Baroness Ann Demeulemeester, one of our time's most quietly influential designers, built a world of style between shadow and light. A founding member of the Antwerp Six, she helped rewrite what it meant to be a fashion designer in the 1980s and redefined what elegance could look like for decades after.

Her work aims to understand restraint, poetry, melancholy, and emotional intensity, all dressed in black without raising their voices. This isn’t a story about trends. It’s a story about intention.

It started on a random Sunday evening in 2024. In my dark room, nestled under my warm covers, I closed 12 tabs full of information about culture, music, and fashion. Thoughts played with my sleep, and my eyes shut every five seconds, a sign to put down my laptop, blanket over my head, and drift off to dreamland. I couldn't resist; my brain was in overdrive, and I had to finish everything. I wandered through the pins on Pinterest, saving outfits I would most likely never wear or recreate.

You've probably seen it before: glossy magazine spreads filled with anime motifs, kimono sleeves, and shiny hanbok-style skirts. Or the latest fast fashion collection with "Asian-inspired" prints, modeled by someone who has never been to Asia. In recent years,  Asian fashion has become shorthand for something sleek, futuristic, and exotic. But here's the problem: that's only scratching the surface; it often misses the point entirely.

Somewhere between romantic comedies, Sunday family get-togethers, and the endless stream of Instagram posts these days called "soft launch," a quiet but persistent message creeps in: being single means something's missing. Your friends are going on vacation with their partners, friendship dates are turning into boyfriend/husband dates, and you feel like a third wheel when you meet up with a friend and they're there. Let's be clear: you're not missing anything. You'll think your life is still loading, buffering—so to speak—until someone drops in your DMs or swipes right on Hinge. What if that narrative is not only outdated, but also downright wrong?

Almost everyone dreams of it: stepping into the elevator, the doors opening, and seeing them milling about like a herd. "Where's the beauty product?" "Who saw the invitation to this week's fashion show?" or "Get the car ready, we're going to assist a photoshoot." These are familiar phrases in the fashion world. A world that's accessible but complex to turn into your life's work. These days, I see more fashion enthusiasts who want to turn their hobby into a job. And don't be fooled, I do too. I dream of waking up, wearing my best outfits, and seeing what's on my agenda. Should I write an article about a specific topic today or go backstage to report on the atmosphere? Unfortunately, this isn't my reality.

When art and fashion come together, they create a gallery of living artworks you can admire for hours. At Paris Haute Couture Fashion Week, that's the goal. Many see Haute Couture Week as when fashion takes bold risks and steals the spotlight with over-the-top flair. This year, the spotlight was on fashion houses Balenciaga (Demna's latest collection) and Maison Margiela (Glenn Martens' first collection). Setting the tone for the event: innovation and experimentation.

The line between fashion and home décor is vanishing, and It-Girl Interiors is taking over. Influencers known for their style are now shaping how we decorate, turning living rooms and bedrooms into curated expressions of their aesthetic. This shift matters because for Gen Z, style isn’t just what we wear; it’s how we live. And the homes of today’s trendsetters leave an imprint far beyond Instagram.

For nearly four decades, Dries van Noten built something rare in fashion: a respected, successful brand without the trappings of excess or spectacle. His creations drew from art, travel, and nature, captured in rich prints, harmonious colors, and subtle layering. He never chased fame or cultivated a personal brand. Instead, he quietly left his clothes and his deep respect for craft.

Phoebe Philo quietly revolutionised luxury fashion. In an industry that often valued spectacle or sex appeal, she offered something different: clothes designed by women, for women, with intelligence, simplicity and purpose. Her tenure at Chloé and Céline gave us no trend cycles but timeless uniforms of self respect. She taught the fashion world that power can be understated, and feminist thought can be worn on a sleeve.

Black models have never been more visible in fashion. You see them gracing the covers of major magazines, starring in luxury brand campaigns, and walking on the biggest runways from New York to Milan. The visuals say progress, the presence feels overdue. And yet, many are beginning to ask: is this true inclusion or just strategic optics?