Spring / Summer 2025 Men’s Paris Fashion Week Report

Spring / Summer 2025 Men’s Paris Fashion Week Report: Shows

Paris was merciful to men’s fashion week, which concluded this past Sunday. The weather was fine, and the city was strangely uncrowded, the tourists spooked by the mess of the upcoming Olympics, and the greedy hospitality industry that jacked up prices in anticipation of a flood of moneyed visitors was forced to eat its hat.

Overall it was again a fine season, one in which the designers we think of as creative were creative, and others, well. It seems like fashion has splintered into various silos that don’t really interact with each other. Or maybe I just don’t care anymore about what the corporate brands do; whatever it is, it’s not fashion. The glitzy monobrand stores have become so interchangeable that they hardly registered on my radar in both Florence and Paris as I walked past by them on my way to one appointment or another. The scandalously overpriced merch they peddle to the tasteless nouveau riche is a universe that does not intersect with mine, and I am content with this state of affairs. On the other hand, I must say that my lack of interest in even window shopping slightly alarms me, as it used to be both fun and a part of staying professionally informed. I have visited precisely one store this season in Paris, the Broken Arm, and only because I had to pick up a magazine and wanted to get a coffee. I quickly browsed and quickly left, and I cannot say that I saw much that was exciting, except their record selection although I’ve been digging Namacheko as of late. I am pretty sure I can count the number of stores with a vision and a point of view on one hand. By the time designers’ collections are broken up and watered down for consumption all magic seems to go out of them. The head of one big showroom told me in frustration that buyers will need to stop looking over their shoulders at one another and start thinking of what it is that they want to say. I could not agree more. 

Onto the shows, then. My first was Lemaire, and it was a splendid outing, full of looks that bespoke a quiet confidence. The house has really grown into its own, with an unmistakable look; a loose silhouette with carefully calibrated proportions that keep any hints of sloppiness at bay. As a matter of fact, the Lemaire aesthetic is so established that one gets thrown when it is invaded by something unexpected, like a couple of overtly sexy, body con looks that made little sense. Lemaire is best when its sexual allure is hinted at, a sexy librarian is far more attractive because there is something left to imagination there.

At Undercover, Jun Takahashi showed an etherial collection straight out of his beautifully warped mind, dressing an imaginary tribe in clothes of light linens and cottons to a prerecorded video soundtrack by the Australian band Glass Beams, which Takahashi discovered on YouTube. Takahashi has been exploring more gender fluid forms, the fact that he does not trumpet, but that can be seen in the shapes and the silhouette he proposed, such as jackets flowing trails and long skirts. Some garments, executed in a desert color palette, carried the abstract artwork of the Italian painter Robert Bosisio, others had small patches with Takahashi’s own art and a phrase from the punk legend Johnny Rotten, “You’re made to feel ugly, and I made ugly beautiful just by persistence,” which might as well be a motto for Undercover. 

A friend of mine says that when a truly creative person gets to a certain stage in life, they start conversing with god, meaning that they have gone so far into their own universe that the relationship with the world become tenuous. I have a feeling that at 62 Rick Owens is entering that stage. He has recently mused on aging and mortality and the dismal state of the world that is hard to comprehend for anyone in possession of any modicum of common sense and decency. The orbit of Owens’s runway propositions increasingly swerves away from things on the ground; just witness the number of #meninrickowens outfits whose wearers look ridiculous, since they lack the character required to pull off the outré stuff that comes out of Owens’s mind.

The show that Owens put on last Thursday could also be put under the “conversing with god” rubric. It reminded us all about the purpose of a fashion show by putting on a spectacle of epic proportions, inspired by the epics of early cinema that have impressed him as a child and are a source of perennial inspiration. It was a meditation on the nature of the fashion spectacle. Some spectacles are used to highlight the clothes, others, much more often these days, to distract one from the fact that the clothes are mediocre. In this case, the clothes seemed somewhat beside the point – we have seen those proposition form Owens many times before. But as costume, these were magnificent. The 200-strong model procession included many fashion students from Parisian fashion schools, as well as a gymnast pyramid that recalled the early Soviet parades in Moscow (Russian Constructivism is another source of inspiration that Owens likes to mine). It was all awe-inspiring and impressive. I only feel bad for the store buyers, whose concerns are inevitably more practical. But, hey, that’s what they signed up for. 

After the Rick Owens show was that of the Chinese designer Sean Suen. I’ve been impressed with the brand’s past few seasons, but this time the sartorial experiments in modern tailoring that Suen can excel at felt flat, and failed to cohere into something more than an assortment of garments with quirky details. 

My Friday started, as usual, with Junya Watanabe, whose show, especially in its opening looks, was a meditation on the Canadian tuxedo. There were denims with tuxedo details, and patchworks of tartan and lace, and there were cottons printed with denim trompe l’oeil. There was another iteration of a collaboration with Inneraum, this time a backpack, and a fantastic tote, and a slew of other collaborations that Watanabe is so good at, including an outstanding C.P. Company parka. Otherwise, not much has changed; Watanabe doing Watanabe, dicing and splicing, reworking and recutting. Watanabe is pretty consistent in his menswear and has a following; a cult designer without a cult.

Rei Kawakubo is a cult designer with a cult, and like with Rick Owens, it doesn’t matter what she puts on the runway; someone will buy and wear it. Hers was yet another avant-garde meditation on a suit, with giant ruffles, and fabric-stuffed polyester gauze. The show notes proposed to see at The Hope of Light. “I want to hope for some light, even if very small,” she said in the notes. Kawakubo, light? What world are living in?

My next day began with a show of Kolor, designed by a Watanabe alum, Junichi Abe. This was a quietly impressive collection of loose coats and jackets, with carefully matched colors and fabrics that is Abe’s signature. Cotton coats were layered on top of nylon ones, and roomy blazers were matched with slim pants. There were also lovely flowing coats and dresses for women.

If there is a leitmotif to the shows I choose to go in Paris, it’s Japan (with the exception of Yohji Yamamoto, which no longer extends a mens show invitation to StyleZeitgeist.) At Y-3 the same evening, the brand leaned into the “Y” of its name, which stands for “Yamamoto,” and showed us what the words “sports couture” mean. There were long black flowing skirts, loose gabardine blazers, and front cargo pocket pants matched with a red jacket, that were straight out of Yamamoto’s playbook, as well as an impressive women’s top assembled from black fabric rhomboids. Of course there was also Goretex, and numbers in which black and navy and black and red were spliced perfectly together. This was the first runway presentation Y-3 has done since the pandemic, and if there exists a question of whether sportswear can be elevated, the answer is yes.

I will never tire of saying that it’s the Japanese that make Paris look good these days, as the more established brands are now joined by newer ones, such as Masu and Taakk. But it is Sacai that has become the perennial highlight of the week. Chitose Abe is keenly aware that a signature can devolve into a shtick, and in this collection she continued toning down the codes that have established her signature, the mixing of various garment elements and fabrics. She concentrated more on the silhouette, which this time centered on exaggerated shoulders, and it all gelled together beautifully.

The fashion I fell in love with was not only Japanese but also Belgian. On Saturday night we bid farewell to one of the Antwerp Six, Dries Van Noten. It was emotional, to say the least, and the emotion began well before the show, when I realized just how many people showed up to celebrate Van Noten’s last collection. There were Van Noten’s early Antwerp cohort, Ann Demeulemeester (and her husband) and Walter Van Beirendonck. There was Thom Browne and Andrew Bolton. There were former assistants who have gone on to form their own brands, like An Vandevorst and Merryll Rogge. There were pretty much all major fashion editors, many travelled to Paris just for the show. Mercifully, there were few celebs, such as the Walking Dead actor Norman Reedus.

The show/fete was held in a huge hanger in the suburbs of Paris. We hung out in the front room for about an hour and a half, chatting away, savoring this bittersweet moment. Many people wore Dries. And the show itself, on a runway made of silver, was assured and mature, with a good mix of Driesness that has become an indispensable part of fashion over his 38-year-long career. Just to mess with my emotions further, the soundtrack was David Bowie’s “Sound and Vision.” We were back in town by midnight, tired but happy. I ran into Van Noten at the showroom two days later, and he seemed in good spirts. From what I’ve gathered, he will continue to work as a special projects consultant, but if anyone deserves a contented retirement, it is he. What we witnessed, though, was the end of an era, as the last independent greats relinquish the stage, and the corporate forces continue their unstoppable march. What will become of fashion in the next twenty years is anyone’s guess, but for now the future looks rather bleak. 

Spring / Summer 2025 Men’s Paris Fashion Week Report: Showrooms

Besides shows I visited quite a few showrooms. The general mood amongst retailers has been one of caution, which has translated into caution amongst smaller brands. Some, like m.a.+ were absent (Boris Bidjan Saberi has chosen to present his collection at a showroom in Barcelona since the pandemic). Others, which have always stuck to a wardrobe view of dressing with clearly defined codes, have shown little progression. But that has been their modus operandi in any case. 

Here is the conclusion that I come to again and again; if you want excellently made garments, where quality is impeccable, today it is all about small brands. And so, Forme d’Expression again showed impeccable tailoring in crisp linens and cottons. At Label Under Construction it was all about phenomenal fabrics and construction methods that take a keen eye to discern. There was a dress shirt in high quality poplin with a self-edge finish and an intricately constructed placket, a suit made of tightly woven cashmere with narrow lapels and the lines so clean that they barely registered, and of course, the knits that is LUC’s signature product. 

I was happy to be back at Devoa and the Viridi-Anne, two Japanese brands I have not visited in a while. Devoa offered a brilliantly constructed collarless leather jacket with the front zipper set slightly to one side, washed linen zippiered jackets, and egyptian cotton tops that were smooth as silk. The Viridi-Anne, which has taken a techwear turn, offered clothes that were as functional as they were nonchalant, combining natural and manmade fabrics.

There were also some excellent brands at the Tokyo Fashion Showroom, the official showroom of Japan’s fashion body. Irenisa’s new collection was a splendid exercise in quiet excellence, and that of Shin Yakozuka, which I already saw in Tokyo in March, was its wild counterpart.

At K’ANG, the brand I discovered last season, there were reversible coats, one side cut like a formal coat, the reverse like a parka, made with compact, water-resistant cotton, reversible blazers, and tailored pants with a double row of belt loops and adjustable waist. But it was the absolutely killer leather trench with metal buttons, in both bone and black, that stole the show. Kang has gone through a great school of the tailoring avant-garde at Deepti Barth and m.a.+, and it shows. My issue with many young designers is that they don’t know how to make clothes – I wish they would stop looking at Demna and think that all they need to do is some washed black oversized hoody and call it fashion. Kang is not one of those designers. His clothes are impeccably constructed form high quality materials, and his ideas are flawlessly executed.

And that is all. My last thought, which was confirmed at the showrooms, is this; no matter how dispiriting fashion at large is, we will never run out of excellent, desirable clothes. I thought I’d leave you on a high note!