Yesterday evening, VETEMENTS returned to the official Paris Fashion Week calendar in the only way it really could: by turning the entrance of an anonymous residential building into the hottest address in the city. Residents wandered downstairs clutching grocery bags or sheer curiosity—some suddenly channeling the unmistakable timing of an ex-boyfriend reappearing just to walk the dog—only to find a sea of editors, rappers, athletes, photographers, and security guards occupying. The expressions on their faces alone stole the show.
If fashion is theatre, Guram Gvasalia has always preferred guerrilla productions. Since taking full creative control of VETEMENTS after co-founding the label with his brother, Demna, in 2014, the Georgian-born designer has steered the house away from fashion’s obsession with fantasy and back toward something far more unsettling: reality. His collections examine the everyday—office uniforms, tourist souvenirs, corporate tailoring, streetwear—and stretch them until they become both absurd and strangely desirable.
The audience reflected that philosophy perfectly. North West chatted a few rows away from Maluma. NBA players rubbed shoulders with goth kids dressed entirely in black despite Paris flirting with “tropical” (when it was really inferno) temperatures. A new age for social tribes: Punk veterans, TikTok stars, underground musicians, and flip-flop shamans somehow all looked like they belonged together. An overlap of worlds, Gvasalia revisited familiar Vetements signatures with renewed restraint. Oversized tailoring, executive jackets slid in with intentionally unfinished sleeves, crisp office shirts escaped awkwardly from waistbands, and reversible Harringtons and trench coats quietly revealed checked interiors stamped only with the word “Clothing.”
Elsewhere, office archetypes metamorphosed into fashion characters. An overworked middle manager, weighed down by key clips, the impeccably dressed intern whose polished appearance never quite convinced, and corporate uniforms subtly sabotaged through awkward proportions and deliberate construction flaws. Everything looked respectable—until it didn’t. The collection doubled down on the house’s original language: familiar clothes made slightly uncomfortable, everyday dressing turned into social commentary. The last word belonged to Sharon Stone. Closing the show in glossy latex thigh-high boots and an oversized white jacket, her gaze fixed and almost expressionless – barely recognizable. As a corporate ghost, she drifted through the tunnel with unsettling precision—a final image sealing the brand’s instinct for bending the familiar just slightly out of reach. Nearly twelve years after disrupting luxury fashion, VETEMENTS still asks the same question: who decides what’s normal? Judging by the confused residents watching hundreds of guests disappear into their garage for a fashion show, the answer remains gloriously unresolved.
