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Fashion Fandoms Conquer Paris

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Fashion Fandoms Conquer Paris

The skies parted for Rick Owens.

Thursday afternoon in Paris was a soggy one, but as a giant, eager crowd descended on the reflecting pool of the Palais De Tokyo, gray clouds gave way to beams of light. Show attendees took off their Rick-branded rain ponchos and settled in for some of the best people-watching in fashion as young fans dressed in all black, some with spikey, platform heels and others in beat-up sneakers, climbed atop a bus stop to get a good view of the runway.

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There’s nothing like a Rick Owens show, not only because of the magic the designer is able to conjure up with his spectacular 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 followers, a cult of creatively hungry and unabashedly expressive fashion obsessives. They’re the proud freaks who wait in long lines to shop at his stores, who follow his every move on social media and come to the Palais De Tokyo to worship at the alter of Rick Owens.

Some of those people also modeled this season. A few of them stood at the highest point of the building’s marble facade, throwing white rose petals down into the fog billowing out of machines at the base of the Palais steps, while groups of people who’d been cast from art schools around Paris began to walk out in unison. Each “infantry,” as Owens referred to them backstage, was dressed in a grouping of similar looks from the huge collection.

Owens titled the collection “Hollywood,” a nod to his time spent living on Hollywood Boulevard, the place where he says he really became himself and was able to embrace his creativity. There were insanely gorgeous gold-painted column dresses as well as gold knit gowns cut out and spliced up in such a way that it looked as though they were dripping 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, the house codes he defined, worn by a group of people who represent the vastness and vibrancy of his beloved fanbase.

Last season, Owens showed his fall collection at his home. He did so in order to practice some restraint and reverence in the midst of the ongoing conflicts in Ukraine and Gaza (and elsewhere in the world). But, as he also said backstage post-show, “it ended up being a message of exclusion” because the people who are usually able to watch the show from outside the Palais De Tokyo couldn’t. For Spring 2025, he wanted to do what he’d done with his men’s show this summer and invite students to model. “It was an army of love to combat any army of hate that you see in the world,” he said.

A very different fan army was on full display at Schiaparelli, where throngs of screaming Kardashian-heads waited outside the venue to get a look at Kylie Jenner, who attended, or her sister Kendall, who walked in the show. Inside, women were decked out in full Schiaparelli camp, sipping champagne in their jackets with gold lip and eye buttons.

The collection was a celebration of sexiness, modeled by fashion’s icons of sexy: 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 naughty little skirt suits with exposed bras. Daniel Roseberry’s designs have morphed over the last couple of seasons from surrealist to sensual-everyday, and the hot crowd that came out to play for the show last night certainly proved the shift has staying power.

schiaparelli 2025

Christina Fragkou

Play was—and always is—the name of the game at All-In, a still-emerging label from designers Benjamin Barron and Bror August Vestbø. On the 40th floor of a Parisian office building, the designers set up a small, elevated catwalk for their models who included Colin Jones, a woman with the walk of the gods. The collection was styled by Lotta Volkova and titled “Uptown Girl.” Really, the clothes looked like Working Girl’s Tess and Carrie Bradshaw got spun up in a blender and spit out as a Dimes Square version of Samantha Jones. Messy glam was the vibe and it was fabulous.

Barron and Vestbø realized this complex, kooky, crazy beautiful woman through deconstructed denim, mini ruffle skirts worn over pants, ‘80s-style sweatsuit jackets with padded shoulders, and a patchworked polka-dot silk scarf dress. The crowd cheered and oohed as the models walked by, and they danced and bobbed along to a playlist that included a mash-up 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 mugged for photos in the hallway while friends—work friends, friend-friends, friends of the designers—hugged and gagged over the collection.

This season has largely been about themes surrounding self-expression and individuality. Some of the best shows yesterday though reminded us that there’s so much collaboration and conversation that happens in fashion, so many brilliant ideas and wild theories hatched over group chats and subway rides and wine-fueled meals. It’s the power of peer to peer, of Substack threads and references passed back and forth via Instagram DM.

Owens said it best: “Everybody talks about individuality being so important—maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s a moment to think about solidarity.” Solidarity, community, kiki-ing, fanning-out, whatever you want to call it, yesterday in Paris reminded us that there’s power in the whole of fashion. Come together, indeed.

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