The Biggest Shows From Paris Men's Fashion Week

A lot has happened these past few months. After Kim Jones presented his blindfolded swan song in January, Jonathan Anderson was announced as his replacement. That alone was big news, but speculation kept churning until June, when Dior confirmed he’d oversee menswear, womenswear and haute couture — a first in the house’s history. While his upcoming women’s and couture shows will be the real test, this first men’s outing already hinted at what’s to come.

We’d seen the pre-show campaigns: Warhol images of Basquiat with his tie tossed over his collar, Lee Radziwill staring down the lens in a simple turtleneck and Kylian Mbappé in a preppy suit with a slightly off fit. They seemed to explore how people born, or elevated, into high society have the freedom to subvert dress codes and approach style with vision and irreverence.

Then came leather four-leaf clovers, tote bags stamped with Dracula and "Les Liaisons dangereuses," silver pin cushions shaped like frogs and wheelbarrows, and a photo of a topless jock sprawled on a hotel bed. Classic Jonathan Anderson: deep-cut references that signal a love for the arts and a touch of playful horniness. He is, after all, the ultimate art hoe.

Respectful to the archives, the Irish designer interpreted house codes with a sense of ease. The opening look featured a slouchy riff on the Bar jacket in Donegal tweed, paired with ecru workwear shorts inspired by the 1948 Delft dress. Fifteen meters of sculpturally pleated heavy twill cotton trailed behind the model. The Cigalle dress, with its nipped waist and angular peplum skirt, informed another pair of cargo shorts.

Anderson also paid tribute to his predecessors. Slimane’s sleaze was palpable in slim-cut shirt and denim pairings and military frock coats. Jones’ influence lingered in the soft palette and streetwear-leaning items, like the suede skater shoes that are bound to be a hit.

Worthy of note: the collection was strikingly light on leather goods and accessories. There were some backpacks and messengers slung over shoulders. And the aforementioned tote bags appeared in quick glimpses, often half-hidden under cloaks or coats. It signaled that Anderson was focused less on commercial accessories and more on establishing a vision and a new soul for Dior. That vibe was a twisted take on the Anglo-French regalia of the cultural elite.

The dandyism of this year’s Met Gala had already left me wishing for an excuse to invest in eveningwear, especially after seeing Wales Bonner’s exceptional custom looks: lean silhouettes, cropped waistcoats, intricate regalia pinned to the lapels. But of course, as a 30-year-old city dweller who doesn’t regularly attend high society events, those occasions are rare. Anderson’s Dior debut, however, made a compelling case for collecting the odd formal garment and showed how convincingly a bow tie, waistcoat or dress scarf can work in a daytime look. It was all a bit Etonian legacy heir playboy: embroidered waistcoats paired with denim, iterations of Cambridge graduation cloaks rendered in colorful bouncy knits worn over simple slacks and plimsolls. Shirts came untucked, but the bow ties were fastened tightly.

The community Anderson conjures is perhaps most emblematic of his vision for the house. Ethel Cain arrived in an intricately embroidered skirt combined with an oversized striped rugby jersey. ASAP Rocky, a modern dandy, paired a powder blue workwear shirt with a diagonally striped tie. In a way, it clashed (and certainly didn’t follow the rules laid out in The Official Preppy Handbook), but it was irresistible. The new Dior seems to be for the rule breakers: those who knowingly subvert tradition and bring fresh perspective to fashion. It’s for the new elite.

Rick Owens presented his Spring 2026 collection, "Temple," at his recurring location of choice: the Palais de Tokyo. Erected from the pool outside the contemporary art institute stood a scaffolded structure: part gangplank runway, part buoy. Models made their way down the plank before climbing off, wading through and eventually diving into the knee-high water.

Owens continued his pursuit of elegant sleaze. His trademark penchant for the bizarre was intact, with plenty of horned shoulders and Dracula collars distorting the silhouettes of silk taffeta, heavy-duty nylon and vegetable-tanned leather jackets. Compared to previous seasons, however, he exercised a level of restraint that resulted in credible, wearable garments. Sequins brought a touch of high-octane glamour: sometimes heavy and densely encrusted across jackets, other times light as a feather, embroidered onto sheer monastic gowns billowing in the wind.

That doesn’t mean Owens has gone soft. There was still plenty of bare skin, distressed denim, studded straps and a series of looks crafted entirely from slashed and spiked fringe, injecting a dose of sex and grunge.

The show coincided with the opening of his first-ever retrospective at the Palais Galliera, Paris’ most revered fashion museum. The most expansive exhibit the museum has hosted to date, it features over 100 looks, 30 brutalist sculptures, a complete garden redesign and a giant statue of Rick urinating. It’s a testament to his focused and enduring vision, which has inspired and liberated countless freaks and weirdos to be true to themselves.

Back on the scaffolding, the models at first seemed like the survivors of a catastrophic shipwreck, wandering aimlessly with teary streaks of water running down their faces and no savior in sight. During the finale, they all marched into a defiant formation — some even climbing back onto the scaffolding in an impressive display of athleticism. It was powerful, and perhaps a reminder that however adrift we may seem, empowerment lies in authenticity, autonomy and silent defiance.

Willy Chavarria made quite the impression with his Paris debut last January. Already drawing significant attention for his bold political messaging, cinematic visuals and strong community of collaborators back home in NYC, the journey to the French capital catapulted him into the epicenter of the global fashion industry. This season, he made it clear he has no intention of slowing down, using his platform to make an unflinching statement against current attacks on immigrant rights, trans justice and reproductive freedom.

The show opened with a striking tableau: 35 men dressed in oversized pure white t-shirts created in partnership with the American Civil Liberties Union, kneeling together in defiant harmony as José Feliciano’s version of “California Dreaming” played.

Chavarria is driven to create clothing that dignifies its wearer. “Exquisite tailoring and craftsmanship worn to elevate one’s personal intent – that’s power. That’s fashion,” he said. The collection leaned heavily into '60s and '80s preppy polish. The men, like Stefon Diggs and James Harden, wore smart Chicano suits — modern takes on American sportswear and blue-collar workwear silhouettes. Pastel shades of yellow, turquoise, red and pink added a new softness to the swagger.

The latest iteration of his ongoing Adidas collaboration drew inspiration from Los Angeles and global street culture. Graphics developed with LA-based tattoo artist Sal Preciado included emblems reading "Chavarria Community Center" and "Global Unification Association," as well as a cap emblazoned with "America" written upside down. Following last season’s Chavarria Superstar, the designer and the iconic sportswear brand debuted an all-new running style: the Megaride AG and Megaride AG XL.

Womenswear, a relatively new category Chavarria has been expanding together with Head of Design Rebeca Mendoza, felt strong, empowered and, in Chavarria’s words, “not to be fucked with.” This season, they drew inspiration from Mendoza’s grandmother’s archives, loosening and transforming the patterns of garments she discovered there. Coquettish pencil suits incorporated workwear details, seductive trench dresses conjured images of Newton women, and prim puff-sleeved princess dresses were topped off with slick shades. These looks were embodied by iconic women spanning generations, including Farida Khelfa, Alva Claire, Omahyra Mota, Sevdaliza and Becky G.

Why such a bright and optimistic color palette in such dark times? “Color as rebellion,” is the simple answer. Looking at postwar South American architecture, they were struck by the way the bright, tactile interiors of many Mexican state buildings contrast with their looming, heavy exteriors. It made them contemplate the idea of rebuilding after destruction.

It makes sense for Chavarria to spread his message on the biggest platform he can access. Named after his hometown Huron, a small immigrant town in Fresno County, the show brought attention to injustices happening in the overlooked corners of America and, more broadly, the world.

Where Anthony Vaccarello’s previous menswear shows have been firmly grounded in a cinematic neo-noir vision of dangerously sharp tailoring and leather kink (who could forget Swedish stud Alexander Skarsgård hitting the Cannes red carpet in those thigh-high leather boots?), his Spring 2026 offering transported his Parisian demon twink out of the moonlit back-alleys and into the legendary, sun-kissed pine forests of Fire Island, where “escape becomes elegance, and desire becomes a language.”

Yves Saint Laurent himself had Marrakech, where he escaped the pressures of the house and society at a time when being homosexual was heavily stigmatized. It was there that Monsieur Laurent fell in love with the rich, vibrant color palette that would eventually seep into his collections and become a well-known house code.

Fire Island has similarly been a safe haven for free thinkers and the gays, for many decades. Truman Capote, Tennessee Williams, Paul Cadmus, Frank O’Hara and countless others left their traces on the island — a tradition kept alive today by men like Vaccarello. They may not have to hide in the shadows as before, but with the world leaning more conservatively every day, these pockets of liberative freedom remain vital.

The collection was sculpted, not exaggerated, and offered plenty of mouth-watering options for summer dressing. Structured jackets and shirting subtly extended the shoulder line while box-pleated trousers nipped the waist. Silk and nylon blouses billowed and clung to the models’ slender frames, their sheerness revealing hints of damp skin.

There was precision in the way ties were tucked exactly at the third button, but the slutty shorts, vibrant palette and light materials made the whole thing feel relaxed, unfussy, and DTF. You might bring the Saint Laurent boy into the light of day, but you’ll never get rid of his kink.

Craig Green showed in Paris! Since COVID, the British designer has been an elusive figure — only sporadically presenting his collections on the runway and supplementing these outings with collaborations for Adidas, Fred Perry and Moncler, or with sculpturally inclined campaigns created alongside artist and set designer David Curtis-Ring.

This time last year was the last time he presented a full collection, and that was in London. This season marked the first time he has ever made the trek over, and the city was abuzz with excitement. (I have a personal investment in the brand: Eleven years ago, my first job in Paris was assisting in his sales showroom, then led by the living legend Barbara Grispini, so to attend his first show here, as an invited guest covering it for this publication, was truly a pinch-me moment.)

The collection kicked into high gear with the idea of assemblage worked into different materials. Patchwork funnel-neck shirting clashed earnest greys and pinstripes with trippy Liberty prints. Heavy honeycomb knits seemed to melt away into airy lace-knit sweaters. This concept continued in looks that layered distressed knit tops — reduced to an essence of V-neck ribbing and fringed wool — over tent-like patched Western trousers.

Midway through, the show shifted into Green’s Fred Perry collaboration. This segment felt utilitarian and beachy: nautical stripes in various iterations, roomy tees and long-sleeve polos paired with dropped-waist shorts in nylon-like fabric, detailed with decorative straps, panels and zips.

Hints of Sergeant Pepper referenced '60s hedonism and liberation, transplanted into the present. The collection had a nostalgic, hippie quality that resonates with today’s obsession with spiritual enlightenment with Ayahuasca rituals now seem almost as common as hitting the gym. But rooting these references in Green’s unique, rigorously-established design vocabulary elevated them beyond costume or pastiche.

As a final gesture of transcendence, models wore micro-sunglasses fitted with LED beams, sending diffraction spikes across runway photos and social feeds, like deities beaming kinetic energy from their eyes.

Kiko Kostadinov stripped it back to basics this season. The collection envisioned a full day’s cycle set in a fictional island town. This was clothing designed for real humans, living real lives. Where previous seasons dreamed up garments for singular situations or settings, this time Kostadinov seemed preoccupied with building an actual wardrobe.

Nonchalant twill pajama-style looks opened the show, paired with flip-flops and tabi socks. These segued into easy workwear jackets, trousers and shirting. Kostadinov’s usual eye for muted color combinations and clashing prints was still there, but this season placed explicit focus on materiality. He emphasized: “Fabrics come together in combinations that are both clashing and complementary. Light twill. Textured mesh. Contra-stitched leather. Narrow woven kasuri cotton. Tactility is key. These are things to be held and touched.”

As the inhabitants of our fictional island wrapped their work shifts, the show moved into eveningwear — a completely new territory for the brand. A waistcoat was given sleeves and paired with shorts, and those tabi flip-flops suddenly felt like a credible option for elevated summer dressing. More formal takes on the suit — classic black jacket and white shirt combinations — were Kiko-fied with diagonal buttoning, loose cuts and whimsical brooches. Jackets were nipped at the waist and finished with utilitarian pockets. Trouser lines were distorted either with little buckles at the ankles or by tucking hems into socks.

In the closing looks, the island dwellers seemed to venture into the desert. Soft wool twill was eroded to reveal panels of silk, fabrics came in sandy hues or psychedelic prints, and one model wore a shamanic pendant swinging from his neck. Next stop: Burning Man.

What Else Went Down?

Paris is more than its runway shows. It’s often hard to make and stick to a plan amid the many parties, presentations and launches that happen during the week. Everyone keeps their ear firmly to the ground and does their due diligence to suss out which event justifies braving the intense heat.

Coinciding with Paris Pride on Saturday, Courrèges once again threw the hottest party of the season (which I sadly had to miss thanks to a serious bout of food poisoning — a Paris tradition picked up from my more seasoned editor friends, which felt strangely affirming beyond the obvious physical discomforts).

Brand of the moment ALL–IN released N°8: Fan Fiction. The label stages one runway collection a year and releases a magazine in lieu of a second season. The launch lit up an ironically dreary mall space with the presence of Alex Consani, Lola Bahi, Lotta Volkova, Halley Wollens and Lengua.

Elsewhere, Kaleidoscope and GOAT hosted Manifesto, a week-long happening in the Espace Niemeyer featuring works by Kristina Nagel and Anna Uddenberg, plus live performances by Erika de Casier, Sega Bodega and iconic French music duo Air.

Tbilisi-based stylist Christian Stemmler launched his first book with IDEA: Anfang: Berlin 1994–99 compiles imagery from his personal archives, documenting the years he moved to Berlin at 17 during its nightlife heyday. Living in a squat and working in a club, he began photographing his friends and the world around them on a simple point-and-shoot — something pretty uncommon at the time. It captures an era that has been moodboarded and mythologized to death, but here it feels raw, personal and unfiltered.

Finally, the new vanguard of menswear continues to make waves in the French capital, with a clear focus on fabric, cut and a light silhouette. Rising star ssstein drew inspiration from the soft, subtle shades of Corinne Day’s photography, translating them into elegantly layered ensembles with minimal padding and plenty of airiness.

Also new on the schedule: Camiel Fortgens. The Dutch designer showed his collection in front of his showroom, out on the street, “where the clothes instinctively belong: among people, movement, traffic and architecture.” It’s in line with his unpretentious take on fashion, and it makes sense: Fortgens graduated from Eindhoven’s Design Academy, where students are more likely to study industrial design than couture techniques. It’s exactly this outsider perspective that makes his work feel so fresh, immediate and relevant: It’s real, it’s desirable, and it’s perfectly unpolished — exactly what everyone in fashion aspires to be at the moment.

Photos courtesy of the brands