Saint Laurent Spring Summer 2026 “Nudity is not gone. It’s just better dressed.” Story by RUNWAY MAGAZINE. Photo Courtesy: Saint Laurent.

At twilight, as the Eiffel Tower blinked indifferently in the distance, the white hydrangeas began to speak. From the ground, they were mere blooms—poised, pretty. But from the sky? They spelled YSL—a clever aerial signature, visible only to those with drones or the kind of curiosity that lifts one’s gaze. It was a cue that this wasn’t just a fashion show—it was a cinematic provocation, staged on the manicured grounds of the Trocadéro, with Paris playing itself once more in the role of sensual myth-maker.

And who were the players? Hailey Bieber. Zoë Kravitz. Madonna and Lourdes. Central Cee. Jean-Paul Gaultier. All drifting into this night garden to witness Anthony Vaccarello’s latest tension: the eternal Saint Laurent game of power, sex, and shadowplay.

The Garden of Shadows

Vaccarello opened with silhouettes as sharp as a slap: power-shouldered, pencil-skirted suits, leather polished to perfection, white pussy-bow blouses so aggressively oversized they bordered on weaponry. The women who wore them—strutting through the gravel paths—were not docile darlings. They were louche aristocrats, dominatrixes of Parisian restraint, disciples of the 1980s Yves—a time when libertine glamour was not a scandal, but a national export.

Saint Laurent, once the patron saint of unapologetic vice, returns here with full confidence, not nostalgia. As Vaccarello himself noted, this collection was born from the gay cruising grounds of the Tuileries—recast, of course, for women. Leather corsets, military caps, biker jackets. A silent, sexy patrol through a manicured Versailles-like terrain. Voyeurism was implied.

Nylon, Nudity, and Bourgeoisie Disturbed

The second act brought contradiction. Raincoats and day dresses, emblems of bourgeois domesticity, were rendered in clingy, translucent nylon—colorful, revealing, wet with subtext. There was nowhere to hide. No slips, no linings, no secrets. Just a sheen of synthetic propriety draped over naked confidence.

Vaccarello, ever the cinematic provocateur (and now fully enmeshed in the film world), staged a confrontation—between prudence and provocation. In an age where red carpets demand covered shoulders and high necklines, Saint Laurent dares to whisper: “Nudity is not gone. It’s just better dressed.”

The Ghosts of Haute Couture

Finally, the show dissolved into chiffon-like nylon, cut not to restrict but to billow and unfurl. Ruffles, volume, and color—historical silhouettes reimagined with technical pragmatism. These weren’t precious dresses; they were meant to be scrunched, stuffed into a purse, re-worn at sunrise. They were Saint Laurent gowns for the kind of woman who dances until dawn and doesn’t call a driver.

This Saint Laurent woman—leathered, transparent, and floating—is many things at once: aristocrat and anarchist, seductress and strategist. She stalks Paris at night not to be seen, but to remind us that fashion, at its best, can still subvert under the moonlight.

See All Looks Saint Laurent Spring Summer 2026