Copenhagen turned twenty this season, and the city celebrated two decades of fashion week by doing what it has always done best, which is to make the rest of the calendar look faintly overdressed. The shows wrapped in early August with the usual chorus of bicycles, cardamom buns and attendees who appear to have assembled their outfits by accident and by genius simultaneously. Three ideas came out of it with enough conviction to survive the flight home.
Pillbox Hats, With a Scarf for Company
The most photographed accessory on the streets sat squarely on top of the head. Pillbox hats appeared everywhere, rendered in satin prints and delicate lace, and the styling twist involved a silk scarf either knotted beneath the chin or draped over the crown of the hat entirely. Halston designed the version Jackie Kennedy wore to the 1961 inauguration, and fashion legend holds that she accidentally dented the crown while getting out of the car, prompting a generation of women to dent theirs on purpose. Copenhagen has restored the shape without the reverence, treating it as something to be layered and knotted and generally interfered with.
Broderie Anglaise, Everywhere and Featherlight
The openwork embroidery that most people associate with childhood nightdresses arrived in serious quantities, running down long skirts, floating through airy blouses and finishing collars with a precision that read as almost architectural. The technique earns its place in a summer wardrobe by adding texture while weighing nothing at all, and the Copenhagen crowd wore it in full white looks as often as they used it for a single detail. Paired with something structured, a leather jacket or a heavy denim trouser, the contrast keeps the whole thing away from anything resembling a nursery.
The Kitten-Heel Flip-Flop, Improbably
The footwear category delivered the season’s most divisive object, a flip-flop lifted onto a kitten heel and worn with total seriousness. It belongs to the category that trend forecaster Mandy Lee memorably christened the freaky shoe, meaning footwear designed to provoke rather than to flatter, and Copenhagen has adopted it as a house specialty. The proposition works because the heel is low enough to walk in and the thong is minimal enough to read as summer, producing an object that manages to be both ridiculous and correct. Underneath all three runs the same logic. Pink appeared in every conceivable dilution, from neon to powder, and turquoise shadowed it closely, while brooches turned up pinned to lapels and bags with a fervor bordering on the eccentric. Copenhagen has spent twenty years proving that personal style outranks the season’s dictates, and Spring 2027 arrives as further evidence, gathered on a bicycle.
