2025
The Marc Jacobs Fall 2025 collection was all billowing, bulbous shapes conjured by a mad pastry chef who’d lost all concept of proportion and restraint, locked in a haunted mansion with nothing but a dream and an alarming amount of batting. These were massive, poofy, sculpted meringues masquerading as gowns, sleeves of balloonish impossibilities and skirts that swallowed entire bolts of fabric.
Models floated down the runway like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man’s hollow-cheeked Victorian ancestors, teetering through the New York Public Library swaddled in swirls of pillowy confection. Enormous bows perched on heads like decorative afterthoughts from a giantess’s dollhouse, while bustles and leg-of-mutton sleeves cascaded in layers that suggested someone had asked “how much fabric is too much fabric?” and decided the answer was “there is no such thing.”
Someone is going to snidely, smugly comment somewhere, “Comme des Garçons did it better”, and I don’t disagree. But. Sigh. There is always that someone.
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Riven says
Hunger Games couture.
Deborah says
That's IT, Riven.