This fashion month, models walked the tightrope between fantasy and function. On the runway, spectacle was dialled up to 100: Alaïa’s armless “straitjacket” dress, Margiela’s metal mouthpieces, and Jean Paul Gaultier’s naked male body prints were among the pieces to spark a wider debate. 

Some critics have asked what feels like an obvious question: do designers actually understand — or even care — how women dress in their real lives?

BoF’s Diana Pearl and Cat Chen join senior editor Sheena Butler-Young to examine why criticism is intensifying now, the role of authorship and how brands can balance showmanship with wearability.

Key Insights: 

• Designers face backlash when spectacle eclipses women’s realities. As Pearl observes, “designers weren’t really designing for actual women — or at worst, designing clothes that felt almost disrespectful.” To Pearl, many runway moments “felt either like it was erasing the woman or immobilising them… like fashion is a form of torture.” Even if looks are “dramatized for the runway,” she says, “there’s still a message being sent” that can be interpreted as designers not respecting women. 

• Chen doesn’t see this season as uniquely outrageous in a vacuum, but says context matters. She adds that criticism hits harder now amid other external circumstances, one of which is that many brands are struggling financially. “The fact that these designers had a commercial incentive to be more resonant with consumers and then created these collections that didn't hit at that level, I think that made these collections so much more perceptible to be criticised in this way,” says Chen. 

• Body diversity is the more urgent gap to fix. Pearl says the ultra-thin casting “adds insult to injury… a parade of models that are all extremely thin and… unattainable,” compounding the sense that runways aren’t made with real women in mind. Chen goes further: “the lack of body diversity on the runway is a huge problem,” noting data that shows representation “falling straight down from 2023 to 2025.”

• Pearl notes perception shifts with who’s in charge: “Women aren’t represented at the top, so it makes us more primed to look at a mouthpiece and feel it’s sexist because it’s coming from a male designer.” Still, she points to shows that balance both: Chanel’s debut “felt very wearable” while staging delivered “otherworldly” theatre, and Khaite’s runways pair mood with pieces that, also, “feel very wearable.” Chen adds that smaller, women-led brands win by staying close to their customer: “It’s really not about spectacle, it’s about being in the same room as their customers.”

Additional Resources:

• Does Fashion Know What Women Want? | BoF 
• Fashion’s Musical Chairs Ends — With Men in Almost Every Seat. | BoF 
• The Emerging Designers Pushing Fashion Forward | BoF 

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Born and raised in Nairobi, Katungulu Mwendwa grew up cradled in the  warmth and unpredictability of the bustling Kenyan capital and the hands-on craft traditions learned from her family — basketry, pottery, leather and beadwork. A childhood fascination with cherished garments led her to pursue fashion studies in the UK, giving her both a technical grounding and a view of the global system.

Back home, she gave herself a double challenge: build a contemporary brand with deep cultural roots and make as much as possible on the African continent, working with local artisans and resource

“The global fashion world doesn't operate in isolation. You have Paris Fashion Week, you have New York — why can't Nairobi be one of those places?” asks Mwendwa. “I'm not trying to run for president, but I'm now a fashion designer. So how can I have an impact on my environment? How can I be the change I want to see?”  

This week on the BoF Podcast, Imran Amed sits down with new BoF 500 member Katungulu Mwendwa to understand why making locally matters, how to design “everyday armour”  people will keep for years, and what global buyers must change to unlock the potential of African fashion.

Key Insights: 

• For Mwendwa, producing locally isn’t a marketing line, it’s the whole point: to grow skills and value chains at home. That means insisting on using local resources, bringing artisans into contemporary products and accepting the grind of building capacity. “It was the most important thing … How can I be the change I want to see? I’m so adamant about working with local resources, because if we don’t, why would anything change?” she says. 

• The answer is to work with local resources and revive knowledge that’s slipping from view: “A lot of our history is not easy to access … Some practices are forgotten or not celebrated as much, and I use my work to reimagine or re-establish those traditional practices.”

• Mwendwa designs garments meant to outlast trends. “I want to meet people [who] five years later, even ten years later, and hear they still have it in their closet and they’re hoping to pass it on because it’s so valuable, it’s well looked after,” she says. The goal is emotional durability: “This is a piece I’m going to treasure … I’ll wear [it] for special occasions, or because I just feel special today.” 

• Building a fashion brand from Nairobi and starting in an ecosystem with little ready-made support means learning by doing. “You literally do everything — I was the tailor, pattern cutter, sales and comms,” Mwendwa explains. She also tapped into incubators and grants, selling through Nairobi retailers, lodges and select international stockists, but her message to global buyers is pragmatic and pointed: “Change the way you work … There’s a consumer who wants what’s on the continent — they just don’t know it yet. We’re not talking big batches — stop with, ‘We need 250 pieces.’ Offer a unique capsule batch for a period of time and see what that does.”

Additional Resources:

•  Katungulu Mwendwa | BoF 500 | The People Shaping the Global Fashion Industry 
• The Emerging Designers Pushing Fashion Forward | BoF

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Retailers are racing to repackage shops as “third places” — low-pressure spaces to linger between home and work — as post-pandemic footfall softens and social isolation rises. Sociologist Ray Oldenburg’s original idea centres on civic, low-barrier hubs like cafés and libraries rather than commercial destinations, yet brands are now adding seating, listening bars and in-store cafés to nudge dwell time, loyalty and favourable word of mouth. The best versions use subtle amenities that keep people comfortably in the space, but the sales impact is yet to be proven.

In this episode, BoF retail editor Cat Chen joins The Debrief to unpack why scale matters, how to measure success beyond sales, and where third-place experiments risk sliding from community into pure branding.

Key Insights: 

• In their efforts to create third places, retailers are utilising food and beverage as subtle amenities that keep people lingering: it’s ‘not about creating food and beverage as a destination, but about simply getting people to spend more time in the store,’” says Chen. Done well, that “authentically [creates] a community,” and “when you have this really positive experience in their ecosystem, you will feel very positively about the brand.” Still, she cautions: “The idea of a third place as a way to drive sales for retailers is an unproven theory.”

• “Community building is authentic and not a branding exercise,” Chen says. The worst versions of third places feel “branded to death” and designed for photos more than social connection. “At the end of the day, it's not about the social experience of being there, it's about taking a photo of it and being able to consume this luxury brand. That's akin to the first step of being able to afford their $3,000 handbag.” It all goes back to commerce and “is very much the opposite of what Oldenburg meant.” 

• Practical amenities in stores build goodwill. Western outfitter Tecovas’ “radical hospitality” includes a lounge and a free bar inside its store, Sephora succeeds with a hands-off approach when customers are trying samples, and Apple allows patrons to charge their phone or use the bathroom — a small service that leaves a positive halo. As Chen puts it, food and beverage in a third place should be low commitment, cheap and have a low barrier to entry. “There have been a lot of thinkpieces about private members’ clubs popping up in New York and how this is tied to this desire for third places. Private member clubs are not third places, they are the antithesis of third places."  

Additional Resources:

• Can a Store Ever Be a ‘Third Place?’ | BoF 
• How Brands Make Community More Than a Buzzword | BoF

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We’ve just returned from what was undoubtedly the biggest fashion month ever, a high-stakes season that saw new creative directors debut their visions for fresh creative leadership under the spotlight at Chanel, Dior, Jil Sander, Loewe, Jean Paul Gaultier — and many more.

So what to make of it all? Much of it was about expectations. For some designers like Jonathan Anderson at Dior and Pierpoalo Piccioli at Balenciaga, expectations were running high making it almost impossible to please the industry and online critics. Others like Dario Vitale at Versace and Jack McCullough and Lazaro Hernandez at Loewe had been written off by some observers even before they showed — leaving them the opportunity to surprise, delight and overdeliver. Only one show seems to have unanimously impressed all around: Matthieu Blazy’s big debut at Chanel, the last big show at Paris Fashion Week.

“It was the one show that incontrovertibly did what it had to do. Not just for the brand, but for the business, for the industry,” says Blanks. “And I think people could leave Paris on the second to last day on an upbeat note. Earlier in the week, some of the most anticipated shows, like Jonathan at Dior or Pierpaolo at Balenciaga had been incredibly polarizing, and I think there seems to be relatively universal agreement on Chanel.” 

This week on the BoF podcast, Imran Amed sits down with Tim Blanks to unpack the highlights of Fashion Month, the designer versus house debate, and why time and empathy matter this season. 

Key Insights: 

• According to Blanks, Blazy “managed to do a Chanel that reflected [Coco Chanel], but also reflected his feelings about what she had done with his vocabulary, which is very craft-oriented, very experimental.” Crucially, Blazy struck a balance “between what Chanel was and what Chanel needs to be,” he adds. 

• At Dior, Anderson opened with an audacious collaboration with filmmaker journalist Adam Curtis on a short film that blended fashion with slasher horror. “It was sort of an act of contextualisation for what he intends for the house,” says Blanks. Amed also welcomes Anderson’s measured exploration of the luxury house. “The Loewe that he built was built over time. It took 10 years. And so I think we should expect the same with him at Dior,” he says. “While maybe not everything in my view worked in that Dior show, I think that is the point because you learn from that.”

• For Duran Lantink, compatibility at Jean Paul Gaultier was never the issue. “His attitude to everything is so similar to Gaultier’s attitude. The sort of provocation, the sex games,” says Blanks. Yet he was left wanting more. “I wanted so much more from that show. And in the end, I did not feel that there was enough Gaultier or enough Duran.” 

• Amid a debut-heavy season dominated by men, Sarah Burton’s second outing at Givenchy reads as a quiet counterpoint and a reminder of female authorship at the highest level. “She’s really got the imp of the perverse in her,” says Blanks, before praising a show that was “extremely elegant … I thought I could see women wanting those clothes. The way she elongated things was so flattering and simple.” He adds, “I really would love to see that collection take off.”

Additional Resources:

The Top 10 Shows of the Season

Did Fashion’s Season of Change Actually Change Anything? Yes and No

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From team-branded fashion shows to tunnel-walk capsules and luxury watch deals, sport and fashion are converging at speed. The NFL has rolled smaller licensing tie-ups into marquee partnerships, while the WNBA is emerging as a fertile ground for inventive brand-player collaborations. But alongside the growth is bloat: logo-slap collections, clearance-rack remnants and fuzzy KPIs.

Senior correspondent Sheena Butler-Young and executive editor Brian Baskin are joined by BoF sports correspondent Mike Sykes to map the deals that resonate and the ones that miss — and how success of these partnerships are being measured beyond the momentary halo.

Key Insights: 

• The WNBA is a collaboration engine because players are the drivers, not passengers. “I think the WNBA right now is a breeding ground for some of these deals in part because the players are eager to find these other opportunities to spread their portfolio,” Sykes says. That unlocks new formats: partnerships “not just between teams and brands or the league and brands, but players themselves and the brands [that] manifest in really cool and unique ways.”

• Name, Image and Likeness (NIL) has supercharged women’s sports, and fashion is part of the bargaining. Sheena points out the 2021 shift when “college athletes could not monetise their name, image, or likeness” and then stars like “Angel Reese and Caitlin Clark were becoming brands in their own right.” That changes how teams and leagues engage players: “fashion deals can be a bargaining chip on both sides of that equation.”

• As sports and fashion collaborations become more ubiquitous, authentic propositions are needed to cut through the noise. As Butler-Young puts it, the best examples “take the collections seriously. They treat it like a real fashion product. ‘Anything will do’ – people see through that.” Sykes agrees: “To work with players, you have to work with teams that really want to do things the right way.” It has to make sense for the consumer, and when it doesn’t, the audience calls it out. “The Chelsea and OVO collection was kind of a logo-slap.  Even the fans were like, ‘This isn’t it.’”  

• For some brands and athletes involved in these collaborations, partnerships are judged on reach and relevance rather than immediate revenue as the key marker of success. Sykes points to the NFL x Veronica Beard blazers: “There’s still some of that product left and it’s 75 to 80 per cent discounted … you have to look at that as a failure.” Yet the league “takes a holistic view,” he says: even if one capsule doesn’t sell through, lessons on “what you produce, how much, where you produce it, who your core audiences are” feed the next partnership.

Additional Resources:

• Sports and Fashion Are Tighter Than Ever. But Who’s Really Winning? 
• Has Fashion’s Convergence With Sports Gone Too Far?  
• How WNBA Players Are Using Merch to Underscore Their Value  

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Raised in a family of antique jewellery specialists, Kiki McDonough launched her namesake jewellery brand in 1985 with accessible pricing and pieces women could wear anywhere. Her early crystal-and-bow designs ended up in the V&A, while her growing client list came to include members of the royal family, and her brand has helped normalise women buying jewellery for themselves. 

At first, “a man would come in and buy a piece of jewellery for his wife,” she says. Soon the couple arrived together and she would choose. Today, the behaviour is normalised. “Now it’s just, ‘I need a pair of earrings for my daughter’s wedding’… I think it’s all changed.” 

This week on The BoF Podcast, McDonough joins BoF’s founder and CEO Imran Amed, to reflect on her resilience through recessions and a pandemic, the enduring appeal of coloured gemstones, and why jewellery’s longevity and the everyday joy it can inspire.

Key Insights: 

• When McDonough launched in 1985 she set out a clear price ladder that brought fine jewellery into everyday life. “I thought the prices should be under £1,000 … £95 to £950 and that’s where I started.” Her first pencil sketch became a heart crystal design that a Birmingham maker took “a punt” on and they’re now in the Victoria and Albert Museum. The moment matched a broader cultural shift. As she puts it, the 1980s had “an atmosphere … full of can-do” and women were “open to wearing something else.”

• She helped move jewellery from being gifted to being self purchased, a shift accelerated by social change and London’s Big Bang. At first, “a man would come in and buy a piece of jewellery for his wife,” she says. Soon the couple arrived together and she would choose. Today, the behaviour is normalised. “Now it’s just, ‘I need a pair of earrings for my daughter’s wedding’… I think it’s all changed.” 

• McDonough says jewellery outperforms fashion because it carries both longevity and daily joy. Pieces become heirlooms that keep working across generations. “I’ve got lots of women now whose children are wearing the jewellery they bought from me 15 years ago,” she says. 

• Four decades in, resilience and pacing have been McDonough’s strengths. “I’ve [been through] two recessions, a pandemic and 10 prime ministers,” she says, crediting “resilience, a sense of humour and common sense.” She built slowly and on her own terms. “People used to say to me how many shops have you got and I’d say, ‘I’ve got one shop and two children.’” 

• The financial discipline needed for success, McDonough learned early. “Look after the pennies because the pounds look after themselves,” she says. Her advice to founders is to start carefully, test products, preserve cash and keep going. “It’s terribly important not to spend the money immediately … pace yourself,” because momentum that lasts beats scale for scale’s sake, she adds. Her last piece of wisdom? A good brand can outlive its founder. “I don’t believe that anyone is indispensable,” she says. 

Additional Resources:

• How Statement Earrings Became Generation Selfie’s Favourite Trend
• Queen Elizabeth II’s Style Legacy

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Brands like Bubble, Starface and Byoma rode TikTok-native aesthetics to win Gen-Z hearts and Sephora shelf space with plush mascots, playful stickers and sensorial jelly textures. Founders close in age to their audience moved fast, crowd-sourced ideas and mastered algorithms. Now the oldest Gen Z consumers are nearing 30 and looking for fewer gimmicks and more proof that formulas work.

In this episode, senior beauty correspondent Daniela Morosini unpacks what still resonates, where the “dopamine” look carries a credibility tax, and why channel strategy, product performance and smart casting matter more than ever.

Key Insights: 

• Gen Z brands broke through by moving at internet speed and co-creating with their audience. “These brands are all just so digitally native… and for a lot of them the founders were quite young themselves,” says Morosini. They were “small, scrappy businesses [with] shorter product launch cycles [and] really savvy marketing.” Crucially, they “did a lot of crowdsourcing, social listening, and were really plugged into internet forums,” so products felt made with, not just for, their audience.

• The ‘fun’ factor worked best online as visuals drove discovery: “Goopy, gloopy, sticky things… look good in a video. You see someone put that on their face and then you want to try it.” At the same time, expectations have climbed as “people are really quick to reject a product if it doesn’t perform exactly the way they want.” And bright, playful packaging can backfire for results-seekers: “Colourful, bright things we associate with play, silliness, youth and frivolity… you might think, ‘this is not a serious product.’”

• If stalwarts like Neutrogena and Clearasil have long dominated the teen aisle, why can’t today’s Gen-Z-first labels simply stay youth brands rather than trying to age up? As Morosini puts it, legacy names “have definitely ceded market share to some of these newer indies… these are brands you can find in every drugstore… [they’re] most teens’ or tweens’ introduction to the beauty category.” But “those brands are not cool,” and the Gen-Z pioneers “really want to be cool… and relevant,” not just “the thing that your mum might pick up… when you’re complaining about having a spot.” The challenge is clear: “it’s hard to be both legacy and cool.”

• Some labels are widening reach by changing where and what they sell. “Byoma went into some more premium retail pretty quickly,” Morosini notes, adding that “retailers really function as a marketing engine.” Others are broadening beyond a single hero. Ultimately, Morisini says survival hinges on utility. “It will come down to the brands that truly have replenishable products differentiated enough, at the right price point, and genuinely offer unique enough results that people will continue to return to them once any maybe the noise around the texture or the packaging has died down.”

Additional Resources:

• Bubble Was Built on Gen Z. Now, It Must Grow Up. | BoF 
• The Gen-Z Whisperer: How Julie Schott Made Acne a Laughing Matter | BoF
• How to Keep the Gen-Z Fragrance Boom Going | BoF 

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Growing up in Ohio, Edward Buchanan always knew he would have a creative career.

That interest first led him to art school at CCAD in Cleveland and then to the Parsons School of Design in New York, where he juggled jobs in visual merchandising with school and the city’s inspiring, pulsating nightlife. 

He got his big break in fashion when he was hired as the first design director at Bottega Veneta, which was then a small family-run business led by Vittorio and Lara Moltedo. He relocated to Italy in 1995 and has been building a professional career in fashion ever since, one of the few Black creatives in the Italian fashion system giving him a unique vantage point on the value of inclusivity.

In this episode of The BoF Podcast, BoF founder and CEO Imran Amed sits down with Edward to retrace the designer’s formative years, look back at his time at Bottega Veneta and quiz him on how young creatives and people of colour can succeed in fashion today.

Key Insights: 

• “When I was at Parsons, I excelled. I really loved being there and learning, the core. The pattern making, the cutting, the fabric … the technical aspects of design I was just obsessed with,” Buchanan says. Even his time at Bottega was a learning process, “I was really learning luxury goods while I was working at Bottega Veneta … I went in with taste and an idea of understanding what this brand is or potentially what this could be.”

• After leaving Bottega Veneta, Buchanan wasn’t in contact with the brand for a long time; he felt his work went unrecognised. However, when he was included in the brand’s campaign to mark the 50th anniversary of the Intrecciato, a new relationship with the brand formed. “I thought that this is an honest way of saying you did that job, you were here, and we respect the work that you did.”

• Despite strides made, Buchanan believes the fashion industry still has a way to go in regards to diversity, particularly in Italy. Buchanan says he will always advocate for people of colour, “I feel like if I'm not encouraged and charged to speak in first person about my experience and reach out my hand to the others that look like me or are like me … then there's no one else that's gonna do it.”

• Buchanan encourages young creatives to not just study design, but the other aspects of fashion, too. “It’s necessary to be multifaceted as a creative and know the business … I always instill in my students [to] find the honesty in your design, find what is the thing that you really believe in.”

Additional Resources:

Black, Creative and Collaborating Across Generations

Profile

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Luxury is struggling to connect with Gen Z, a cohort raised on TikTok and YouTube who research before they buy, shop vintage and resale as a first stop, and question whether soaring prices match product quality. While Millennials fuelled the last luxury boom via streetwear crossovers and scarcity-led drops, today’s younger shoppers are more value-driven and sceptical of polished brand theatre. In-store, rigid service models feel alien to a generation used to conversational creators.

This episode of The Debrief explores what “worth it” means to Gen Z and how brands can earn it. Greater transparency on materials and craftsmanship, content that feels real rather than aspirational, and participation in the second-hand ecosystem will be critical to rebuilding trust and lifetime value with younger consumers. 

Key Insights: 

• Gen Z are not tuning out of fashion, they’re interrogating it. As Takanashi puts it, “[Gen Z] are so savvy. They can just look up what the Louis Vuitton bag is made of and see it’s actually canvas… Should I really spend a thousand dollars on that? Is there an alternative?” The backlash is philosophical as well as financial. Kwon says there’s a pervasive idea that luxury conglomerates are just trying to squeeze as much profit as possible. “There is real ire and resentment among Gen Z around price hikes. I think we’re a generation that cares a lot about value for dollar,” she says. When the price, materials and narrative do not align, younger shoppers default to vintage, resale or opting out.

• Price justification starts with transparency and proof. “Whether it's a thousand-dollar handbag or a $100 candle, you have to explain why luxury costs what it costs, that there’s this craftsmanship and heritage,” says Takanashi. But storytelling alone will not close the sale. “Even then, it’s just so hard to convince that customer that craftsmanship is worth the money. You also have to play into their cultural interests and what they’re passionate about.” That means moving beyond heritage talking points to show living communities, real processes and credible creatives who make the brand feel current.

• Digitally native Gen Z want real content, not polished marketing campaigns. “Our generation grew up on YouTube, ‘how to build an outfit 101’ – that’s how we got our style advice, not from magazines,” says Kwon, which is why they still “look to influencers and social media for trend analysis.” The tone matters as much as the channel. Takanashi argues that content should “feel real, like an unboxing, not a glossy marketing campaign. … Something that just feels like anyone could make it.” The formats that win are lo-fi, conversational and useful, with creators who will praise and critique in the same breath.

• Many first encounters with luxury now happen through second-hand, so brands need to embrace that ecosystem and give clear on-ramps back to full price. The product and the pitch must both feel meaningful. Kwon says Gen Z still wants “a very beautiful story” and to “feel like they’re a part of a movement.”

Additional Resources:

• Why Luxury Needs to Rethink How It Speaks to Gen Z | BoF 
• The Great Fashion Reset | Can Designer Revamps Save Fashion? | BoF 

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Belgian designer Glenn Martens grew up in Bruges, studied in Antwerp and cut his teeth in Paris, where lean years taught him every role from pattern cutting to PR. At Y/Project, he turned constraints into modular, shape-shifting design. At Diesel, he reset the brand around its founding spirit of joy, cheekiness and denim, replacing muddled codes with a clear manifesto and democratic shows that speak to a global community. Now balancing Diesel with Maison Margiela, Martens argues that fashion should make people happy while resisting the dopamine churn of instant judgement.

“We are just consuming visuals and we don't really have the time to go deep into the clothes, the storytelling, the construction, where it comes from. It just needs to be like a hit. It gets a bit more superficial,” he shares with Imran Amed, BoF founder and CEO. “In 2025, a creative director has to be a socialite, has to be the king of social media and  there's so many more things that all my colleagues and I have to do outside of that runway. The beauty of fashion is it's a process and it's a build-up and it’s not happening in one show – this is happening in three, four, five shows. So we need to respect that and celebrate that.”

This week on The BoF Podcast, Amed sits down with Martens to talk about learning every job in the studio, rebuilding Diesel around its founding values, as well as the pressure and possibility of this high-stakes season.

Key Insights: 

• Martens argues that the industry’s chase for quick hits has flattened nuance, yet he is determined to hold the line on depth and craft. “There is definitely a big part of me that loves to deep-dive into storytelling and construction, that likes to challenge construction and try to find new ways to create beauty and new ways to create clothes. I am very easily bored; I need to challenge myself. I love experimentation and that makes me happy.”

• At Diesel, Martens began by reconnecting the house to its core DNA. “My biggest thing I did was resetting the whole thing and reminding everybody why Diesel was big in the first place. And I think that is something that is really important to never forget, that the success of a brand is the core reason why the brand is there and we should always connect to that and stay close to that.” He underscores the scale and breadth of the audience while keeping a unified voice. “We are so diverse in our markets, so we are basically talking to everybody. Every single person in the world could, in theory, be a Diesel person, but we do that with one message and with one collection.”

• Martens is now continuing to turn the runway into a democratic platform that includes the wider community, not just the front row. “I think a fashion show for us is very important because it accelerates the awareness of the brand and the direction you want to go. [Diesel] is talking about democracy. It is at heart a lifestyle brand.” For Diesel’s Spring/Summer 2026 show next week, Martens is pushing shows into public space to meet people where they are. “The launch of that collection will be in the streets of Milan. It is going to be a three-and-a-half-hour egg hunt, showing the whole diversity of the town, and everybody can participate.”

Additional Resources:

• Glenn Martens | BoF 500 | The People Shaping the Global Fashion Industry 
• Glenn Martens Has Come to Save Us | BoF

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