by The heavens parted for Rick Owens.
Thursday afternoon in Paris was calm, but as a huge crowd of excited people descended on the reflection pool of the Palais De Tokyo, green clouds managed to reach beams of light. Show attendees took off their Rick-branded rain ponchos and settled in for some of fashion’s best on-lookers and young fans dressed in all black, some with stilettos, platform heels and others in beat up sneakers, they climbed on top of a bus stop to get a good view of the runway.
There is nothing like a Rick Owens show, not only because of the magic that the designer is capable of with his amazing collections and dramatic sets, but because of the fans. Owens has built one of the most relevant and successful independent brands in fashion today, thanks to his loyal following, a cult of creatively hungry and relentless fashion obsessives. They are the proud freaks who wait in long lines to shop at his stores, follow his every move on social media and come to Palais De Tokyo to worship at the altar of Rick Owens.
Some of those people also modeled this season. Some of them were standing at the highest point of the marble facade of the building, throwing white rose petals down into the mist pushing out from machines at the foot of the Palais steps, and groups of people cast from art schools around Paris began. to walk out in unison. All “pedestrians,” as Owens referred to them backstage, were dressed in similar-looking ensembles from the massive collection.
Owens titled the collection “Hollywood,” a nod to the time he spent living on Hollywood Boulevard, where he says he truly came into his own and was able to embrace his creativity. There were gorgeously painted gold column dresses as well as gold knitted gowns cut out and spliced up in such a way that they looked like they were flowing off the body. Sculptural jackets were paired with goth opera gloves, and almost all of the skirts came with trains. It was in many ways a collection of Owens’ greatest hits, his defining house codes, played by a group of people who reflect the breadth and vibrancy of his beloved fanbase.
Last season, Owens showed his fall collection at home. He did so to exercise some restraint and respect amid the ongoing conflicts in Ukraine and Gaza (and elsewhere in the world). But, as he also said backstage after a show, “it ended up being a message of exclusion” because the people who can normally watch the show from outside the Palais De Tokyo could not. For Spring 2025, he wanted to do what he did with his men’s show this summer and invite students to model. “It was a weapon of love to fight any weapon of hate you see in the world,” he said.
A very different army of fans was on full display at Schiaparelli, where many of the Kardashian heads remained screaming outside the venue to watch Kylie Jenner, who attended, or her sister Kendall, who walked in the show. Inside, women were dismissed in full Schiaparelli camp, sipping champagne in their jackets with gold lips and eye buttons.
The collection was a celebration of sexuality, based on fashion’s hottest icons: Adriana Lima, Irina Shayk, and Candice Swanenpoel. In practice, this meant corsets with jeans that curved down and around the hips, a gold bodycon dress with a keyhole at the bust and a cheeky little skirt suit with exposed bras. Daniel Roseberry’s designs have changed over the last few seasons, from surrealist to sensual every day, and the hot crowd that came out to play for the show last night was certainly proof that change has power.
Play was – and still is – the name of the game at All-In, the still-evolving label from designers Benjamin Barron and Bror August Vestbø. On the 40th floor of an office building in Paris, the designers set up a small elevated catwalk for their models which included Colin Jones, a woman with the walk of the gods. Style Lotta Volkova the collection and titled “Uptown Girl.” Actually, the clothes looked Working Girl‘Tess and Carrie Bradshaw were spun in a blender and came out looking like Dimes Square’s version of Samantha Jones. The vibe was messy glam and it was amazing.
Barron and Vestbø realized this complex, skinned beauty through deconstructed denim, ruffled mini skirts worn over pants, ’80s-style sweatsuit jackets with padded shoulders, and polka-dotted silk scarf dresses. The crowd cheered and jeered as the models walked by, and danced and grooved to a playlist that included a mix of samples like Jones’ famous line “Dirty martini, dirty bastard,” the Sex and the City theme, and “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”
After the show, the models hung out in the crowd and posed for photos in the hallway as friends – work friends, friends of friends, friends of the designers – hugged and gagged over the collection.
This season was very much about themes of self-expression and individuality. Some of yesterday’s best shows, however, reminded us that there are so many collaborations and conversations that happen in fashion, so many great ideas and wild theories hurtle over group chats and subway rides and wine-fueled meals. It’s the power between peers, Substack threads and referrals sent back and forth via Instagram DM.
Owens said it best: “Everyone talks about individuality being so important – maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s a moment to think about solidarity.” Solidarity, togetherness, kiki-ing, fanning-out, whatever you want to call it, yesterday in Paris reminded us that power is all about fashion. Come together, indeed.
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