Wearing the Winter of the Soul: Yuima Nakazato’s Elegiac Invocation of Glacial Beauty

Ceramic sculptural "armour" was a metaphor for the fragility of human life especially in glacial temperatures. Photograph (above) by Andrea Heinsohn and cover picture by Jay Zoo for DAM. 

Yuima Nakazato's new haute couture collection Glacier drew on themes of human vulnerability, protection, and transformation. The Japanese designer combined delicate ceramic elements, sculptural tailoring, and sustainable materials to explore exposure and concealment. Inspired by a journey to the frozen landscapes of northern Finland, he reflected on the body’s dependence on clothing, not only for warmth and safety, but as a language of identity and resistance. The result was a thoughtful and visually arresting meditation on the origins of dress and its enduring relevance in an uncertain world. Story by Jeanne-Marie Cilento. Photography by Andrea Heinsohn and Jay Zoo. 

The fluidity of sea-coloured

voluminous fabrics contrast

with fine, sleek tailoring.

Photograph: Jay Zoo

AMID a spartan space at the Palais de Tokyo in Paris, Japanese couturier Yuima Nakazato looked at the primal purpose of clothing. His Autumn-Winter 2025/26 haute couture collection peeled back the layers of fashion as ornamentation and luxury, confronting audiences with themes of exposure, survival, and resilience. Embedded in an exploration of the body’s vulnerability, both physical and emotional, Nakazato's work questioned how garments protect not just our skin, but our humanity. 

Through fractured ceramics, concealed faces, and the delicate force of hand-crafted forms, he presented a hauntingly beautiful vision of what it means to be fragile, and why that very fragility might be our greatest strength.

 “In the beginning of the collection, it is important for me to travel to get inspiration,” Nakazato said. “Travelling and feeling different environments, to see how people are living there and the relationship between nature and the human body.”

This season, the genesis of the collection lay not in the atelier but in the frozen wilderness of Finnish Lapland. There, in temperatures well below freezing, Nakazato collaborated with contemporary dancer and artist Evgeny Ganeev on a nude photoshoot. “I travelled to Northern Finland this time together with the dancer. He took off his clothing in this cold environment. Without protection, surviving is very difficult. So, taking off the garments lets people recognize how important garments are for the human body. That’s what I wanted to express.”

“At the beginning of a collection, it is important to travel, to get inspiration, feel different places, see how people live and the relationship between nature and the human body”

Nakazato's fragile, chainmail

armour made from ceramics. 

Photograph: Jay Zoo

The images of bare human skin exposed to the elements became both the emotional core and visual motif of the collection, enlarged and embedded in the tailored silhouettes shown on the runway. 

Long jackets and columnar gowns bearing giant photographic prints of Ganeev’s hands, positioned as an act of remembrance, a protective gesture against oblivion. Created with Nakazato’s signature precision, many of the designs were cut on diagonals or overlapping vest-like panels, suggestive of both deconstruction and protection.

But it was the "fragile armour" that carried Nakazato’s message most powerfully. A chain-mail-inspired dress clinked softly with every step, its metallic surface glinting like weathered silvery gold.

“It looks like metal armour,” Nakazato explained, “but actually it is made from ceramics. So, it is a very sensitive material, easy to break. You can’t fight using this, which is the whole point.”

In this layering of contradiction, hard and soft, protective and vulnerable, Nakazato offers a complex portrait of the human condition. Masks, too, became part of this armour. Ceramic face coverings concealed the identity of the wearer while revealing something deeper about the need for protection. “In a time of facial recognition and AI image generation, revealing one’s face is a form of deep vulnerability,” he said. For Nakazato, covering the face is not about hiding, but resisting. 

“In a time of facial recognition and AI image generation, revealing one’s face is a form of deep vulnerability” 

The designer's masks are not

about hiding, but resisting

the invasions of technology. 

Photograph: Jay Zoo

“Clothing is non-verbal communication,” he reflected. “But there are invisible messages and narratives behind the clothing. I believe in this power of the garment.” The hand-knitted metal chains crocheted with mohair were perhaps the most poetic embodiment of this concept. 

By combining the softness of yarn with the weight and rigidity of metal, Nakazato aligned traditional femininity with quiet rebellion. “So protective and unprotective is the meaning of this collection,” he said. “A conflation of opposite meanings.”

Sustainability remained at the heart of Nakazato’s vision. “It is not new,” he noted, “but we are continuously using the digital print dry fibre technology, upcycling with the Kenyan second-hand clothes. Three years ago I travelled to Kenya and brought the second-hand clothes back to Japan, and we are still using those materials.” 

He also continues to work with Spiber's Brewed Protein material: “The black and white parts of the garments all use brewed protein. Almost every look has that material.” 

The collection's hues ~ ghostly whites, glacial greys, and iridescent transparencies with dashes of brilliant sea greens and blues ~ were drawn from the Arctic terrain. Some fabrics rippled like river ice; others layered like gills or cracked porcelain. The silhouettes, skeletal, aquatic, alien, seemed not so much worn as grown. 

“It is very difficult to continue couture brands. But I believe in craftsmanship. This is not mass production. I think couture is not just for five or ten years, but forever"

Yuima Nakazato pours black ink 

over the white-enveloped dancer.

Photograph: Andrea Heinsohn

As the show closed, Nakazato and Ganeev took to the runway beneath  ceramic bowls suspended above. One by one, the designer tipped ink from each bowl onto a white cloth draped over Ganeev’s body. 

As the ink spread, Ganeev twisted on the ground, embodying transformation through pain. He rose at last, trailing strips of now-stained cloth that mirrored the torn and floating elements of the garments.

“It is very difficult to continue couture brands,” Nakazato admitted. “But I believe in craftsmanship. This is not mass production. Hand crafting is very important. I think couture is not just for five or ten years, but forever. So, to continue is important.”

By revisiting the birth of clothing, when humanity first clothed itself against nature’s indifference, Nakazato has reframed couture as something vital. Not a luxury, but a language. Not a performance, but a plea. In confronting fragility so honestly, through ceramics that fracture, through masks that shield, through hands that knit, Yuima Nakazato reminds us that protection begins with the recognition of what we stand to lose. And that clothing, in its purest form, still carries the power to help us survive. 

Scroll down to see more highlights from Yuima Nakazato's collection by Andrea Heinsohn & Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Andrea Heinsohn

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Andrea Heinsohn

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Andrea Heinsohn

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph; Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Andrea Heinsohn

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Andrea Heinsohn

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Andrea Heinsohn

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Andrea Heinsohn

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Andrea Heinsohn

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter, 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Jay Zoo

Yuima Nakazato, Glacier, Autumn-Winter 2025/2026, Paris Haute Couture. Photograph: Andrea Heinsohn

Bayeux Tapestry Set to Return to the UK: In Medieval Times it was like an Immersive Art Installation

Close up of the Bayeux tapestry. Shutterstock/sogood_patrick 

By Alexandra Makin

The Bayeux tapestry is set to return to the UK for the first time in almost 1,000 years. One of the most important cultural artefacts in the world, it is to be displayed at the British Museum from September 2026.

Its significance for history is unquestioned – but you may not think of the Bayeux tapestry as a work of art. Sure, you may recognise it from your history lessons or political campaigns. Maybe you like embroidery and textiles or know about it because of the modern versions it inspired – think the Game of Thrones tapestry or the Great Tapestry of Scotland. Perhaps you are an early medievalist and use it as comparative evidence.

For me, this now famous wall hanging is undoubtedly art, created with great skill. What fascinates me as a textile archaeologist is how early medieval people saw and understood the tapestry.

First, let’s contextualise it a little. The hanging is not a woven tapestry but an embroidery, stitched in wool threads on nine panels of linen fabric that were then sewn together. It was made in around 1070, probably in England. Nobody knows how big it originally was, but it now measures 68.3 metres long by approximately 70cm high.

Starting at the end of Edward the Confessor’s reign (1042-1066), the tapestry’s comic book narrative tells a vivid, very modern story of the struggle for power and the English throne – and the brutal means William of Normandy (1028-1087) used to get it.

It follows the highs and lows of Harold Godwinson, Edward the Confessor’s brother-in-law, who became king after Edward’s death in 1066, and his eventual downfall at the Battle of Hastings.

The end of the hanging, and therefore the story, is now missing but it was probably the triumphal coronation of William. It would have provided a mirror in symmetry to the first scene, which depicts an enthroned Edward.

Sensory archaeology of the tapestry

Today, the hanging is famous because it is the only surviving example of its kind. But documentary sources from early medieval England demonstrate that this type of wall hanging was a popular way for families to depict their stories and great deeds.

A good example is the Byrhtnoth wall hanging, which Æthelflæd, the wife of an Anglo-Saxon Ealdorman of Essex Byrhtnoth, gave to the church in Ely after he was killed in 991. We know that the Normans also understood these storytelling wall hangings because Abbot Baudri of Bourgueil (c. 1050-1130) expertly incorporated such a device in a poem he wrote to honour Adela of Blois (c. 1067-1137), the daughter of William the Conqueror and Matilda (c. 1031-1083).

The Bayeux tapestry was, therefore, an obvious way to tell people about the downfall of the English and the rise of the Normans. But this is not all. The early medieval population of Britain loved riddles, multilayered meanings and hidden messages. Evidence survives in pieces like the gold buckle from the 7th-century Sutton Hoo ship burial, the early 8th-century Franks Casket and the 10th-century Book of Exeter. So it is not surprising that people today have argued for hidden messages in the Bayeux tapestry.

While these concepts are interesting, so much emphasis has been placed on them and the role the embroiderers played in creating them, that other ways of early medieval viewing and understanding have been ignored.

Early medieval society viewed its world through the senses. By using sensory archaeology, a theoretical approach that helps researchers understand how past societies interacted with their worlds through sight, touch, taste, smell and sound, we can imagine how people encountering the Bayeux tapestry would have connected with and understood it.

A guide to the story depicted on the Bayeux tapestry.

Art historian Linda Neagley has argued that pre-Renaissance people interacted with art visually, kinaesthetically (sensory perception through bodily movement) and physically. The Bayeux tapestry would have been hung at eye level to enable this. So if we take expert in Anglo-Saxon culture Gale Owen-Crocker’s idea that the tapestry was originally hung in a square with certain scenes facing each other, people would have stood in the centre. That would make it an 11th-century immersive space with scenes corresponding and echoing each other, drawing the viewer’s attention, playing on their senses and understanding of the story they thought they knew.

If we imagine ourselves entering that space, we move from a cooler, stone-hewn room into a warmer, softer area, encased in linen and wool, their smell tickling our noses. Outside sounds would be deadened, the movement of people softened, voices quietened. People would move from one scene to another, through the open doors of the stage-like buildings where the action inside can be seen and watched, boldly or surreptitiously. The view might be partially blocked by others and their reactions and gesticulations as they engaged with and discussed what they saw.

The bright colours of the embroidery would have made a kaleidoscope of colour, a blur that defined itself the closer people got to the work. The boldness and three-dimensionality of the stitching helped to draw them into the action while any movement of the hanging brought the imagery alive.

Here are the main characters in the room with you, telling you their story, inviting you to join them on their journeys of victory or doom.

As onlookers discussed what they saw, or read the inscriptions, they interacted with the embroidered players, giving them voice and enabling them to join the conversation. If the hanging formed part of a banquet then the smell of food, clanking of dishes and movement of the fabric and stitchwork as servants passed would have enhanced the experience. The feasting scenes dotted throughout the hanging would be echoed in the hall.

I believe the Bayeux tapestry was not simply an inanimate art object to be viewed and read from the outside. It was an immersive retelling of the end of an era and the start of something new. When you entered its space you became part of that story, sensorially reliving it, keeping it alive. To me, this is the true power of this now famous embroidery.

Beyond the canon

As part of the Rethinking the Classics series, we’re asking our experts to recommend a book or artwork that tackles similar themes to the canonical work in question, but isn’t (yet) considered a classic itself. Here is Alexandra Makin’s suggestion:

The ITV series Unforgotten, now in its sixth season (with a seventh on the way) gripped me from the start. It follows a team of British police detectives as they track down the killers of people whose bodies have been recently found, but who were murdered years before.

As they do, we, the viewer, are given access to the characters’ often emotional stories. We are brought into their sphere and experience their pain, distress, happiness, horror. We get unrivalled access, eventually, to the motives for their seemingly strange actions. As with the Bayeux tapestry, we are swallowed up in their worlds. This is achieved by Chris Lang’s fabulous writing, the cinematography and the exquisite acting.

Together these elements make a whole, opening a window, immersing you in a world full of powerful sensory engagements. For me, this is classic art in the making.

Alexandra Makin, Third Century Research Fellow, Manchester Metropolitan University

How strawberries and Cream were a Rare and Exciting Treat for Victorians Before Becoming a Wimbledon Icon

Strawberries and Cream by Raphaelle Peale (1816) National Gallery of Art. Cover picture by Jay Zoo for DAM.  

By Rebecca Earle

Wimbledon is all about strawberries and cream (and of course tennis). The club itself describes strawberries and cream as “a true icon of The Championships”.

While a meal at one of the club’s restaurants can set you back £130 or more, a bowl of the iconic dish is a modest £2.70 (up from £2.50 in 2024 – the first price rise in 15 years). In 2024 visitors munched their way through nearly 2 million berries.

Strawberries and cream has a long association with Wimbledon. Even before lawn tennis was added to its activities, the All England Croquet Club (now the All England Lawn Tennis & Croquet Club) was serving strawberries and cream to visitors. They would have expected no less. Across Victorian Britain, strawberries and cream was a staple of garden parties of all sorts. Private affairs, political fundraisers and county cricket matches all typically served the dish.

Alongside string bands and games of lawn tennis, strawberries and cream were among the pleasures that Victorians expected to encounter at a fête or garden party. As a result, one statistician wrote in the Dundee Evening Telegraph in 1889, Londoners alone consumed 12 million berries a day over the summer. At that rate, he explained, if strawberries were available year-round, Britons would spend 24 times more on strawberries than on missionary work, and twice as much as on education.

But of course strawberries and cream were not available year-round. They were a delightful treat of the summer and the delicate berries did not last. Victorian newspapers, such as the Illustrated London News, complained that even the fruits on sale in London were a sad, squashed travesty of those eaten in the countryside, to say nothing of London’s cream, which might have been watered down.

Wimbledon’s lawn tennis championships were held in late June or early July – in the midst, in other words, of strawberry season.

Eating strawberries and cream had long been a distinctly seasonal pleasure. Seventeenth-century menu plans for elegant banquets offered strawberries, either with cream or steeped (rather deliciously, and I recommend you try this) in rose water, white wine, and sugar – as a suitable dish for the month of June.

Strawberries and Cream by Robert Gemmell Hutchison (1855–1936). National Galleries of Scotland, CC BY-NC

They were, in the view of the 17th-century gardener John Parkinson, “a cooling and pleasant dish in the hot summer season”. They were, in short, a summer food. That was still the case in the 1870s, when the Wimbledon tennis championship was established.

This changed dramatically with the invention of mechanical refrigeration. From the late 19th century, new technologies enabled the global movement of chilled and frozen foods across vast oceans and spaces.

Domestic ice-boxes and refrigerators followed. These modern devices were hailed as freeing us from the tyranny of seasons. As the Ladies Home Journal magazine proclaimed triumphantly in 1929: “Refrigeration wipes out seasons and distances … We grow perishable products in the regions best suited to them instead of being forced to stick close to the large markets.” Eating seasonally, or locally, was a tiresome constraint and it was liberating to be able to enjoy foods at whatever time of year we desired.

As a result, points out historian Susan Friedberg, our concept of “freshness” was transformed. Consumers “stopped expecting fresh food to be just-picked or just-caught or just-killed. Instead, they expected to find and keep it in the refrigerator.”

Strawberries and cream being enjoyed at Wimbledon. bonchan/Shutterstock

Today, when we can buy strawberries year-round, we have largely lost the excitement that used to accompany advent of the strawberry season. Colour supplements and supermarket magazines do their best to drum up some enthusiasm for British strawberries, but we are far from the days when poets could rhapsodise about dairy maids “dreaming of their strawberries and cream” in the month of May.

Strawberries and cream, once a “rare service” enjoyed in the short months from late April to early July, are now a season-less staple, available virtually year round from the global networks of commercial growers who supply Britain’s food. The special buzz about Wimbledon’s iconic dish of strawberries and cream is a glimpse into an earlier time, and reminds us that it was not always so.

Rebecca Earle, Professor of History, University of Warwick

Sea Change: Iris van Herpen's New Collection Tells a Tale of Couture, Creation and Connection in Paris

Iris van Herpen wanted to create coral-like forms from fire-flamed brass that is hand-made into diaphanous clouds that hover around model Andrea Gutierrez, Photograph (above) and cover picture by Jay Zoo. 

Amid rising seas and vanishing reefs, Iris van Herpen’s Autumn/Winter 2025–26 couture collection Sympoiesis asks us to reconsider our place in nature, not as distant observers, but as part of a shared system. The Dutch designer transformed her runway creations into symbols of a living oceanic organism: delicate, intelligent, and interconnected, where algae illuminate dresses and textiles are like coral, fusing biodesign and marine science, the show was a sensory study about how we are all connected. Story by Jeanne-Marie Cilento and Andrea Heinsohn. Photographs by Jay Zoo 

Translucent organza in hues of

blue and green, like the ocean. 

Photograph: Jay Zoo 

THIS season in Paris, Iris van Herpen didn’t just present a couture collection, she mapped an entire fashion ecosystem. Called Sympoiesis, she unveiled her new work during Haute Couture Week, Autumn-Winter 2025/26, as a manifesto on the fragility of the ocean. 

Drawing on marine biology, biofabrication, movement, scent, and light, the Dutch designer transformed the runway into a thoughtful meditation on connectedness: between humans and nature, art and science, past and future. 

From a gown inhabited by millions of bioluminescent algae to kinetic wings that fluttered like underwater lifeforms, the collection asked what it means to design not just for the body, but with the world around it.

“The collection is a collaboration with nature itself,” van Herpen said. “In this time of ecological emergency and biodiversity loss, biodesign invites us to rethink the way we 'use' materials, to visualise a future where all human design is not just inspired by nature but integrated with it.

"It highlights the interdependence between humans and nature, viewing the body not as isolated, but as an ecosystem, where fashion becomes alive, responsive, and connected with the natural world.”

Drawing on marine biology, biofabrication, movement, scent, and light, the Dutch designer  wanted to evoke interdependence, between humans and nature, art and science

The immersive performance

created with lighting artist

Nick Verstand at the show

Photograph: Jay Zoo. 

The show opened with a performance in collaboration with Dutch light artist Nick Verstand. A dancer, dressed in a whisper-thin Japanese fabric, moved within a chamber of laser-projected light. Each gesture summoned organic, flowing shapes, like phosphorescence disturbed by a swimmer’s hand. 

The performance invoked the pioneering spirit of Loïe Fuller, whose late-19th-century experiments with fabric, light, and choreography paved the way for what van Herpen now renders through aerospace textiles and motion-triggered projection. 

“She seems to be in dialogue with the forces of nature in her performances,” said van Herpen. “In my eyes she was an alchemist of light  and textiles, with which she merged dance into sculpture.

“The dancer becomes morphogenic and more-than-human, seeming to shimmer in and out of perception, often being swallowed entirely into this bioluminescent creature,” she added. “The show opening is an emotionally charged performance on how we have drained the life out of our oceans. It is a call for protection."

Then came the most talked-about moment of the night: a model stepping out in the design incorporating the bioluminescent algae. The collaboration with biodesigner Chris Bellamy produced what is likely couture’s first living garment. The algae, pyrocystis lunula, emit light in response to movement. 

“The show opening is an emotionally charged performance on how we have drained the life out of our oceans. It is a call for protection."

The evocative, organic designs

created by van Herpen, are 

both elegant and futuristic.  

Photograph: Jay Zoo

Months of lab cultivation, using saltwater baths and circadian-light cycling, created a gel-based ecosystem for the microorganisms, which pulsed gently inside a translucent bodice. The design was housed off-runway in a climate-controlled biosphere designed to simulate oceanic conditions. This wasn’t a dress meant to be worn; it was meant to be cared for.

That distinction was crucial.Van Herpen isn’t proposing living fashion as novelty. Instead, the algae look raises questions about mutual dependency, fragility, and what it might mean to cultivate garments as ecosystems, ones that breathe, grow, and respond.

The designer has long worked at the intersection of natural systems and scientific inquiry. But Sympoiesis deepened that engagement through its conceptual grounding in James Lovelock’s Gaia hypothesis, which views the Earth’s biosphere as a single, self-regulating organism. 

The ocean, in this theory, is not a backdrop or even a resource, but a vital, co-creative force. “We can’t view nature as something separate from us,” van Herpen said. “We’re entangled, biologically, materially, emotionally.” This ethos emerged through form and material. One standout look, created with kinetic artist Casey Curran, featured delicate wings made from golden coil filaments that rippled in slow, synchronized movements, like the pulsing of jellyfish or the respiration of coral. The design was based on microscopic imaging of bioluminescent plankton.

“In this time of ecological emergency, biodesign invites us to rethink the way we 'use' materials, to visualise a future where human design is not just inspired by nature but integrated with it"

The sinuous gown created from

Spiber's Brewed Protein was a

highlight of the show in Paris.

Photograph; Jay Zoo

Van Herpen’s signature mix of cutting-edge materials and fluid shapes continued throughout the collection. Carbon fibre boning mimicked moon jellies and sonar waves. Silk, draped over wave-shaped casts and coated with resin, became suspended breakers. In another look, Brewed Protein, a plant-based biomaterial developed by Japanese biotech company Spiber, was laser-cut and bonded to sheer organza to create coral-like forms.

Perhaps the most compelling example of Sympoiesis' fusion of design and material innovation came in one of the collection’s two bridal looks, also made with Spiber. Their fibre is a lab-engineered material based on proteins found in spider silk and cashmere but produced through microbial fermentation. 

"Biomimicry is always present in Spiber's approach, and that's really similar to our methodology," explained van Herpen. "Fusing biology with innovation, recreating the way nature makes a material, starting from a protein. They were able to translate a complex technology to meet the needs of designers and create something truly wearable, which is a rare quality."

The wedding gown combined sheer organza and the Spiber protein, laser-cut into hundreds of crescent shapes, then dyed in shades of soft coral and ivory. The panels were heat-sealed to create a shimmering exoskeleton, while illusion tulle carried delicate coral-like embellishments that spiraled into a weightless train “The fabric floats on the skin like it’s alive,” Van Herpen said. “It has a softness and lightness that can’t be replicated.”

Each of the show’s eighteen looks engaged with the ocean thematically and structurally. Spiber's Brewed Protein appeared again in translucent constructions, while handcrafted shoes made in collaboration with Rombaut featured cascading metal halos that echoed sonar rings.

"'Ocean' by David Attenborough by reminded me that the future isn’t only about fear. It’s about potential. Healing is possible" 

The subtle hues of peach and

plum were created from

gradient-dyed fabrics.

Photograph: Andrea Heinsohn

Gradient-dyed gowns transitioned from peach hues to a darker plum. “The silhouettes dissolve in motion, as if painted by currents beneath the surface,” said van Herpen. In the gravity-defying Noosphere look, painterly shades of green and blue washed across featherlight carbon fibre panels, forming a silhouette like a drifting sea creature.

A bespoke fragrance by Francis Kurkdjian added another sensory dimension to the experience. Diffused as each model stepped onto the runway, the scent evoked driftwood, mineral salt, and bioluminescence.

“Perfume is an invisible wave, a breath of the soul that may prolong the movement of a garment,” said Kurkdjian. “For Iris van Herpen, I wanted an olfactory score that extends the poetry of her silhouettes, a fragrance like a full immersion: deep, aquatic, familiar yet almost unreal, surreal."

Van Herpen credits the documentary Ocean by David Attenborough with influencing the emotional architecture of the collection. The film’s emphasis on both ecological destruction and nature’s capacity for recovery resonated.

“It reminded me that the future isn’t only about fear,” van Herpen said. “It’s about potential. Healing is possible." That optimism infuses the Sympoiesis collection. The title itself, meaning "making-with," captures a new mode of design, one that operates not in dominion over nature, but in dialogue with it.

In a Paris couture week already full of spectacle and celebrity, vân Herpen’s show offered something else: a rare invitation to slow down and engage on a deeper level. Here, couture was not just image-making but exploring a different future. And in Sympoiesis, the designer shows us that the world we build next depends on how we choose to relate ~ to other living beings, to the environment, including our oceans, and to each other.

A-Listers and Umbrellas: Star Power and Sharp Style at Celine’s Spring/Summer 2026 Show in Paris

Naomi Watts in gingham and black leather at the Celine SS26 show in Paris. Cover picture by Jay Zoo for DAM.

Despite gloomy skies and a steady downpour, the energy around Celine’s Paris headquarters was anything but dreary as fashion and celebrity guests arrived to witness Michael Rider’s first collection for the house. Set in the brand’s historic 17th-century atelier, the show marked the beginning of a new chapter one that unfolded with precision, confidence, and an impressive guest list, writes Ambrogio de Lauro

V from the K-Pop band BTS was one

of the stars in the Celine front row. 

AMONG the first to cause a stir at the debut of Michael Rider's Celine show in Paris, was Kim Taehyung, known as V, of BTS, who arrived early, drawing excited crowds. His appearance, marking his return to the spotlight, set the tone for an event that mixed anticipation with star-studded glamour. Fellow Korean actors Park Bo-gum and Suzy Bae joined him shortly after, creating a flashpoint for the camera-wielding scrum gathered at the venue’s entrance. 

Inside the rain-slicked courtyard, familiar faces took their places on the sandstone-colored benches. Naomi Watts arrived dressed in a polished yet playful look that matched the tone of the collection ~ structured, refined, and with unexpected flourishes. 

Canadian actors Emily Hampshire and Dan Levy shared a front-row moment, clearly enjoying the scene, while Lily McInerny and rising French-Canadian talent Théodore Pellerin brought a fresh edge to the guest lineup. Industry veterans and tastemakers, including Alanis Morissette, Kristen Wiig, Dev Hynes, Jerrod Carmichael, and design heavyweights like Jonathan Anderson and Raf Simons, rounded out the crowd. 

The collection itself reflected a thoughtful evolution of the house’s past codes. Rider introduced a blend of tailoring, athletic references, and tactile playfulness, merging high-gloss polish with offbeat flourishes. Men’s and women’s pieces were shown together, with close-fitting silhouettes, sculptural shapes, and statement accessories that emphasized Celine’s new direction. 

Bags, jewellery, and sporty classics were reimagined with a touch of wit and a nod to function, underscoring the designer’s instinct for balancing commercial appeal with sharp design. Though the rain soaked the sandstone and streaked the silken canopy above, it did little to dampen the excitement. With a strong debut and a room full of influential eyes watching closely, Rider made it clear that Celine is entering a vibrant new phase, one where heritage meets bold vision of renewal. 

Scroll down to see more guests at the Celine Spring/Summer show in Paris