, as a colour and shape source.

How designers show was the second theme, from Valentino and his peep show, Robert Wun and his weather-backed show with storm clouds and lightning, Ronald van der Kemp shot his collection live in front of his audience, a tribute to Blow-Up by Antonioni. Imane Ayissi dressed his models in front of our very eyes and Viktor and Rolf built a living kite. Alexis Mabille embraced AI and technology to create a virtual show. It’s extraordinary that the classic catwalk has threaded its way in and out of recent decades. Jean-Paul Gaultier in the past, and many other innovative designers, have tried variations, and obviously Lagerfeld at Chanel launched rockets, took his clients to the supermarket, and created Rococo gardens for the audience to sit and watch the collection parade past. It’s exciting to attend a show and be surprised by how they show us the collection.

During the week I saw high jewellery, Dior collected by Mouna Al Ayoub, Azzedine Alaïa and Christian Dior at the Fondation Azzedine Alaïa, Balenciaga once owned by Doris Brynner, alongside talking to Hana Besovic of @ideservecouture and Lyas of @lawatchparty, and many others, about what we were seeing, looking forward to, or how we thought the week was going.

Introducing couture week for me was Patou prêt-à-porter, designed by Guillaume Henry. This house has a brilliant heritage, both through the clothes of its founder and through subsequent designers such as Karl Lagerfeld and, most famously perhaps, Christian Lacroix. Monsieur Henry is a worthy successor, simply using the past to infuse the future. This season there was a great contrast between a city garçon and a flirty jeune fille. The pieces mixed a certain practicality with glamour, which was perhaps epitomised by a lace siren swishing trained skirt worn with a neat white shirt, and a cropped taffeta blouson.

Schiaparelli designer Daniel Roseberry knows exactly how to push the workrooms to extremes, but he works with them, as can be seen in his drawings, fittings, and work at the atelier. The influence of birds and beasts, both real and mythical, was not only seen in horns and tusks, but in feathers and wings. The collection offered clients trousers and ballgowns, delicate tendrils of flowers or huge bouffant tulle gowns. It was natural and unnatural, with flora and fauna transformed into unbelievable embroideries and embellishments. It might be summed up by saying it had couture splendour by mixing real clothes in a laboratory of fantasy.

Georges Hobeika and his son Jad showed an exquisitely controlled collection of beautiful clothes. The entire opening sequence was of slender pieces in tinted shades of white. Tucked, tiered, spangled, quivering, trailing, and shimmering, they were couture works of art, but they whispered and never shouted. Pale lilac came later, as did a series of crushed fruit shades like loganberry, raspberry, or pomegranate. The collection seems to represent the dreams of a court, or legendary castle occupants of ethereal beauty.

Dior by Jonathan Anderson mixed some sculptural shapes with many refined and restrained pieces. The use of black, and black and white, focused the heart of the collection: suits, trousers, blouses, knitwear, and both flou and tailoring were balanced in a collection offering options to a global clientele of huge diversity. A black velvet dress with white satin “flowers,” a dress with cascades of white petals with the finest black stamens punctuating them, or swirls of drapery like petals all referenced Monsieur Dior and his love for gardens, but in an immensely underplayed manner.

Rahul Mishra investigated the earth and the heart of our planet. The ice and winds of the tundra, the ebb and flow of the sea, the heart and fire of a volcano were all inspirations taken into embroideries, extended silhouettes, and complex work on the surfaces of the pieces. The workrooms in India seem capable of realising the designer’s concepts with extraordinary dexterity. Sheer fabrics stretched over fragile constructions evoke glittering waves, sharp icicles, or exploding flames, even the sparks of a volcanic lava flow. The intelligence of the designer’s mind leads to thought-provoking statements with his couture work.

Imane Ayissi was unwell with a bad back, so the collection was shown “live,” taking each piece from a rail and popping it onto a series of models. It revealed not only the construction and form of each piece, but also the elegance of how each individual might wear the clothes. As each model dressed, the shoulder might be red-taped, the skirt rigged to sit perfectly on the hips, a swathe of fabric might be shown as a wrap skirt but could easily become a vast stole, and the combinations of tops and skirts might be shown one way but the couture customer could easily mix and match to suit herself. It was a small collection but the most perfect distillation of Imane Ayissi’s signature pieces. The acid green taffeta with raffia fringes and the black taffeta gown exemplified his skill at grandeur with a relaxed edge.

Chanel introduced Matthieu Blazy and his couture viewpoint for the first time. It was all about the work, the kind of skills found at Lesage and the other ateliers owned by Chanel. The fragility of the construction and the delicacy have to be seen in close-up. It somehow exemplified couture and Chanel, but also avoided the heaviness of old-fashioned tweed suiting or over-elaborate decoration. A breath of fresh air meant braid made of tiny silk ruffles, hems weighted by tiny pearls, or a skirt made in layers of silk mousseline. The prettiness was never cloying or oversweet, and the reduction in the number of full-length grand gowns was also much more modern. It felt as if the house had been reawakened, exactly like Sleeping Beauty.

Gaurav Gupta showed a collection which moved many of his signature elements forward. The undulating waves he has made his own featured, but in new guises, once simply as the peplum on a beautiful scarlet tulle ballgown. There was much abstract embroidery and threadwork, including the bodice of this gown, and also as a mesh holding two models side by side, one in white, one in red. They felt like the tendrils of plants, or the natural weaving of stems and twigs as they grow towards the light. Complex, yet never fussy or overworked, the beauty of each piece requires focus. The two saffron robes, for example, had one fluid, entirely covering the body and flowing, whilst the other was draped around the figure, cut across to reveal the legs and had a slight sari-like asymmetric drape.

Stéphane Rolland took the theme of the circus, the clown and the Pierrot, and showed in the Cirque d’Hiver. Yet the references were subtle and calm: huge petal-like folds hinted at ruffles, the sweep of a gown suggested a tightrope walker before they reveal their leotard, the square-cut jacket with geometric decoration might have an air of ringmaster, and the red curved panels of the trousers might belong to the world’s most elegant clown. It was more about suggestion than any real straightforward circus reference. The aerialist who closed the show wore clouds of silk organza and flew like a bird through the huge space, just like the doves who nestled on the circus ring.

Ronald van der Kemp has a superb couture skill of offering the unexpected in his collections, since each piece is inspired by the collage of materials he finds. A splendid outfit in brocades and silks, with a jacket and skirt in a mélange of opulent jewel colours, had a pirate swagger, whilst a yellow and black dress seemed like a portrait of a grand lady of society. Then a straight architectural ivory dress was ceremonial, and a yellow, red, apricot, pink and fuchsia dress unfolded like a pleated paper Chinese lantern. The clothes are witty, stylish, beautifully constructed, and the collection always offers a wardrobe from day to night.

Alexis Mabille showed an AI film and edited his story to his greatest signature pieces. Strong silhouettes, brilliant colours, and a seductive sexiness all added up to a beautiful collection. The only controversy seems to be that some don’t like the technology, but Monsieur Mabille has shown many ways, from runway to exhibition to photography, so I’m sure we will get something different next season, whatever some people think.

Franck Sorbier always tells the audience a story, and dancers, actors and brilliant casting communicate the narrative each season. However, the real focus is each season’s beautiful clothes. The dress made of printed handkerchiefs, ready for a picnic in a country meadow; the pale rose dance dress fluttering past as though on its way to Le Spectre de la Rose; the slightly 1940s dress definitely on its way to a party beside the Seine; and the red silk taffeta ball gown whose corselet bodice was banded with roses must be seen under glittering chandeliers and golden mirrors dancing with Prince Charming.

Yuima Nakazato explores new horizons in each couture collection he creates. Truly using couture as a laboratory, he moves in with his ideas and plans: new fabric, new ways of construction, new sounds, and challenging the audience to focus on each season’s innovations. The key element this season was the porcelain “shells” tumbling, climbing, and encrusting the looks. At times they made a loud sound; at others the designer himself simply beat a rhythm with them. Underpinning the embellishments were extraordinary white knitwear pieces like fish bones, I thought. There was also fabric where it seemed the gold printing had been carried out on a surface already scrunched and twisted under the print. The show felt like a ritual as we watched the models pass, and the gender-blurred parade felt as though these pieces were ceremonial. Ravishing.

Valentino designer Alessandro Michele offered a hundred years of fashion trends reimagined for 2026. Paul Poiret, Léon Bakst and the early nineteen hundreds, through the glamour of 1940s Hollywood to the strict slender suits of the 1950s and through to the glamour of the 1980s. It was, of course, all filtered through the designer’s eye and imagination, and it also distilled a distinct trend within couture: variety. The tightly edited statement works in one way, and a diverse jigsaw works in another. I loved the simpler pieces like the red jersey dress and the deep emerald green dress, or the gold-encrusted backless top and long draped green jersey skirt. However, with a collection this varied, it will always be about personal choice, and that too is a very couture criterion to remember.

Viktor and Rolf sent out a series of stunning black evening dresses, but each dress also carried a bright accessory. As each model entered the wide, wide stage, the two designers took the accessory and fixed it to a waiting model centre stage, first seen in a short white dress. There was also a cameraman filming the designers doing their transformation work, which was shown live on the vast screens. As the show progressed, the accessories also became integral to the drape arrangement of the black dress entering, and were then assembled into supporting structures for the solo model. Finally, as the dress expanded and the layers revealed she was a kite, a model entered in a beautiful black dress with huge sleeves, on one of which was a series of yellow bows. Viktor and Rolf removed this and slowly moved to the left of the stage. As the kite started to fly, they attached the bows as the kite tail and the room erupted into a standing ovation and applause. Unforgettable.

Zuhair Murad had two distinct themes this season: shape and colour. The shapes were based around a slim and slender silhouette, but time and again a huge flounce from the knees, a sensuous warped back-panel skirt unfolding, a bubble of silk satin cover-up, long trailing panels or a stole effect shifted the balance and brought glamour to the look, but with softness, since all the fabrics swished and moved with air inside them, not heaviness. In the same way, the colours were light and often “between” shades, really difficult to describe, again because the lustre of the fabrics caught the light. A pale frosted grey-khaki, a muted rose-apricot, a misty ivory-white or an aquamarine-pale azure blue. The colours also seemed very much inspired by nature in their hues, and indeed within the collection were floral embroideries that looked like French court paintings of the eighteenth century.

Behind Robert Wun’s models, enormous screens blasted film of the weather: storm clouds, thunderstorms, dark clouds against the sun, nighttime constellations. It was dramatic. Against this, sharp tailoring was a key message, with tailcoats, Beau Brummell Spencer jackets, wide trousers, and frock-coat-style waistcoats. Later, huge crinoline skirts appeared, one made of apparently some kind of shuddering silicone. One was made of pleated satin and another of layers and layers of tulle. A black and a white outfit had birds alighting on them as if brought by the weather, and finally a veiled ball gown entered, glittering with cloudy constellations as if transported from some other planetary system.

Aelis, Sofia Crociani sent out weightless, fragile pieces even when in sharp tailoring. Her aesthetic isn’t for everyone, but to me her work is enchanting. It’s not just romantic, but has a kind of melancholy, yet also celebrates the fabrics and details, and accessories used in its quiet way. The way old lace in écru was simply allowed to become an over-layer without extra construction; the back view of a tulle dress held by a few tiny, perfectly placed tucks in the fabric; the gentle looping up of a pale sky-blue taffeta dress to form the bodice simply by a single change in the peplum. Her work is about exploring the way each fabric responds and how she may display it best to the viewer. Her collections are followed by a small but discerning clientele around the world, so I have others who, like me, value her whisper in a world of shouting. Thank you, Sofia.

Peet Dullaert shows clothes that mix traditional couture with surprises and quirky details that you need an eagle eye to catch. A bustier or an over-bodice seemingly made of vintage components fits securely at the front and hugs the model’s torso, yet the back splays out and has a single fastening. A severe black look top to toe has a frayed and tattered black tulle overskirt, like the shadow of a ballerina’s tutu. A ribbon trails down the back of a look, fluttering gently, yet one is never entirely sure what it might be fastening. Oh look, there is a tiny piece of lace. Oh, sky-blue tulle is forming a tiny cloud around the hem of a skirt. It is a constant series of surprises and explorations of how to balance and also off-balance a look. It is a designer’s eye trusting its intuition to get it right. Plain tailoring, a simple beaded floor-length vest dress, but each has a certain something that makes it special and his alone — proportion, colour, something always marks it out as special in every sense of the word.

Rami Al Ali has one thing I adore in his collections: the patterns, decoration and elements from his culture, but how he distils the essence down and down. He extracts, say, a pattern, yet it’s allowed to fade away, or to be almost tone-on-tone, or the shape starts one way and finishes another. It’s a superb balancing act of honouring both his heritage and the demands of haute couture. I also love his colour sense when he uses sand, wheat, corn, or other soft natural shades in exquisite luxury fabrics. He is also a past master at using volume without bulk, folds of fabric with weight, and slender silhouettes with exaggeration. This is great couture because it’s understated yet so luxurious. I guess the silky fringed dress epitomises how rich and gorgeous it looks, but it is simply silk fringe, yet the colour, the proportions of the fringe, and the swaying hypnotic beauty are only possible with a confident designer, great workrooms, and the very best materials. It is a marvellous combination.

Miss Sohee gave us a lot to think about, and the show press release sheet was amazingly helpful, not a series of creative cyphers but explanations of the origins of the patterns, colours, and shapes in the collection. It is a truly couture collection, with layering of embroideries, decorative techniques and colour combinations that take a special kind of observation to put together and make work. I loved a tiny bolero inspired by a traditional Chinese jacket, or the completely blue and white evening dress and train, obviously inspired by Chinese porcelain. The top-to-toe white look accessorised by a white peacock, or the huge satin duster coat, the overskirt like clamshells, or the cherry blossom motif were all in the collection, and yet the designer’s vision controls it all, so it is focused and not overloaded. It has a complex beauty only possible if the designer can direct the team to see her vision, and if she has that vision with clarity. Miss Sohee certainly has both.

Kevin Germanier showed a collection made from recycled LVMH clothes. You would never know if you weren’t told. It is magnificent haute couture, menswear or womenswear, viscous acid green or ice blue — it is superbly worked out. Somehow, he has evolved his own embroidery-pattern signature, so you know it’s his work, and it is always dense, rich and gorgeous. He closed couture week, which is great in one way and sad in another, since many will not have stayed to see his contribution to the future of couture. Like Aelis, Julie de Libran, Ronald van der Kemp and a few others, he’s attempting to make couture that relies on its ability to take what already exists and represent it in a new form, or take the last of something and refresh it so it becomes a collectable. It’s more than simply upcycling or deadstock — it’s a new attitude to reuse what was once seen as finished or useless, and Kevin Germanier is a brilliant exponent of the genre.