Paris Couture Week: The Drama, The Dresses, The Delusions
My take - if you don't like it, don't look.
Paris Couture Week. That magical time when the cobblestones tremble beneath the heels of editors, stylists, interns, influencers, and well, others. A week where couture meets chaos, and where looking confused in sunglasses qualifies as a personality.
Let’s get into it…
Rahul Mishra: Botanicals, But Make It Existential
Mishra’s couture collection, “Becoming Love,” was a breathtaking showcase of his signature embroidery and three-dimensional florals - only this time, they felt like they had something to say. There were gowns quite literally, blooming with roses, and otherworldly silhouettes, including a golden heart, (which felt rather costumey, IMO), among other structural pieces that showcased his signature intricate beadwork and embroideries. A triumph nonetheless.
The Tea:
Cardi B, who was meant to attend, missed the entire show but still had the nerve (and taste) to show up in a custom Rahul Mishra look after the show ended. Iconic. Law Roach was in attendance though, and he understood the assignment, serving presence with the appropriate reverence the collection deserved.
Schiaparelli: Elsa’s Wildest Dreams
Daniel Roseberry continues to prove he’s the rightful heir to Schiaparelli’s surrealist throne. This season was no exception. Think celestial breastplates, heavy black on black looks, sculpted, corseted gowns, regal embroidered jackets, and a metallic matador suit. There was a dramatic black sheer tulle coat, with a shearling collar embroidered with a leaf motif in pale silver lamé thread, that looked like it could have a villain origin story.
Glenn Martens for Maison Margiela: Send Help, I’m Obsessed
Glenn Martens didn’t just give us a show, he gave us a fever dream wrapped in tulle and dipped in candle wax. Set in a spooky, candlelit crypt (because of course), Martens’ vision was gothic, unhinged, and fabulous all at once. Models walked like Victorian apparitions wearing corseted silhouettes, sheer lace, and exploded tailoring.
Some looked like they’d survived a baroque apocalypse. Others looked like they started it.
Elie Saab: Versailles, But Make It Gulf
Elie Saab delivered royal-core realness: sugar-almond pastels, golden yellows, embellished corsets, fluted sleeves and capes that deserved their own entourage. It was Marie Antoinette meets Dubai debutante - indulgent, excessive, and totally irresistible.
The all-gold figure hugging gowns? Fit for a queen - or a very rich divorcée with a grudge and a yacht.
Armani Privé: For the Woman Who’s Been Rich Since Birth
Armani Privé was elegant, restrained, and expensive in that I-don’t-do-direct-deposits kind of way. The all-black collection featured embroidered jackets, and tailored pants that whispered luxury. It wasn’t loud - but it didn’t have to be. This was for the woman who doesn’t need a Birkin to tell you she has a Birkin.
Rami Al Ali: The Debut That Stole The Week (For Me, Anyway)
Mark your calendars - because Rami Al Ali just made couture history. As the first Syrian and UAE-based designer to join the official Paris Haute Couture Week schedule, he brought long-overdue representation that wasn’t beige kaftans or awkward East-meets-West tropes.
His show, “Guardians of Light: The Living Craft of Damascus,” felt more like a resurrection than a runway. Inspired by the fading beauty of Old Damascus, the collection channeled hand-painted ceilings, carved wood, and sunlit tiles into gowns that looked like heirlooms reincarnated. Each piece was a love letter to Syrian craftsmanship - beaded, embroidered, and cinched to filth. This wasn’t just a debut. For me? He won Couture Week.
Michael Rider For Celine: A Quiet flex
Not officially on the couture calendar, but definitely on the radar, Michael Rider’s debut felt like the kind of show you hear about in hushed tones at Hotel Costes over a glass of overpriced rosé. A quiet storm of a collection: sleek tailoring, well thought out layering, and just enough edge to remind you this is a designer with something to say (and better taste than most of the front row).
Michael Rider’s debut ditched the drama for sharp tailoring, elegant dresses styled with leather plimsolls, vintage notes, chunky gold chains and a softness that felt like good taste, cut to perfection. I had access to the resee the next day (perk of the job), tried on runway pieces, and yes - preorders were open on the spot. Those jeans, scarves and that new take on the iconic Luggage bag? Already haunting my dreams. Quiet luxury may be over as a trend, but this? This was the real thing.
Final Thoughts: Sunglasses and Side Eyes
It wouldn’t be Couture Week without the front-row parade of influencers, pseudo-creatives, and someone’s cousin who just launched a fashion podcast. Sunglasses indoors, arms crossed like they’re allergic to joy, and outfits curated entirely from Pinterest boards titled “Main Character Energy.” The attitude was heavy, the outfits were try-hard, and the boredom? Deeply performative.
But beyond the theatre of who sat where and who pretended not to care, the clothes still delivered. Couture reminded us - yet again - that fashion at its best is art, fantasy, culture, and sometimes gloriously unhinged. And at its worst? Still more fun than pretending not to smile in a borrowed Margiela coat.
Because at the end of the day, it’s just fashion - and it’s not that serious.
Until next time,
Amrita x