“I have come as close as possible to being satisfied in this endless pursuit of impossible perfection,” writes Demna in his farewell to Balenciaga couture, marking the close of a transformative decade at the helm of one of fashion’s most revered maisons. The 54th Couture Collection is not merely a finale; it is a culmination—a poetic, exacting thesis on craftsmanship, silhouette, and legacy. Shot across Paris and laid bare in both look and making, the collection fuses the radical spirit of Cristóbal Balenciaga with Demna’s own uncompromising vision for the future of fashion: personal, sculptural, and exquisitely strange.
A corresponding film directed by Gianluca Migliarotti—known for his documentary O’Mast on Neapolitan tailoring—offers rare access into the meticulous inner workings of the House’s couture ateliers. In it, premières, tailors, and designers narrate the multi-layered labor behind each garment. The documentary traces the making of corseted gowns, reconstructed archival silhouettes, and collaborations with legendary artisans like Maison Lemarié, William Amor, and fan-maker Duvelleroy. It is a film not just of fashion, but of devotion—a love letter to the human hands that define couture.
The collection opens with a tribute to “La Bourgeoisie,” a term once synonymous with conformity, now mined for its elegance and severity. Tailored jackets bear tulip lapels that frame the face like armor; high collars evoke both Medici nobility and Nosferatu’s haunting grace. In Demna’s hands, bourgeois tropes are recoded—pierced with irony, elegance, and a commanding silhouette. “Garments are sculptural and intricate in their construction,” he notes, “while embracing minimalism and reduction in their architecture.” This paradox—maximal form through minimal means—runs like a seam throughout the collection.
Corsetry, once an instrument of feminine discipline, is reengineered for comfort across ten different looks. An airy pink debutante dress in technical Japanese organza, a diva gown encrusted in black sequins, and a draped one-seam gown conjure Old Hollywood glamour as seen through a funhouse mirror. These are not nostalgic recreations—they’re cinematic hallucinations. A “mink” coat made from embroidered feathers, worn by Kim Kardashian as a tribute to Elizabeth Taylor, is paired with the actress’s actual diamond pendant earrings, on loan from Lorraine Schwartz. Over 1,000 carats of custom jewelry glimmer throughout the collection—white diamonds, Padparadsha sapphires, and canary yellow stones—turning the runway into a constellation of light.
Other garments are grounded in quiet subversion. A silk bomber jacket becomes as featherweight as tissue; a summer taffeta blouson transforms into businesswear via sleight of hand. One standout detail: 300 kilometers of tufted embroidery used to create trompe-l’œil corduroy pants, a feat of excess that reads as effortlessness. “They’re the first ‘corduroy’ pants I want to wear,” Demna says, with a wink toward comfort as luxury.
A standout thread in both the show and its documentary is tailoring—specifically the collaboration with four family-run Neapolitan ateliers. Nine suits, developed as “one-size-fits-all” garments measured on a bodybuilder, are modeled on a diverse cast of bodies. “It is not the garment that defines the body, but the body that defines the garment,” Demna writes. This democratic inversion of couture’s traditional ethos suggests a radical inclusivity. Migliarotti’s camera captures the intimacy of fittings, the choreography of needle and cloth, the philosophy of hands that have stitched for generations.
Heritage and transformation are braided throughout. A 1957 floral print from Cristóbal Balenciaga’s archives resurfaces on a sequined skirt suit. A replica of a 1967 houndstooth look once worn by Danielle Slavik, one of the house’s original muses, becomes the “Danielle” suit. Each is a memory made tactile. The finale gown—a seamless guipure lace sculpture shaped using millinery techniques—embodies the house’s entire language in a single garment: restraint and drama, memory and innovation, body and architecture.
The accessories deepen the message. Logos on bags are replaced by the wearer’s name, subverting the idea of branded status. Duvelleroy fans, recreated over nearly 200 hours of craft, flutter like time machines: one from 1895, another from 1905. Flower brooches are crafted from discarded tissue paper and silk, offering waste a new role as adornment. Even the couture sneaker—handmade using traditional shoemaking techniques—feels like a manifesto: this is couture for the street, couture for now.
Demna’s voice is not the only one heard. The soundtrack of the show features the names of his team—an act of collective authorship, a rare moment of ego dissolution in a field known for solitary genius. This final gesture is perhaps the most emotional: a house, after all, is not built alone.
As Demna departs Balenciaga couture, he leaves behind not a collection, but a philosophy. Couture is not anachronism—it is resistance. It is an art of slowness, of refusal, of obsessive care in a time of disposability. “This collection is the perfect way for me to finish my decade at Balenciaga,” he writes. “The ultimate minimal sculptural gown…represents everything this House stands for.”
What does Balenciaga stand for now? In this collection: freedom, contradiction, legacy, reinvention. A house haunted by its past, electrified by its present, and—through the ghost stitch of every seam—already dreaming of what comes next.
