Apocalypse in monochrome, The world ends not in contempt but in rhythm. A final beat. What else is forever now? We whisper in unison through collapse, praising a tailored grief ritual. CAMPERLAB stepped in to unveil its first procession: a cinematic post-civilization altar.
Once upon a time, a blue parking disc slipped quietly into my mailbox.
At first, I thought it was just another lost relic—
a middle school tech project bouncing back from the void.
But no—this was no mistake. An invitation whispered in cobalt blue,
insisting on one thing: Be on time. A prominent toddler-friendly clock sets the tone —not to confuse AM/PM, which can easily happen on a Fashion Week day 3.
The apocalypse is now – trapped in a bunker, the heatwave pressing in like a relentless guest, a mini Moet bottle as the only device for survival.
On the runway, mannequins mourned, but we remained composed, perhaps a glimpse of ourselves, wilting—a slow burn beneath the merciless glare of the heat. Camperlab as a fashion creature — unstable, glorious, and mischievous. Through the fog and memories, Michele Rizzo’s ritual-like choreography — feels like a transmission from another frequency. A nightclub exorcism, we’re all ears for creative director Achilles Ion Gabriel’s true ethos: TORMENTA sunglasses sheath the end of days in smooth, sculpted plastic, tartan suits distort as corrupted pixels on a dying VHS feed. Denim coats sprawl oversized and bear ghost-print graffiti, while leather is embossed in crocodile or worn raw. Martigny, swathed in a red-infused clash of leather and denim—like battle armor dyed in runway blood — emissaries of Camperlab’s former selves, risen once more to anoint its latest incarnation.
SS26 revs up a new chapter: somewhere between dystopia and utopia, grime and glam, past and propulsion. Camperlab has always been a lab — in the way potions explode, in the way identities blur.
