The Taste Test: Why Fashion Can’t Stop Playing With Its Food
Tomatoes, pasta, ice cream, butter. Not exactly the visual language you’d expect from a luxury campaign. And yet, here they are. Lurking between handbags and hemlines, melting down perfume bottles, sliding off the edge of a plate.
The shift isn’t random. Fashion is hungry again—but not for clothes. For sensation. For tension. For that soft, slippery space where want becomes need, and a meal starts to feel like foreplay. This isn’t food styling. It’s seduction strategy.
Fashion and dining, fashion and cocktails. It’s just natural: carefully picked attire and social gathering at the table. These two world intersected each other for a long time. Now they have a baby. A beautiful marketing baby.
Jacquemus Knew You’d Want to Lick It
When Jacquemus first started threading food into his universe, it was cheeky. Cherries. Toasted bread. Butter. Empty pasta plates. But it was never just about aesthetic contrast.
It was about triggering something more primal.
He doesn’t just dress women. He stages them. The set becomes a body. I think we all agree on his genius and understanding of fashion as art. On his sets the food becomes a metaphor. Pleasure, touch, appetite. It all gets served on the same oversized plate. By the time you realize what you’re looking at, you’re already in, with all your senses. That’s the brilliance.
Loewe’s Cult of Tomatoes and Scent Memory
Loewe doesn’t dabble. It commits. For Spring/Summer 2024, the brand introduced a tomato-shaped clutch that landed like a surrealist joke told with a straight face. Rendered in supple calfskin and finished with a wrist strap, the clutch wasn’t designed to charm. It was designed to confuse—and seduce.
Fashion press called it “weirdly desirable.” Jonathan Anderson, ever the provocateur, framed it within a broader campaign that collapsed the boundary between object and organism. Tomatoes weren’t decorative. They were part of the mise-en-scène. Juicy, grown in the sun. Resting in front of Loewe stores with a sense of ceremony usually reserved high end display.
That same visual language carries through Loewe’s candle collection. Released under the creative direction of Anderson and developed with in-house perfumer Nuria Cruelles, the line features vegetal scents that read more like ingredients than luxury notes. Tomato leaves. Thyme. Wasabi. Liquorice. Oregano. Each one bottled in weighty ceramic vessels or modeled on ancient amphorae.
The tomato leaves candle in particular has gained cult status. It smells of sun-warmed vines, crushed green stems, the moment just before ripeness. The fragrance isn’t sweet—it’s sharp. Green to the point of bitter. Earthy to the point of memory. It doesn’t smell like perfume. It smells like time spent in a garden you can’t quite name.
And that’s the strategy. Loewe isn’t creating ambience. It’s manufacturing emotional recall. Whether in leather goods or home scents, the appeal is tactile, vegetal, slightly uncanny. You don’t just look at it. You feel it before you understand why.
The tomato, in Loewe’s world, is more than a motif. It’s a method.
I’m Getting Nostalgic: Moschino’s Fast Food Mirage
In Milan, Autumn/Winter 2014 didn’t open with restraint. It opened with fries. Under Jeremy Scott’s new direction, Moschino sent out a collection that turned the golden arches into a fashion statement. The runway was a collision of red, yellow, and visual satire: sweater dresses shaped like Happy Meals, quilted bags that mimicked burger boxes, phone cases styled as cartons of fries.
It wasn’t parody. It was strategy. Scott tapped into the shared subconscious: childhood cravings, pop iconography, brand worship. The Moschino logo morphed into a warped M, echoing McDonald’s but claiming its own shape. Models walked like mascots in drag, turning fast food into fashion currency.
This wasn’t about nostalgia. It was about consumption. Mass culture reworked for luxury margins. A high-low provocation that didn’t just ask you to look. It asked you to want.
Appetite is Growing
Rhode, SKIMS, YSL, MIU MIU, Nike x Ben & Jerry’s, and many more are into the cross-over between food and fashion. And seems like we love it. I know I do, these are my two favorite things in the world.
Fashion as Synesthesia
There’s a reason food works. It’s not decorative. It’s neurological. We associate food with safety, pleasure, intimacy. But in the right hands, it becomes dangerous. Erotic. Tactile. And completely unforgettable.
That’s what makes these campaigns so effective. They aren’t trends. They’re engineered desires. They leave an imprint. Not in the mind, but on the skin.
In a market where attention has the lifespan of a fruit fly, what stays with us are sensations. Fashion that smells like sex. Advertising that tastes like August. A dress that reminds you of hot cherries on a plate you never shared.
Don’t Look, Have a Bite
The new generation of fashion marketing doesn’t care whether you like the look. It wants to make you react. Sometimes that means making you slightly uncomfortable. Sometimes it means making you salivate.
Brands like Jacquemus & Loewe aren’t using food as a garnish. They’re using it as a weapon. To bypass the rational. To destabilise the scroll. To force a pause. And in that pause, something changes. You’re no longer a viewer. You’re a participant.
You want the bag. But maybe you also want the bite. Fashion brands are discovering that they hold power in stories beyond silk. They can seduce through scent, texture, sweetness, and the threat of spoilage.
It’s not “look at me.” It’s “feel me.” And in that sensory moment, the product becomes more than clothes, bags, or perfume. It becomes a craving.
Dressing as Language: Inside the Poetics of Paloma Wool
A Brand That Doesn’t Shout
There’s a quiet kind of noise in the way Paloma Wool speaks. Not loud, not performative, just intentional. In a space where fashion often defaults to overstimulation, Paloma does the opposite: it listens. To the body, to materials, to light. And to the ineffable space between getting dressed and becoming.
Mediterranean Mood, Global Message
Rooted in Barcelona and unmistakably shaped by its Mediterranean melancholy, Paloma Wool is more than a clothing label. It’s an evolving portrait. A study of form and feeling. Founded by Paloma Lanna, the project unfolds like a visual diary, part documentation, part invitation, into the daily intimacy of dressing.
Campaigns as Portraiture
What sets it apart isn’t just the design (although the fluid tailoring and sun-faded palettes are unmistakable). It’s the way the brand holds stillness. There's no rush to explain or overarticulate. Clothes are offered like pages from a sketchbook: unpolished, raw, somehow complete. Their campaigns, often shot on film, feel like scenes from a life you almost remember: washed in nostalgia, never constructed for performance.
The Social Media Slow Burn
That subtlety is what makes Paloma Wool a social media powerhouse. Their Instagram isn’t a sales funnel; it’s a curated window. A gallery of women mid-thought. Outfits mid-movement. Hair messy, sunlight uneven. It’s seductive without selling. Stylized without screaming. Every post carries the same DNA: softness with sharp edges, effortlessness that clearly took effort. Their 700K+ audience isn’t scrolling, they’re staying.
Community, Not Just Content
Core to Paloma’s world is community. But not in the empty, post-2016 marketing sense. Real community: built through collaboration, creative respect, and deliberate absence of hierarchy. Artists and photographers become co-authors, not just content generators. The brand doesn’t market values, it operates from them.
Relevance Without Noise
It’s also worth noting what they don’t do. No preachy sustainability slogans. No overexposed influencers. No voice that mimics what’s trending this week. And yet: they’re always current. Because the point isn’t chasing relevance. It’s creating it.
A Story Worth Lingering In
Paloma Wool reminds us that branding can be soft. That clarity can be romantic. That you can build cultural capital without spectacle, if you know how to tell a story worth lingering in.
In a landscape saturated with noise, Paloma speaks in lowercase.
And we listen.
The Subtle Art of the Uncaptioned Flex: Why Miu Miu Wins Social Media
You could scroll past it, easily.
A photo, a grainy video, maybe a backstage shot. No context, no quote, no call to action. Not even a caption half the time. Just a mood, dropped into your feed like it was always meant to be there.
That’s the Miu Miu method.
And it’s quietly genius.
What They’re Not Doing (Which Is Exactly the Point)
There’s no screaming.
No “shop now.”
No text overlays telling you what to feel.
Miu Miu posts the way a person with nothing to prove speaks: sparsely, deliberately, without chasing your attention. And that, ironically, makes you pay more attention. Especially in a landscape where everyone else is selling.
They’re not trying to appear authentic. They’re not trying to appear anything.
They're just… present. And that presence? Carefully cultivated.
They Know Their Power, and They Don’t Over-Explain It
There’s a specific kind of confidence in restraint.
A kind that says: “If you know, you know. And if you don’t, we’re not going to educate you.”
When Miu Miu posts a model in a half-creased cotton poplin shirt and micro-mini skirt walking through a cement stairwell. No tag, no hype, just the image. It’s not laziness. It’s language.
It’s the visual equivalent of a whisper in a loud room.
A brand voice that doesn’t raise its pitch, because it doesn’t need to.
It’s Not Just Aesthetic. It’s Strategy
Look closer. The randomness is not random.
Miu Miu uses:
Rhythm: Breaking up polished campaign images with iPhone-footage energy
Spacing: Long gaps between posts, which create a sense of absence (and thus desire)
Recurring faces: Not just models, but characters. Their casting becomes continuity.
Surprise drops: Not just product, but mood changes, sharp turns in vibe that keep you looking
They’ve turned their Instagram grid into a kind of visual diary. One that never overshares. It reads less like a brand channel and more like the coolest girl you follow but never hear from, until she posts at 3:27am from a hotel bathroom in Tokyo.
The Vibe Is the Campaign
While other brands are still trying to create “community” by talking at their audience, Miu Miu just curates.
A chair. A blurry shoe. A pixelated scan from a runway polaroid.
There’s no push to convince. No hashtag. Just presence.
And here’s the magic trick:
Even without text, even without links, you remember it.
Because Miu Miu doesn’t tell stories the way most brands do.
It suggests them. Which lets your mind fill in the blanks.
It’s narrative through negative space.
The Takeaway
What Miu Miu proves (brilliantly) is this:
In a world addicted to explanation, mystery wins.
In a market bloated with noise, silence is seductive.
In branding, aesthetic consistency is memory.
They don’t need to say, “This is Miu Miu.”
They just show you, again and again, until you feel it before you recognize it.
It’s astonishing how recognizable the brand is, knowing it’s the “little sister” of Prada.
And if you’re building a brand, or writing for one, you should be studying this. Not to copy it.
But to ask: What happens when you stop trying to be understood, and start being unforgettable?
The Performance of Being #real: How Fashion Lost Its Marketing Edge
Authenticity used to be rare. Now it’s the baseline.
We’re living in an age where “real” is not only expected. It’s performed. The stripped-back, overshared, irony-drenched, capital-R Realness that clogs feeds, brand bios, and campaign decks has become... predictable.
And when everyone is being real, no one is.
It’s a paradox of awareness we gained through using, or dare I say overusing social media.
The New Uniform: Denim, Dishevelment, and a Caption About Your Ex
Let’s call it what it is: there’s a formula to this kind of relatability.
A well-lit shot that’s slightly off. A model who looks like she just rolled out of a very expensive bed. Maybe she’s eating a croissant. Maybe there’s a pile of laundry in the background, strategically messily. And underneath it? A caption that reads like a tweet from 2014.
This is what too much fashion copy has become: hyperaware, overly casual, always winking.
It’s exhausting.
The Ironic Trap: When Meta Becomes Meaningless
When a brand says, “We don’t take ourselves too seriously,” it’s often taking itself more seriously than ever. It’s a pose. And like any pose, you can see right through it.
This is the problem with copy that leans too hard into self-awareness: it gives nothing to hold onto. No actual conviction. No opinion. Just a shrug and a joke and a wink.
You read it and think,
Okay, but what do you actually stand for?
That question should scare copywriters more than it currently does.
The scary part is, what if you don’t stand for anything at all?
Real Doesn’t Mean Relatable. It Means Intentional
The best fashion copy doesn’t pander. It provokes.
It doesn’t flatten the product into some #relatable moment. It elevates it. It suggests a world. A point of view. A sliver of danger or desire or elegance or weirdness, something textured, maybe raw.
Miu Miu does this, for instance. So does Acne.
You feel a pulse under the words. They don’t try to be your friend.
They just speak like they know who they are. Which is far more compelling.
Say Something
We need to stop writing to not offend. To not confuse. To not alienate.
Good copy should be willing to do all three, if it means being memorable.
The point of fashion isn’t to blend in. So why is the language trying so hard to be neutral?Is it “quantity over quality” problem? If a brand reaches 2M users with a beige, bland feed and conversion is just enough to keep them afloat, that’ll do. Quality in fashion is in the message. Let’s not forget that fashion at it’s core is a form of art and it used to have a mission, well many of them. Social and political issues were highlighted through fashion. Historic and artistic context were articulated by fashion. They still are, but just by few. But hey, maybe that’s the quality right there.
Brands need to stop tiptoeing and start telling their truth. Even if it’s strange. Even if it’s niche. Especially if it’s niche.
Clarity Over Quirks, Voice Over Volume
Here’s what it comes down to:
Don’t perform real. Be intentional. Be specific. Be clear.
Let go of the hashtags and the fake humility. No more ellipses in place of a thought. No more saying nothing in 200 words.
Fashion deserves sharper language. Smarter metaphors. Real personality.
Not “real” as a performance.
Real enough to actually matter.
Tiny Disco and the Unpolished Precision of New-Age Branding
In a landscape where “storytelling” has become a placeholder for actual ideas, there’s something quietly radical about the way Tiny Disco moves. It’s quick. Cinematic. Confident without posturing. The kind of work that doesn’t beg to be labeled “creative”, because it just is.
Founded in Melbourne by Chelsea Morley, Tiny Disco operates like a boutique production house that accidentally became essential. The agency is best known for making branded content that actually gets watched: high-volume, high-vibe, unmistakably visual. There’s a pulse to what they create. No padding. No preaching. Just frames that land.
And yet, there’s precision underneath the chaos.
Not Just Cool, but Calculated
Tiny Disco is where mood meets mechanism. Their recent partnership with Robotface (a motion control content studio) proves this: part visual poetry, part machine-grade delivery. The result? Campaigns that feel handcrafted and algorithm-proof, made for reels, but built to outlive them.
Where most brands drown in “creator-led” sameness, Tiny Disco sits somewhere stranger, and better. Think: Sephora spots with grit. Fashion week content that doesn’t feel pre-chewed. GHD with an actual edge.
They don’t make content to please platforms. They make it to expand what a brand feels like when it moves.
A New Vocabulary for Fashion-Adjacent Brands
What makes Tiny Disco quietly brilliant is their refusal to over-style the strategy. Their work says: We don’t need to write a manifesto around this. It’s enough that the color is right, the edit hits, and the product looks alive.
They work with beauty brands, fashion platforms, Australian household names and they make each one feel contemporary without collapsing into trend-chasing. That balance is rare. And it’s becoming a baseline expectation for brands with cultural ambition.
It’s Not Loewe, but It’s Close
There’s been chatter online about whether Tiny Disco worked with Loewe. As of now, it’s unconfirmed. But if they haven’t yet, they could. Easily. Their taste level, pacing, and aesthetic judgment would translate across any niche brand with a visual spine.
What’s interesting is that you don’t need to be Loewe to deserve this kind of creative muscle. That’s what Tiny Disco proves. Independent brands, mid-sized players, and commercial beauty clients can all move with the kind of cultural confidence usually reserved for fashion’s upper tier.
They’re making creative that’s both scalable and seductive. That’s the shift.
And so…
In an industry bloated with self-referential “creative studios,” Tiny Disco earns its space by moving sharper, faster, and smarter. Their work doesn’t need to explain itself because it’s already doing what it’s supposed to do: cutting through.
If you’re building a brand and you still think content and campaign are two separate lanes, they’re already ahead of you.
Because Tiny Disco doesn’t just hit play.
They build the rhythm.
BrendaHashtag Doesn’t Care What You Think
On Archiving, Disruption, and Building a Fashion Empire Without Playing the Fashion Game
In a culture addicted to visual noise, Brendahashtag (real name Brenda Weischer) cuts through the static. Cloaked in head-to-toe black and white. Her aesthetic is quiet, but the message is clear: she’s not here for attention. She’s here to change the narrative.
Monochrome isn’t a costume. It’s a refusal. Or maybe it’s just my interpretation.
While fashion influencers chase the algorithm, Brenda rewrites the code entirely. Her world isn’t driven by metrics or trends but by a rigorously honed instinct and a visual discipline few possess. The signature uniform, ex. tailored trousers, severe sunglasses, precise silhouettes, reads almost like fashion in grayscale. But in reality, it’s a radical embrace of restraint in an industry defined by excess.
Brenda doesn’t need color. She is the walking moodboard.
She surely influenced me. Majority of my clothes are black now and I love playing with structures, texture and layers.
Disruptive Berlin: The Archive as Resistance
Disruptive Berlin isn’t a vintage store. It’s an idea.
Password-protected, quietly curated, and dropping on Brenda’s terms (not the internet’s), this bi-monthly archive has become a cult destination. Shoppers, if they can even call themselves that, enter as if through a side door at a fashion show, invited into a rarified edit of past-life Margiela, brutalist Rick, and rare Helmut Lang.
It isn’t nostalgia. It’s preservation. Disruption here doesn’t mean chaos. It’s about breaking the cycle of overproduction and overconsumption by slowing it down and showing you the pieces that never should’ve been forgotten.
The irony? A “shop” that refuses to sell out is now one of Berlin’s most sought-after.
The Editor Who Never Tries Too Hard
Brenda’s presence at 032c isn’t accidental. It’s inevitable.
As a contributing editor, her column Brenda’s Business offers more than interviews. It's a quiet masterclass in power dynamics, intimacy, and fashion philosophy. When she sat down with Rick Owens, it wasn’t for viral pull quotes. It was about legacy. When she spoke to Peter Do, it wasn’t about hype. It was about method.
There’s a calm in her questioning, a refusal to fanboy, fangirl, or play the wide-eyed journalist. Brenda enters the room as an equal, and more often than not, the room adjusts to her.
The Podcast as Diary, Essay, Experiment
brendawareness isn’t just your regular fashion/ lifestyle podcast content. It’s confession.
Less polished than her visuals, more cerebral than typical influencer podcasts, brendawareness is where she breaks the fourth wall. It's part stream-of-consciousness, part industry critique, part voice note from your most sophisticated friend. There are no jingles, no sponsors, no awkward ads for mattress companies. Just thoughts. And pauses. And truth.
In a world where fashion is often stripped of substance, brendawareness does what few dare to do: say something that matters, and girl, no fancy mic needed.
Fashion Weeks and the Politics of Being Seen
She showed up to Paris Fashion Week wearing a sheer top, nipples visible. No shock value. No caption fishing for engagement. Just… fabric. Body. Presence. Art. That’s what fashion is all about.
That moment wasn’t about provocation. It was about form. About making the viewer question what they’re really looking at, and why they’re uncomfortable. Brenda doesn’t dress to be liked. She dresses to exist fully in her world. The fact that the fashion world is slowly conforming to hers is proof enough of her influence.
Three Stripes in Monochrome: BrendaHashtag & Adidas Superstars
Brendahashtag doesn’t wear trends. She deconstructs them, like a stylistic surgeon. Her collaboration with Adidas wasn’t built for hype, resale, or algorithmic virality. It was an aesthetic correction. A refusal of loudness. A study in black and white, the only palette she trusts.
No electric neons, no forced nostalgia. Just sculptural silhouettes and stripped-back design that felt closer to dancewear or digital armor than traditional sportswear. In a fashion world addicted to noise, Brenda delivered silence and somehow made it scream. Tailored fencing jackets, stretch cotton pieces that looked like they belonged in a Berlin gallery rather than a locker room. When I saw these shoes, I thought to myself: “This is it, this is perfection”.
Because of course, the Tabi influence was there. Brenda’s known fixation made tactile. Margiela’s legacy reinterpreted through Adidas’ language. The result was something eerily elegant, almost alien. Her three-striped pieces felt monastic, surgical, deeply considered. You don’t wear them to be seen. You wear them because you see.
This wasn’t a brand partnership. It was a design intervention. And like everything Brenda does, it will outlive the drop calendar. Her Adidas moment reminded us that the future of fashion isn’t in louder collabs. It’s in discipline. It’s in obsession. It’s in the hands of people like her: quietly addicted to detail, to silhouette, to split-toed iconography.
A Stylist Who Writes, A Writer Who Styles
It’s tempting to put Brenda in a category: editor, stylist, curator, influencer. But every label falls short. She writes for 032c, directs content, collaborates with institutions, advises brands, and manages her own.
Her collaborations, like those reportedly with Loewe, aren’t just CV padding. They’re evidence of how her taste operates across mediums. Furniture, fashion, identity. For Brenda, it’s all part of the same language.
And girls like me, Tumblr girlies, we want to be Brenda, have a piece of her genius.
Only Black and White, But Never Basic
What’s most misunderstood about Brenda is the assumption that black and white means simplicity. It doesn’t. It’s about control. About clarity. About knowing who you are and never needing to prove it.
In a world obsessed with being seen, Brenda’s power lies in seeing: the industry, the artifice, the ecosystem. She engages with it, but never submits to it. That's why her work lasts. Because it’s not about what’s now. It’s about what matters, what stays. What layers well.
And hey, I love her memes, too.
Paper Cranes and Poolside Ease: How Sandro’s SS25 Campaign Spells Out Summer
A French Villa, a Lamborghini, and a Ball of Purple Yarn
For Spring/Summer 2025, Sandro does what it does best. They walk the line between grounded and surreal, ease and effort, Paris and everywhere else. The campaign is set in Cannes, but not the yacht-heavy, red-carpet Cannes you’ve seen before. This is a different kind of Mediterranean: a cinematic, paper-strewn dreamscape where fashion flirts with the absurd.
Nigel Shafran’s lens frames the chaos just right. Models lounge across pastel loungers and clamber over stairwells tangled with ribbon, origami birds circling like ghosts of last night’s party. One image in particular, already bouncing around the moodboard corners of Instagram, captures a young man in a sports car, beaming as he knits a scarf from violet yarn. It’s a still-life of contradictions: luxury and play, youth and nostalgia, elegance with its hair down.
Sandro isn’t reinventing itself here. It’s refining the mood, sharpening the soft power it already owns. The campaign feels effortless because it is. The visual language says: “This is for you, if you know how to see it.”
Everyday Eccentricity: The Collection Itself
The clothes mirror the setting sun-bleached, slouchy, and precise. There’s a slow confidence to everything: loose ribbed polos, breezy poplin shirts, soft tailoring in sandy neutrals and pale ocean hues. It’s fashion that knows how to breathe.
For women, it’s about subtle texture: sheer knits, soft denim, quiet layers. For men, unstructured suits and linen pieces hint at a new kind of vacation uniform, one that trades logos for restraint and flexes through restraint alone. You’re not trying. You just are.
There’s an ease here that isn’t lazy. It’s intelligent. Each piece looks like it was made for people who dress well without needing to explain why.
A Shift in Fabric, A Nod to the Future
While the silhouettes stay soft, the materials are getting sharper in intent. There’s an increased presence of organic cottons and low-impact fabrics, a step forward in Sandro’s ongoing sustainability narrative. It's not shouted from the rooftops. It doesn’t need to be. It’s stitched in quietly, in the way fashion should be now: conscious, not performative.
These are clothes designed to live longer than the moment. To be worn, reworn, remembered.
Knitting the Unexpected into Parisian Chic
Sandro’s Spring/Summer 2025 campaign is a masterclass in balancing sophistication with whimsy. Set against the backdrop of Cannes, the collection unfolds in a dreamlike narrative where fashion interacts with unexpected graphic elements. Photographer Nigel Shafran captures models Merel Roggeveen, Joseph Uyttenhove, and Takfarines Bengana amidst ribbons, origami, and colorful tubes, creating a poetic, playful world where art and dreams merge seamlessly.
A standout moment features a model in a Lamborghini, knitting a purple scarf: a scene that encapsulates the campaign's blend of luxury and humor. This image, shared on Sandro's Instagram, has resonated with audiences, highlighting the brand's ability to infuse high fashion with unexpected, relatable elements.
The collection itself reflects this balance. For women, minimalist knit skirts and textured layers in sand, sky blue, and navy offer elegance and ease. Men's pieces draw from classic staples, introducing vibrant splashes of azure blue and zesty lemon yellow, perfect for those seeking adventure in everyday wear. Natural and breathable materials like poplin, cool wool, and linen define the collection, providing comfort and texture that mirror the journey from urban life to sunlit escapes.
Sandro's commitment to sustainability is evident in the increased use of organic cotton and eco-friendly fabrics. By prioritizing timeless, long-lasting pieces, the brand encourages consumers to invest wisely, promoting a more conscious approach to fashion.
On social media, Sandro continues to engage audiences with content that mirrors the campaign's themes. Their Instagram features serene settings and playful elements, while TikTok videos showcase models interacting with the whimsical aspects of the collection, like the aforementioned knitting scene. These platforms allow Sandro to extend the campaign's narrative, blending Parisian elegance with Mediterranean charm in a way that feels both fresh and authentic.
In SS25, Sandro doesn't just present a collection, it tells a story. Through thoughtful design, sustainable practices, and innovative storytelling, the brand invites us to see fashion not just as clothing, but as an experience that blends the unexpected with the timeless.
The Algorithm Can’t Get Enough: Sandro on TikTok and IG
What’s most striking is how well this collection translates across screens. On TikTok, Sandro’s recent campaign clips are quietly going viral. No gimmicks, no trends. Just gorgeous, slow moments: a model tracing sunlight across a concrete wall, another letting party streamers drift across their face like seaweed underwater.
It’s hypnotic. These aren’t ads; they’re moving poems. The kind of content that makes you stop scrolling, not because it shouts, but because it sighs.
Meanwhile, on Instagram, the brand is curating rather than performing. The feed is restrained, tonal, sun-washed. There’s no noise, no flash sale energy. Just the world of the collection, expanded with elegance. BTS snippets, editorial cuts, a few well-placed campaign stills. And that’s enough.
The engagement proves the point: today’s fashion audience doesn’t want to be sold to. They want to be invited in. Sandro understands the new digital language of luxury, and it’s speaking it fluently.
Where Sandro Is Going
This isn’t a rebrand. It’s a refining of tone. A narrowing of the aperture. With SS25, Sandro leans into the soft power of restraint: wearable minimalism rendered with a wink, elevated storytelling without spectacle. There's humour, yes, but it’s the quiet, confident kind.
It doesn’t scream “cool.” It trusts that you’ll get it. That you’re already there.
And that’s precisely what makes it work.
Coperni SS25: A Fantastical Intersection of Fashion and Fairytale at Disneyland Paris
A Historic Venue for a Groundbreaking Show
On October 1, 2024, Coperni made history by staging its Spring/Summer 2025 collection at Disneyland Paris, marking the first time a fashion show was held in the iconic theme park. The event, set against the illuminated Sleeping Beauty Castle, was the culmination of two years of negotiations between Coperni's co-founders, Sébastien Meyer and Arnaud Vaillant, and Disney. The designers, who both grew up in the south of France, described the show as a childhood dream realized, blending the magic of Disney with the innovation of contemporary fashion.
A Three-Act Narrative: From Innocence to Empowerment
The collection unfolded in three distinct acts, each reflecting a stage of personal and emotional growth.
Act I: The Whimsy of Childhood
The opening act celebrated the innocence and playfulness of youth. Models donned Victorian-inspired silhouettes, including ruffled white floral jacquard jackets paired with bloomers, evoking a turn-of-the-century aesthetic. Organza butterflies adorned scuba fabrics, symbolizing transformation and the delicate nature of childhood. Accessories featured Mickey Mouse ears and vintage Disney character prints, adding a nostalgic flair to the ensembles.
Act II: The Allure of Villainy
Transitioning into adolescence and the complexities of identity, the second act paid homage to Disney's iconic villains. The runway showcased monochromatic and structured outfits, including Maleficent-inspired bustiers with horned hoods and tiara-shaped dresses. These designs embodied the rebellious spirit and darker emotions associated with growth and self-discovery.
Act III: The Empowered Princess
The final act reimagined the traditional Disney princess, presenting a modern interpretation of femininity and strength. Classic silhouettes were updated with contemporary touches, such as balloon-sleeved bodysuits, pastel minidresses, and pieces adorned with butterflies emerging from their cocoons. This segment emphasized rebirth and the reclaiming of power, culminating in a celebration of evolved innocence.
Kylie Jenner: The Modern-Day Princess
A highlight of the evening was Kylie Jenner's surprise appearance, closing the show in a dramatic black ballgown. The strapless gown, featuring a voluminous skirt and embellished black evening gloves, positioned Jenner as a gothic Cinderella figure. Her presence generated significant media attention, with her social media posts amassing millions of views and contributing substantially to Coperni's media impact value.
Innovative Accessories: The Ariel Swipe Bag
Continuing its tradition of blending fashion with technology, Coperni introduced the Ariel Swipe Bag during the show. Developed in collaboration with Rapid Liquid Print, the bag was created using a gravity-free 3D printing technique within a water-based gel, resulting in a recyclable silicone accessory. This innovative approach allowed for the creation of complex geometries and emphasized Coperni's commitment to sustainability and cutting-edge design.
A Fusion of Fantasy and Fashion
Coperni's SS25 show at Disneyland Paris was more than a fashion presentation; it was a narrative journey that reimagined beloved stories through a modern lens. By intertwining elements of childhood nostalgia, technological innovation, and contemporary design, the brand crafted an experience that resonated with audiences of all ages. This event not only showcased Coperni's creative vision but also set a new precedent for the possibilities of fashion storytelling.