Last week, all I had in my head was one voice. It was a constant, inescapable, go-to-bed-then-wake-up-and-it’s-still-there voice saying, “Run to the light.” It’s not because I am a closet Poltergeist fan (saw it once; frightened the bejesus out of me) but because the first five days of spring-summer 2027 shows in Paris have done nothing but run to the light.
Gauzy, ethereal, floaty, airy clothing abounded alongside diaphanous, draped dresses which moved with the breeze (fashion this week has loved an outdoors show; very brave in October) and translucent and slippery slivers of skirts, often paired with lingerie-esque camisoles or (the Charvet effect continues) crisp shirts. Designers’ love of levity and brevity might be down to the overwhelming, omnipresent heaviness of the world, but, equally, it could also just be that the enormous, weighty pressure of their jobs right now means that they themselves are running to the light like never before. Who could blame them? It’s tough out there.