The Mask Slips:Making Sense of AW26
Two Critics. Six Questions. One Season That Forced Fashion To Look Itself in the Mirror
We used to anticipate fashion month. Curate outfits we would wear, pray to receive invitations from the houses we are infatuated with, and plan to meet up with friends we haven’t seen in a while. But this playful euphoria is long gone.
So, another fashion month ended. The clothes were barely dry on the racks before the verdict arrived: AW26 was the season the industry stopped pretending and started performing. Not loudly as fashion rarely announces its own unmasking, but hidden in the accumulating weight of billionaires on runways, creative directors recycling themselves like musical chairs (again!), and a newfound masked-as-nostalgia lack of ideas sweeping the runways.
But no, the machine had not broken down. It had simply revealed what it was always running on -power. I asked two of the sharpest critical voices working today — Kyle Raymont Fitzpatrick and J’Nae Phillips — to dissect what they saw, what disturbed them, and what, against all odds, enchanted them with its beauty.
What was the overall mood or defining characteristic of the AW26 season?
KYLE RAYMOND FITZPATRICK
The biggest thing to me was that this was the season where many saw the mask of fashion slip — that its true value systems in their current state, money above art, were revealed. This was most obvious in the on-the-sidelines and on-the-runway presence of billionaires. Mark Zuckerberg at Prada was there to sweeten a business deal; Bryan Johnson walking for Matières Fécales illustrated that fashion’s commentary is more performance than statement. Other than that, it mostly felt that the machine is just as bored as we are, given that Jonathan Anderson repeats his own repertoire as Loewe tries to repeat his.
J’NAE PHILLIPS
The AW26 season didn’t arrive with the usual promise of a seismic shift. Instead, it unfolded like a slow exhale — an industry-wide recalibration less concerned with inventing the future and more invested in making sense of the present. Across New York, London, Milan, and Paris, collections suggested a collective mood: fashion is no longer chasing novelty at all costs, but interrogating its own habits, contradictions, and fatigue.
One of the most striking undercurrents was fashion’s renewed fixation on nature. Not as a superficial sustainability gesture, but as a kind of cultural coping mechanism. Runways staged with moss-covered neo-landscapes, raw textures, and organic irregularity hinted at a deeper longing to disconnect from the hyper-digital reality that has dominated the past decade.
Did power dressing make a comeback, and if so, how has it evolved?
KYLE RAYMOND FITZPATRICK
Absolutely — which is more to the suit continuing to reign supreme, as certain designers like Matthieu Blazy at Chanel and Haider Ackermann at Tom Ford seek to question and challenge what their house’s suits actually are. These two are shining examples of what’s working. Both of them, for the second time around, have cranked up imagination and sex appeal in ways that were both fun and fancy, and that seek to evolve, which few were considering. I get why the Chanel Shopping Bag is having such a moment.
J’NAE PHILLIPS
Power dressing did return, though its tone has noticeably shifted. Tailoring was sharper, shoulders more pronounced, the language of authority unmistakable. Yet this was not the aggressive, high-gloss dominance of past eras — it felt hesitant. At Chanel, the suit appeared relaxed, often paired with understated basics that diluted its formality. This was power reframed for a post-girlboss world: less about projection, more about negotiation. Authority, in AW26, is something to be worn lightly, even sceptically.
Is the long-standing tension between minimalism and maximalism still defining fashion?
KYLE RAYMOND FITZPATRICK
It feels like minimalism has won because, even despite wowing moments and shows like Sarah Burton’s Givenchy collection, few were considering anything bolder than greyscale. It felt like we lost the pattern completely — textures remained, but only delivered in sunny creams through midnight blacks. Sure, there were pops of colour: the neon pink ensembles at Matières Fécales, Chanel’s yellow animal tweeds, the fiery columns at Proenza Schouler — but there’s a lack of attraction to the bold. A conservative touch has swept the floor. Loewe and Givenchy were somehow the exceptions, the latter exceptional, the former I continue to hold my breath for.
J’NAE PHILLIPS
The most defining aesthetic tension of the season was actually the collapse of the binary between the two. For years, these opposing philosophies dictated fashion’s rhythm, each rising in reaction to the other. Now they appear to be coexisting — sometimes uneasily, often within the same look. At Jil Sander, restraint and purity remained intact; elsewhere, designers embraced embellishment and theatrical excess, as at Saint Laurent. Clean silhouettes were disrupted by unexpected textures; quiet luxury was accessorised into something louder. The result reflects a broader cultural reality: identity is no longer singular, and fashion is finally catching up.
How did heritage brands approach their collections and the season’s changes in creative direction?
KYLE RAYMOND FITZPATRICK
It felt like every brand settled into their grooves — which was reassuring, even if I wish all of these designers had the licence to do their own thing, free of house rules. But that’s not how the industry or world works. Just ask John Galliano. The winner was Sarah Burton, and the biggest loser — which breaks my heart, less for the designer and more for the brand — was Pier Paolo Piccioli’s hijacked Balenciaga show, which amounted to some very depressing Euphoria sponcon.
J’NAE PHILLIPS
Heritage brands seemed preoccupied with revisiting and refining their own histories rather than pursuing shock value. At Gucci, Fendi, and Marni, collections felt like acts of careful recalibration. In an age defined by reboots, remakes, and algorithmic nostalgia, originality is no longer about creating something entirely new — it’s about recontextualising what already exists with clarity and intent.
Were there any dominant trends or a single defining moment this season?
KYLE RAYMOND FITZPATRICK
Conservatism and succumbing to power while pretending to subvert it, but also a return of the woman, by women. Unsurprisingly, Rachel Scott’s double duty at Proenza Schouler and Diotima had a moment, which we can also say of Sarah Burton and perhaps even Grace Wales Bonner at Hermès. That was the most exciting thing, considering the last fashion month focused so much on the constriction of the female body. Let fashion be beautiful and kind, please. Give me a matriarchal industry, for the love of Pete.
J’NAE PHILLIPS
There were no dominant trends loud enough to eclipse the rest, no single defining moment. Instead, the season felt like a mosaic of subtle adjustments — designers refining their languages, brands stabilising their identities, the industry shifting its priorities. Romance resurfaced, though in a distinctly pragmatic form. Lace, soft tailoring, and historical references echoing Victoriana appeared not as escapist fantasy but as structured, wearable propositions. At Dior and Givenchy, even traditionally decorative elements like peplums were reworked with discipline. This was beauty with boundaries. Even romance, it seems, has become strategic.
What does AW26 ultimately say about where fashion is heading?
KYLE RAYMOND FITZPATRICK
The industry is an accessory to power at this point, and that’s where the money is — that will not change. We’ll see more billionaire types entering the conversation as they define what brands do and don’t do. See: this year’s Met Gala. The traditional luxury houses aren’t leading the conversation anymore. The outsider — Rachel Scott, Eckhaus Latta, even Duran Lantink — continues to show where the edge of our imagination can be. Give me humour. Give me joy. And don’t put Clavicular on another goddamned runway.
J’NAE PHILLIPS
What ultimately distinguishes AW26 is its refusal to declare a singular narrative. The season felt like a post-hype phase: it’s not that creativity has diminished, but that it has become more self-aware. The industry understands its cycles, its excesses, and its contradictions more clearly than ever before. Innovation has moved behind the scenes — into systems, structures, and ways of working — rather than remaining purely aesthetic. As a result, it no longer needs to shout. AW26 was not about spectacle for its own sake, but about layering meaning.