On August 31, Vice President JD Vance told a podcaster he “would not be shocked” if we were living in the end-times and/or if the Antichrist were walking among us. He also noted that it’s “OK” if his work somehow brings those end-times about. Spectacular. Obviously, his apocalyptic assertions steered my mind toward the Fall/Winter 2026 collections.
The world is on fire — literally and figuratively. It might seem flippant to devote your energy to fashion at this particular moment. But I’d argue that the season’s sartorial statements, such as Haider Ackermann’s transparent Tom Ford raincoats with alligator-embossed leather collars, Matthieu Blazy’s sheath covered in gargantuan, clattering paillettes at Chanel, and Glenn Martens’ blinding gilded Maison Margiela gown comprising 150,000 star stickers, are among the best ways to fill your brain and your wardrobe. Step aside quiet luxury, because fall’s fashions are loud — screaming loud. And they can be viewed as armor against reality or, at the very least, delicious distractions.
Fashion designer Elsa Schiaparelli — whose pursuit of extreme beauty was so fierce that, after her mother called her ugly, she crammed flower seeds into her mouth, ears, and nose in hopes she’d erupt into a garden — observed that, “In difficult times, fashion is always outrageous.” She wrote this in her 1954 memoir, Shocking Life, in the wake of two world wars. It’s since been quoted into oblivion by every fashion journalist with Google and a deadline — including yours truly, who has used it at least thrice in her career. It may now be a cliché, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.
Elsa’s heir, Daniel Roseberry, embodied her statement for fall, proposing suits scrunched and deformed in the most delectable ways, prim dresses slashed at the sides, and pumps garnished with furry, roaring felines. This season called for collections with teeth, and Roseberry delivered.
After years of trying to dress like the taupe-cashmere-drenched cast of Succession, it would seem we are finally replacing quiet luxury with something more boisterous. “This past year I noticed a shift back to color and different materials and proportions,” said stylist Bailey Moon, whose clients include fashion darlings Rebecca Hall and Morgan Spector. “People are having a little bit more fun again and making more exciting choices, which also means making riskier choices.” With risk comes reward.
Moon has found that his celebrity and well-to-do clients alike are taking the plunge. “People are craving what’s different and what’s going to set them apart,” he said. Case in point, one of Moon’s longtime clients recently eschewed a classic black Chanel flap bag in favor of the brand’s leopard-print model. When you buy a standout piece, said Moon, “what comes with it is a vibe.”
Style’s newfound courage, posits Moon, stems from a collective quest for cheer. We’re “seeking joy,” he said. Fall’s emphatic looks — faux fur dresses at Loewe by Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez, Jonathan Anderson’s abundance of flouncy skirts and shimmying feathers at Dior, silk fringe and immaculate embroidery at Sarah Burton’s Givenchy, to name a few — unapologetically declare, “I’m enjoying myself!” And even if you aren’t, fake it ’till you make it. It’s inevitable that, eventually, these clothes will bolster your mood.
Naturally, none of this is new. Fashion historian Summer Anne Lee explained that maximalism has often been catalyzed by technology, prosperity, and youth. “In the mid-19th century, for example, innovations in steel made the massive cage crinoline possible, while newly invented synthetic dyes sparked fashion trends for vivid new colors.” She also noted the influence of the street, citing “the spectacular postwar youth subcultures, whose styles pushed the envelope by challenging conventional ideas about class and sartorial convention” and the punks of the 1970s. “Vivienne Westwood famously described their approach as ‘confrontation dressing,’” she said.
Lee suggested that fashion’s shift toward noisiness may not merely be celebratory escapism. The restrained “old money” and “quiet luxury” trends are closely associated with snobbery and exclusivity. “The maximalist styles we’re seeing now can be read, in part, as a rejection of that aesthetic and the elitist social structures it comes from,” she said. Given the growing backlash against billionaires and tech oligarchs, that tracks.
What doesn’t quite track is how exorbitantly expensive rejecting exclusivity is. Today’s most ebullient designs can run anywhere from four to six figures, which seems absurd for ready-to-wear. “I cannot for the life of me figure out where they’re coming up with these prices,” said Timothy Lloyd Pope, a fashion and luxury consultant who’s spent more than 40 years in the biz. A pastel jacquard Dior Bar jacket, for instance, will set you back $11,500, and Schiaparelli’s shimmering trompe l’oeil dress with hands grasping at the breasts is a cool $21,500. Spending that kind of dough is reserved for the ruling class, not a protest of it.
If you are going to invest in the season’s finery — or if you’re planning to channel its grandiosity with fabulous thrift-store finds — Pope cautions against adopting fashion’s full extremes. No one wears the entire runway look unless they’re peacocking at a fashion show or on the red carpet. You can be loud without screeching. “I find all of this very exciting in that there are now interesting pieces that you pluck and inject into an existing wardrobe to add some excitement,” said Pope. “They’re pieces that can go along and work in someone’s life — not just this season, but in the future. It’s not just a throwaway, loud luxury trend.” He named Chanel’s leopard statement jacket and advised teaming it with a white blouse and some high-waisted trousers. “That’s a way to go out to dinner — to feel glamorous, but not look silly.” Such pieces, he said, lend “an interesting kiss of glamour to a woman’s wardrobe.” Or a slap, depending on what you’re into.
Moon agrees with that sentiment. “It doesn’t always have to be a loud color or loud proportions. It can be something sleek that is a little bit removed from the simplicity of the minimalist, quiet-luxury era.” Consider the look he assembled for Nina Dobrev’s appearance at the 2026 Venice Film Festival, which comprised a sequin Armani Privé column gown with emerald strips of chiffon streaming from the skirt. She spent the evening twirling the panels rather than freezing into what Moon calls the typical red-carpet “T. rex pose.” It wasn’t over the top, but it wasn’t meek, either.
Pope defines luxury as pieces that provide the freedom to put your best self forward. “Sometimes that’s a big statement. Sometimes that’s a whisper,” he said. Fall really focuses on the former, and thank goodness it does. If I’m going to bump into the Antichrist, I want to do it wearing something extraordinary — something that packs a punch and an opinion.
