All photos by Sonnyphotos
Dear Shaded Viewers,
Last week, Robert Wun’s Fall 2025 couture show at the Théâtre du Châtelet was less a runway presentation and more a feverish psychological thriller. The collection, aptly titled “Becoming,” was a meditation on the ritual of dressing—except in Wun’s hands, the act of getting ready is no gentle, meditative affair. Instead, it’s a high-stakes drama, a whodunnit, a get-ready-with-me TikTok filtered through the lens of horror.
The opening look set the tone: a model glided out, mouth bloodied, swaddled in a white dress embroidered with red sequined handprints. It was a haunted duvet, a testament to a night gone wrong, and a signal that we were entering a world where the line between body and garment would blur. Accessories were surreal and unsettling—veils held aloft by prosthetic arms sprouting from shoulders, jackets morphing into handbags, gloves tipped with talon-like nails. Each detail was a plot twist, and the entire show was staged like a psychological thriller, with every look a new chapter: a violet gown with a veil suspended by artificial limbs; a sand-colored bridal finale topped with a miniature mannequin cradling the veil; coats splashed with sequins like forensic evidence.
The horror-movie energy was palpable—think American Horror Story meets Beetlejuice on the Paris runway. Blood-stained gowns, brain-shaped hats, and dominatrix black leather looks with vampy sleeves and shock-inducing masks all made appearances. Every ensemble became a tableau vivant, a story told in fabric and flesh, with Wun’s mastery of trompe l’oeil tailoring on full display as collars and ties were rearranged, exaggerated, and subverted.
The color story was equally arresting: red dominated, from slicked-back hair bejeweled with crimson gems to lipstick smeared like a crime scene, and talon nails poised for the next act. Wun isn’t interested in wearability or commercial appeal. “I’ve let go of all that. Now I just do what I want, and in that I’ve actually found my voice,” he mused backstage. This season, he asked: Why do we dress up? What does it all mean? The answer, apparently, is not comfort but catharsis, not ease but existential drama.
Each look was a metamorphosis—dressing as an act of becoming, of stepping into a new self, or perhaps shedding an old one. The collection felt like a love letter to the memories we stitch into our clothes, the fantasies we drape over our bodies, and the courage it takes to transform. In a week where many designers played it safe, Robert Wun reminded us that couture, at its best, is a little bit terrifying—and absolutely unforgettable.
Later,
Diane
