John Candy: I Like Me is more than a documentary, it’s a heartfelt thank-you letter to one of comedy’s most beloved figures. The film opens by tracing Candy’s rise from his humble Canadian improv beginnings to his legendary Hollywood career, showing how his everyman charm and selfless spirit made him a household name.
It’s a beautiful tribute to an incredible man. A true icon. A man who never lost touch of who he was or where he came from. He was never too famous for anybody or anything. A true comedian who would invite any and all to share the stage with him. A man with a heart of gold built from his own traumas.
Just hours after the Louvre was targeted by thieves Sunday morning, news outlets were already calling it the heist of the century. But while it was immediately clear that the museum had been targeted by skilled professionals, it was also obvious that those criminals had made a few mistakes. As they were fleeing the museum, the thieves dropped one of their spoils—a crown that once belonged to Empress Eugénie. On Thursday, police told local news outlet Ouest-France that the thieves had also abandoned a helmet, angle grinders, gloves, and a vest, allowing law enforcement to take more than 150 different samples that might help them catch the crooks.
The thieves also left behind one of their most important tools. They had entered the museum’s Apollo Gallery by parking their truck outside and simply raising an elevating platform and ladder on the truck to the window. They cut a hole, slipped in, and escaped—not bothering to take the truck with them. As it turns out, the lift on the truck is manufactured by Böcker, a German company that wasted no time seizing on its newfound infamy. The company quickly shared an image of the lift used in the theft on its Instagram, accompanying it with a jokey caption: “If you’re in a hurry,” it reads, “the Böcker Agilo carries your treasures up to 400 kg at 42 m/min—quiet as a whisper.”
Elaine Sciolino, former Paris bureau chief for The New York Times, tells Vanity Fair that she thought the German company’s response was in “breathtakingly bad taste.” That said, she’s also fascinated by some of the robbery’s stranger details—and notes that the confusing nature of the building itself might have made it an ideal target for daring yet derelict thieves. “The problem of the Louvre is it was not built as a museum. It was built as a fortress in the Middle Ages,” she says. “It became a palace where kings restored and renovated it, and their egos were more important than engineering rationality. It makes no sense.”
Though the Louvre has become one of the most trafficked tourist destinations in the world, it still operates on an old-world logic. “It’s on 25 different levels, with different eras of construction—all different sizes and thicknesses of walls,” says Sciolino. “There are 4,000 keys, and they don’t even know if all of them work. There are doors that go nowhere.”
For her recent book, Adventures in the Louvre: How to Fall in Love With the World’s Greatest Museum, Sciolino went behind the scenes to learn about the security and fire-safety practices at the Louvre. Her research indicates that the museum could have been prepared for thieves wielding battery-powered angle grinders: “The glass display cases that contained the jewels had to be secure enough to deter thieves or tampering, but flexible,” she says. The Louvre has a permanent force of firefighters in the building around the clock, sapeurs-pompiers who serve in the French military. “They also have protocols for breaking into the glass cases and seizing any items, whether it’s a sculpture or whether it’s a crown jewel. They have to be trained on all the different tools that you have to be able to use to grab a painting or break a glass case.” On her Instagram account, Sciolino shared a photo of similar angle grinders as they appear in the Louvre firefighters’ own handbook.
Mrs. Prada’s table was even more stacked: Govan and his wife Katherine Ross, Francesco Vezzoli, and the dynamic duo of Klaus Biesenbach and Hans Ulrich Obrist, two of the great curators of their era, now two of the most important museum directors in Europe. Also present at her table: the great French actor Vincent Cassel, fellow actor Diane Kruger, Art Basel Paris director Clément Delépine.
As dinner in this town tends to do, things went late, and even as I slipped out close to midnight, trays of Negronis were still being held by Maxim’s waiters and all the principals were still in attendance.
“I can’t believe they’re still going,” said De Salvo, nodding toward Obrist and Biesenbach, deep in conversation with Mrs. Prada.
There was much discussion of whether the Avant-Première gambit worked in everyone’s favor. It was designed to address the issue of overcrowding: too many hangers-on, not enough buyers. But one dealer at dinner was slightly concerned about the possibility that some collectors would think that everything had already sold to those who got early access and wouldn’t show up.
But on Wednesday morning I dropped into the classic opening day of the fair, and it was just as crowded as any fair in recent memory. What’s more, stuff was moving. Rick Owens and his wife, Michèle Lamy, were on the scene, which was quite exciting to dealers in the booths. Zwirner had two editioned Richter prints, each in an edition of 12—by Wednesday it had sold 16 of them, netting $6.4 million. Pace had sold that Modigliani for just under $10 million, and by Wednesday White Cube had sold a Julie Mehretu for $11.5 million.
But there was something much bigger—I heard on the ground of the fair that Hauser & Wirth had sold a 1987 Richter painting that had an asking price of $23 million. Not only that, it was not presold; there was no guarantee a deep-pocketed Gerhard-head would waltz into the booth. But someone came up to the booth during the Avant-Première, saw the picture, liked the picture, and paid something around $23 million for the picture.
It’s not, by any means, the hottest take in the literary world to say, “Gee, a lot of Kevin Federline’s memoir was about Britney Spears, huh?” Federline and Spears married in September 2004 after a whirlwind courtship of just a few months. Two years and two kids later, Spears filed for divorce.
Federline is now 47 years old, but damn if that brief marriage nearly two decades back doesn’t take up the majority of ink in You Thought You Knew, his new memoir, which hit shelves Tuesday. Not only does the 228-page tome provide plenty of insight into what Federline thinks of his ex-wife’s past and current mental state, it’s a remarkable case study of he-said, she-said hypocrisy. Federline and ghostwriter Alex Holstein, editor-in-chief of boutique publisher Listenin, deliver a tale of a man who feels he’s been wronged by a woman, while engaging in some of the same behaviors he demonizes her for.
Federline told Vanity Fair that the book in which he accuses his ex-wife of doing hard drugs while breastfeeding their children, shares details of their intimate encounters, and openly questions whether her 13-year legal conservatorship should have been lifted, is in pursuit of a better life for Spears.
“I’m just trying to help,” he says. “This isn’t about hurting or bringing anybody down. It’s about trying to get to a place where it’s like, come on, there is still a path forward that involves you and the kids and people around you that love you, that want to bridge that gap.”
It’s OK when Kevin does it—for varying definitions of “it”—but not Britney. Spears published her own New York Times bestselling memoir, The Woman In Me, almost exactly two years ago. Federline makes appearances, though less prominently than the role she plays in his book. Federline says he has read her memoir, but he hesitated when asked if he felt it accurately depicted their time together.
“Look, I feel like she has the right to tell her story, and I don’t know how accurate all of it was, but I think a lot of people will stay silent on it because they just want to see her get better,” he tells VF. “Like I said, everybody has a right to tell their story.”
Spears has already publicly pushed back on Federline’s allegations. (He says he hasn’t heard from her directly: “I haven’t spoken to her in years. We haven’t been able to communicate like that for a long time.”) Before the book’s publication date, Spears wrote on X, “The constant gaslighting from ex-husband is extremely hurtful and exhausting. I have always pleaded and screamed to have a life with my boys.” She continued, “Relationships with teenage boys is complex. I have felt demoralized by this situation and have always asked and almost begged for them to be a part of my life.”
The first and final scenes of any film are vital, and contained within these bookends you can find the entire story of Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere. Unfortunately, nearly everything in between is standard biopic filler and reinforces filmmaker Scott Cooper’s unique position in the Hollywood landscape: he’s a tremendous director of actors and quite unremarkable at most other parts of the job.
Based on Warren Zanes’ Bruce Springsteen biography of the same name, the film (which Cooper both directed and wrote) tells the story of how the famed heartland rocker created Nebraska—perhaps his most time-tested album—but it seldom has anything to say beyond observing his emotional troubles during this period, often at great dramatic distance. Despite this contained focus on a one-year period, Deliver Me From Nowhere is very much a decades-spanning saga in the tale of most by-the-numbers “true stories” about revered figures and begins with a monochrome depiction of a young Springsteen (Matthew Pellicano Jr.) listening to his father (Stephen Graham) abuse his mother (Gaby Hoffmann) in the next room. A hard cut from his haunted expression to the adult Springsteen (Jeremy Allen White) delivering a full-throated, thoroughly embodied performance of “Born to Run” in 1981 creates a strange but appropriate thematic link between these childhood events and Springsteen’s ’70s mega-hit. Regardless of what the song was actually about (in short: a girl), its lyrics become an obvious cipher here for a man escaping his past at lightspeed. If only the rest of the film had maintained this momentum.
As mentioned, Deliver Me From Nowhere does in fact conclude with a touching gesture toward catharsis, so in theory one could string these brief opening and closing acts together to create a much more impactful short film without losing very much by way of story. However, viewers then wouldn’t be treated to the real delights of a Scott Cooper joint: broad caricatures who become imbued with beating humanity in a way so few American filmmakers tend to manage. As Springsteen begins work on his next album, he sees the process as a long-overdue exorcism of personal demons, while his record executives et al. want more hits for the radio. The Boss, however, is largely shielded from these demands, leaving his manager and producer Jon Landau (Jeremy Strong) to advocate on his behalf.
This side of things—the logistics of creating the next big hit or cultural phenomenon—features little by way of discernible drama despite the many arguments that play out in the confines of various offices. And yet it can be intriguing to watch in its own way, as Landau becomes the de facto point-of-view character for lengthy stretches, talking up Springsteen’s genius to anyone who’ll listen (including and especially David Krumholtz’s Columbia record exec) while barely giving any pushback to the artist himself. There’s a sense of inevitability to Nebraska coming into being (and the iconic Born in the U.S.A. after it, which used many of his original concepts for the former). On one hand, this rarely affords the movie any meaningful stakes. On the other, it allows Strong to create a cautiously eager version of Landau who practically bleeds adoration for Springsteen. Similarly, Paul Walter Hauser plays an eager recording engineer who goes along with Springsteen’s intentionally lo-fi plans for Nebraska, while Marc Maron plays a mostly silent studio mixer who, despite a few incredulous reactions, largely goes along with things. After all, who is he, and who are any of them, to question the Boss?
This kind of idolatry is usually the raison d’être for jukebox “IP” biopics like Deliver Me From Nowhere, and there’s a refreshing honesty to the hagiography refracted in Strong’s doting gaze. Granted, the film is prevented from veering into full-on Boss propaganda by the personal half of the story, in which he enters a romance with radiant single mother Faye Romano (Odessa Young), a relationship that feels doomed by the very same inevitability that colors the movie’s making-of-Nebraska half. He offers her, up front, a premonition of what will inevitably happen—that he won’t be able to commit himself to loving her so long as this album and its ghosts hang around his neck—but with the movie’s parameters all clearly established, in the studio and behind closed doors, there remains little reason to watch it beyond its performances. Springsteen will prioritize his work, people will laud his musical talent and he will eventually confront the wounds of his past, but none of these are framed as part of a story where Springsteen’s or anyone’s human impulses threaten to derail the inevitable for even a moment.
White’s conception of Springsteen is joyful to witness, not just for the way he impersonates the Boss’s gravelly voice and vein-popping performances but for the way he conjures Springsteen’s spirit through exaggeration. He crafts a sense of mood (and moodiness) where the film might not otherwise contain it, brooding to the extreme and sitting in Jersey and New York diner booths hunched over to the side, leaning so far that he threatens to keel over. He doesn’t so much play Springsteen as he does an imaginary, effortlessly cool, deeply tormented version that James Dean might have portrayed, and Deliver Me From Nowhere is slightly better for it. In tandem with Masanobu Takayanagi’s cinematography, which subtly silhouettes the superstar and turns him into an icon even in mundane settings, the film has tremendous physical architecture even if its emotional architecture is practically null.
SPRINGSTEEN: DELIVER ME FROM NOWHERE ★★ (2/4 stars) Directed by: Scott Cooper Written by: Scott Cooper Starring: Jeremy Allen White, Jeremy Strong, Paul Walter Hauser, Stephen Graham, Odessa Young, David Krumholtz, Gaby Hoffmann, Harrison Sloan Gilbertson, Grace Gummer, Marc Maron, Matthew Pellicano Jr. Running time: 114 mins.
Clichés abound in the form of flowery dialogue, but the kind that, when imbued with enough cinematic gusto—Springsteen speaks of “finding silence amongst the noise”—can transcend their trappings and become jubilant. Unfortunately, here they end up as overwritten pablum that struggles to convey meaning.
There are movie references aplenty, from Springsteen discovering dark subject matter through a Terrence Malick film and flashbacks of him enjoying Charles Laughton’s sumptuous The Night of the Hunter with his father. But these only serve as mood boards, presented as-is when Springsteen watches them, rather than becoming stylistic or thematic influences for the artist or for the film at large. They become reminders of how comparatively little by way of style or philosophy Cooper puts into his work, even if his protagonist can be seen watching them, enjoying them and being influenced by them in a way that makes his wheels silently turn. But what that influence leads to, and the synapses it fires, remain something of a mystery.
At the end of the day, Deliver Me From Nowhere is a film worth looking at and observing from the same distance that Cooper frames his impenetrable version of Springsteen, whose troubles hover over his creative process like a gloomy cloud. But the camera seldom looks past the pristine surfaces it creates in order to explore those problems or Springsteen’s connection to the many lyrics we see him jotting down throughout the runtime. “Double album??” he scrawls at one point, underlining it twice in a gesture that hilariously ends up with about as much weight and meaning as any of Springsteen’s actual lyrics—in a film nominally about the lifelong pain that fuels them. Sure. Double album. Why the hell not?
The added bonus was, of course, that his mom is “kind of his best friend,” and his dog, Morty, had more people to give him attention. He also contributed to household chores, fixing his parents’ boat, taking out the trash, and bringing in deliveries when they came to the door. He ended up staying for almost 10 months, working from home and spending most of his time developing an app.
A competitive weightlifter, he describes himself as “not too political.” He says that some “trad sons” who live at home stand outside of “normal masculinity,” as he puts it. “Is it because you’re living at home because of the pressure, you can’t go out, and you can’t live your life?” he asks. But in his case, “it’s intelligent; it’s efficient,” he says. “Things happen in your life, and if you’re doing it because you have a good opportunity, kind of like how I was, and it truly is temporary.”
For other trad sons, the decision to move home was less of an afterthought and more of a choice. Take 33-year-old Luke Jonathan Parkhurst, who quit his job as a door-to-door salesman to move in with his mom, Patty, in Las Vegas. “What prompted it is, I just wanted to,” he tells Vanity Fair. “I packed up and moved home and sold my house.”
Patty was entirely supportive of his decision. “We don’t know, especially men, where their mental health is; they’re always taught not to cry, be strong,” she says. “All my kids really did launch early in life, including Luke. If any of them needed a reset, I want to be that person that can be there for them.”
A typical day for Parkhurst as a “hub-son,” the phrase his mom coined in an interview with The New York Post, starts with going to the gym while she walks his dog. He’ll then use her Costco card to get groceries, head home, and cook them lunch. After that, the afternoon agenda consists of lying by the pool, doing the chores, and then watching his nieces and nephews play soccer.
On Monday night Vanity Fair hosted its second annual kickoff event with Art Basel at the Four Seasons George V, that hulking castle of a nearly century-old hotel that has some of the most expensive suites on earth. The night before the fair opens is typically a busy one, with small private dinners hosted by art dealers and museum directors dotting the town, but the cocktail party managed to get a nice cross section of folks who swung by before or after dinner obligations.
Naturally, those mentioned in the recent Art Issue managed to turn up. Over in one corner Shaun Caley Regen, the founder of one of LA’s most prominent galleries, Regen Projects, was talking to the influential collector and CAA agent Beth Swofford, with Château Shatto’s Olivia Barrett right nearby, along with Bridget Donahue and Hannah Hoffman of the newly formed Hoffman Donahue—a scene straight out of a feature in the issue mapping out the Art Galaxy, which has a special sector called Planet Hollywood.
And then there were the museum directors. Max Hollein, director of The Met, was there talking to Loïc Gouzer, the founder of the one-lot auction app Fair Warning. Dia director Jessica Morgan came in triumphant: She curated one of the hottest shows in town, “Minimal,” at the Bourse de Commerce, the private museum founded by François Pinault. Klaus Biesenbach, director of Berlin’s Neue Nationalgalerie, arrived a bit on the late end (he told me he had to go to a Patti Smith concert), and Scott Rothkopf of The Whitney was there on the late end too.
Also around was Naomi Beckwith, the Guggenheim chief creator who is also prepping the much anticipated Documenta in Kassel, Germany, in 2027. To that end, she chatted with critic Jason Farago about the best places to eat in Kassel—Farago mentioned that the late Okwui Enwezor once took a New York Times reporter to an Italian spot in town called La Frasca, but he couldn’t verify its quality himself.
When I asked my executive assistant to proof my first superintendent’s report for the public board packet, she came back and said that she was surprised that I gave so much credit to others for the work being completed by the district. A simple leadership lesson I learned from David Fridlington, my favorite battalion commander in the military, was to use your position to take care of your people and support them. He told everyone that when he presided over a promotion ceremony, he said: “Use this rank to take care of your soldiers.”
One basic concept is that when things go well, give credit to those who did the work, even if you provided the direction. Your board or other supervisors should understand that success requires leadership. The opposite is true as well. When things do not go well, the leader needs to step in and accept the blame. Even if a subordinate was negligent and their performance needs to be addressed, there is never justification for doing it in a public forum.
The traditional leadership trap
For decades, educational leadership has often mirrored the corporate world’s focus on individual achievement and personal branding. Superintendents, principals, and department heads have felt pressure to position themselves as the architects of every success, the faces of every initiative, and the voices behind every innovation. This approach, while understandable given the accountability pressures facing education leaders, creates a dangerous dynamic that undermines both team morale and long-term organizational success.
When leaders consistently claim credit for achievements, they inadvertently signal to their teams that individual contributions are less valuable than executive oversight. Faculty members, administrators, and support staff begin to feel invisible, their efforts overshadowed by leadership’s need for recognition. This dynamic is particularly damaging in educational environments, where collaboration and shared ownership of student success are essential.
Smart educational leaders understand that their primary role is not as the star of the show, but to direct in such a way that every cast member shines. When a high school’s test scores improve dramatically, the effective principal doesn’t schedule interviews to discuss their leadership philosophy. Instead, they organize a celebration highlighting the innovative teaching strategies developed by their faculty, the dedication of support staff, and the hard work of the students.
This approach accomplishes several critical objectives simultaneously. First, it builds tremendous goodwill and loyalty among team members who feel genuinely appreciated and recognized. Teachers who see their principal celebrating their classroom innovations in district newsletters or community presentations develop a deeper commitment to the school’s mission. They feel valued as both implementers of directives and as creative professionals whose expertise helps drive student success.
Building trust through recognition
Education leaders who consistently spotlight their teams create an atmosphere of trust that permeates the entire organization. When a superintendent highlights individual schools’ achievements without inserting themselves into the narrative, principals and teachers recognize that their leader is secure enough in their own position to share credit freely. This security translates into psychological safety throughout the organization, encouraging innovation and risk-taking that leads to better educational outcomes.
Consider the university department chair who, when presenting research achievements to the dean, leads with faculty accomplishments rather than departmental management strategies. Graduate students and professors in that department understand that their work will be recognized and celebrated, not appropriated by administrative oversight. This recognition culture attracts top talent and retains valuable team members who might otherwise seek environments where their contributions receive proper acknowledgment.
The ripple effect of recognition
When leaders consistently elevate their teams, they create a cascade of positive behaviors throughout the organization. Teachers who feel appreciated by their principals are more likely to recognize and celebrate their students’ achievements. Support staff who see their contributions highlighted become more invested in finding innovative solutions to operational challenges. The entire educational community benefits when recognition flows freely rather than accumulating at the top of the organizational chart.
This dynamic is particularly powerful in educational settings because it models the same growth mindset we want to instill in students. When young people see adults in their schools celebrating each other’s successes and sharing credit generously, they learn valuable lessons about collaboration, humility, and community building that extend far beyond academic subjects.
Strategic communication for team-focused leaders
Educational leaders might worry that stepping back from the spotlight will make them appear weak or uninvolved. The reality is quite the opposite. Stakeholders, from school board members to parents to community partners, are sophisticated enough to recognize that strong leaders create environments where others can excel. A principal who consistently highlights teacher innovations demonstrates their ability to recruit, develop, and retain talent. A superintendent who celebrates individual school achievements shows their skill at creating systems that enable success across diverse environments.
The key is strategic communication that makes the leader’s supporting role visible without overshadowing team members. When presenting achievements, effective leaders briefly acknowledge their role in creating conditions for success before diving deep into team member accomplishments. They might say, “We’ve worked hard to create an environment where innovation can flourish, and I’m excited to share what our incredible faculty has accomplished.”
Practical implementation strategies
Educational leaders can begin implementing this philosophy immediately through simple but powerful changes in communication habits. Instead of using “I” language when discussing successes, they can shift to “we” and “they” language that emphasizes team contributions. Rather than accepting speaking engagements about leadership strategies, they can recommend team members as presenters on innovative practices.
Internal communications offer rich opportunities for team recognition. Weekly newsletters, staff meetings, and board presentations become venues for celebrating individual and group achievements. Social media platforms allow leaders to amplify team member successes to broader audiences, creating positive publicity for both individuals and the organization. Two of the deans I currently work with are excellent examples of such active supporters of their faculty. Informal leaders can participate as well by highlighting their colleagues’ accomplishments via posting congratulatory notes on LinkedIn or other social media sites.
The long-term leadership legacy
Education leaders who consistently spotlight their teams create lasting legacies that extend far beyond their tenure. They build cultures of recognition and collaboration that persist even when leadership changes. More importantly, they develop future leaders among their team members who understand that true leadership means elevating others.
In an era when educational institutions face unprecedented challenges, from funding constraints to political pressures to rapidly changing technology, leaders who can inspire and retain talented teams have a significant competitive advantage. These leaders understand that their success is measured not by their personal recognition, but by their ability to create environments where others can achieve their highest potential.
The most effective leaders recognize that the spotlight is not a zero-sum game. When they illuminate their teams’ achievements, they don’t diminish their own leadership; they demonstrate it in its most powerful form. In education, where the ultimate goal is developing human potential, leaders who model this philosophy create ripple effects that benefit students, staff, and communities for years to come.
Dr. Steve Baule is a faculty member at Winona State University (WSU), where he teaches in the Leadership Education Department. Prior to joining WSU, Baule spent 28 years in K-12 school systems in Illinois, Indiana, and Iowa, and two years teaching in the University of Wisconsin System. For the 13 years prior to moving to the university level, Baule served as a public -school superintendent. He has written 10 books on a variety of educational and historical topics and has served on the editorial boards for two journals. Baule earned an advanced diversity and equity certificate while in the UW system. He holds a doctorate in instructional technology from Northern Illinois University and a doctorate in educational leadership and policy studies from Loyola University Chicago.
Baule’s scholarly interests focus on online student engagement, educational technology– particularly the impact of 1:1 implementations, social-emotional learning, and the history of education. Baule led several efforts to improve student emotional health and reduce discipline issues prior to moving into higher education. He also writes on aspects of early American history.
Baule has held memberships in the American Association of School Administrators, the American Library Association, the American Association of School Librarians, the Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development, the Consortium for School Networking, the International Association of School Librarians, the National Association of Secondary School Principals, the National Staff Development Council, and many of their state affiliates. He has served as a consultant in the areas of educational technology, facilities design, library program development, team building, and communications.
Latest posts by Steven M. Baule, Ed.D., Ph.D. (see all)
Fiction has a way of probing the reality of a particular moment in history that you can’t always get from pure fact. Whether it’s a tale of historical fiction or something altogether imagined but imbued with political truth, the best political novels tend to resonate on a deep emotional level, affecting the reader and imparting a sense of the stakes beyond what can be gleaned from mere dates, figures and even the events themselves.
To that end, here’s a brief list of must-read political novels from the past hundred years that have something vital to impart about the world we live in today. They span a range of countries and contexts, but all address the world’s most looming issues in unique and engaging ways. This list is by no means intended to be comprehensive, so feel free to let us know what essential titles we’ve missed.
The only thing more elusive than the price of couture is the question of who, exactly, is buying it. In W’s March 1999 issue, Juergen Teller photographed a story called “The Clients.” Dennis Freedman, W’s Creative Director at the time, had asked him to shoot the couture collections, and Teller decided to photograph the clothes on actual clients—including Marie-Chantal of Greece, Ann Getty, and Deeda Blair. For our Originals Issue, W Editor in Chief Sara Moonves asked Teller to revisit the portfolio. At the July couture shows, he shot the new generation of couture clients, from Princess Olympia of Greece (the daughter of Marie-Chantal) and Ivy Getty (the granddaughter of Ann) to Alexa Dell (of the technology conglomerate). Below, 11 patrons explain why they buy couture.
Ivy Getty
Ivy Getty wears a Maison Margiela Artisanal dress and mask.
Can you see out of that mask?
You can, but not enough where I’m like, Oh, that’s how the models walked. This is part of couture— it’s not meant to be easy to wear. You’re doing it for fashion.
When did you start going to shows?
My first ready-to-wear Fashion Week ever was in 2015. It was Paris, and I was with my grandma [philanthropist and fashion darling Ann Getty]. For couture, I think it was with the photographer Ellen von Unwerth in 2021. I was very excited that Ellen wanted to go with me to the Giambattista Valli show. Right before it, she came to my room and was like, “Let’s have a photo shoot right now.” A couple months later, she said, “Are you coming to the dinner tonight?” I was like, “What dinner?” She was like, “For the magazine cover.” She put me on the cover of her magazine and didn’t even tell me!
Do you have a group of couture friends?
You get to know people—I used to think maybe these are my fashion friends, but these really are your friends. I get FOMO when I miss couture, obviously because of the shows, but I get FOMO from seeing my friends all together.
A few years ago, John Galliano made you a couture wedding gown. What was it like working with him?
He understands people very quickly—he’ll know me better than I know myself when making any decision. He finds inspiration in literally a crack in the sidewalk. It’s something I won’t ever understand, but it’s like whatever Albert Einstein had with math.
Princess Maria-Olympia of Greece and Denmark
Princess Maria-Olympia of Greece and Denmark wears a Dior Haute Couture dress; Dior High Jewelry necklace; Manolo Blahnik shoes.
What was your first couture show?
When I was 10 years old, I went to the 45th anniversary Valentino couture show in Rome. I sat on my dad’s lap. I ended up interning for Dior when I was 17. After that, I started attending shows on my own.
In 1999, Juergen Teller did a photo series for W similar to this one, and your mom, Marie-Chantal, Crown Princess of Greece, was in it. Have you seen that photo?
It’s in New York in her bedroom. A couple days before I got the email about this shoot, I was standing in the room staring at the portrait, like, God, that really just is one of the coolest photos in the whole world. I would do anything to be shot by him.
Does she still have the feathered Balmain by Oscar de la Renta gown she wore in her portrait?
I’m going to text her right now…. She says, “Hmm, I think I do :)”
Do you get her couture hand- me-downs?
During Covid, I was in the English countryside with my mother. There was a room in the attic. I thought it was a storage space for furniture. I was bored, and I saw it unlocked. I found my mother’s couture dresses. I was like, How has she been hiding this from me for so long?
A few people have described couture as a club. Is that true?
You’re literally so right. The shows are like going back to summer camp or something.
Claire Paull
Claire Paull wears a Dior Haute Couture dress; Dior High Jewelry earrings, necklace, and ring.
Your job is far from the fashion world—you’re the vice president of global marketing at Amazon Ads. How did you get into couture?
My mother had a really beautiful wardrobe. She would always wear Chanel and St. John. I spent a lot of time in her closet, daydreaming. She would say, “You can have all these things Mommy has—you could have even better—but you have to work.” I often tease that when I’m 85 years old and no longer working at Amazon, I’ll be an intern for Chanel or Dior.
Are you the best-dressed Amazon employee?
It’s a tech company. People wear jeans, and it’s very casual. I dress. I often wear a long Dior skirt, a T-shirt, slingbacks, and a cardigan. Or I will wear jeans and a Chanel or Dior sweater.
You live in New York—how often do you make it to the Paris couture shows?
It comes down to what I can make happen. Last July, I was sitting in a conference room in Seattle, and I got a text from Dior: “Claire, will you please come to couture?” All I wanted was to make that happen. Then I remembered: Claire, you shouldn’t. You’re going to have to miss a bunch of things for work.
What’s your favorite piece in your collection?
I think I’m going to order this Dior red dress. If I already owned it, that would be the answer.
Christine Chiu
Christine Chiu wears a Dolce & Gabbana Alta Moda blouse, bra, skirt, earrings, necklace, belt, veil, tights, and shoes.
You starred in and coproduced Bling Empire, a reality show about wealthy Asian Americans in Los Angeles. On the show, people got a glimpse of your couture trove.
My dad was a huge Issey Miyake and Armani collector. He put me in Issey Miyake—they don’t make children’s wear, but he would have womenswear cut to my proportions. All I wanted to wear were pretty pink dresses and tutus. I was fortunate enough to marry a man who wanted me to tap into that part of my imagination and creativity. You have to ease into couture. I started with the shoes and accessories. We’re talking about a $40,000 belt and $25,000 boots.
How big is your collection?
I’ve been buying since I was 25, maybe 26. Now I’m 42. I’ve never had a season where I haven’t purchased something.
What’s your favorite piece?
My favorite piece I haven’t worn is a Dior gold house. They were renovating their maison on Avenue Montaigne, and they decided to make a gold human-size replica. I saw it, and I was like, Yes, I have to have that. It’s light enough to walk around in—it’s not solid gold.
What couture etiquette have you learned?
As someone who was a first-generation haute couture buyer at 25, I definitely did not say the right things. My first big faux pas was asking what the price was. There was silence. You could see color drain from faces in shock. You ask for “information,” and they prepare a whole packet. Chanel had tweed portfolios with inserts, and at the bottom was the price in calligraphy. You’re supposed to delicately say, “I would like to discover more information.”
I heard you once bought a Dolce & Gabbana couture dress, and they made you a couture padded booty short to go underneath it.
My husband is a plastic surgeon, so it’s ironic. Surgically, he can help create whatever silhouette I envision for myself, but couture can do the same thing.
Cecily Waud
Cecily Waud wears a Chanel Haute Couture coat, dress, and boots; her own jewelry.
You work in interior design and, as you described it, formerly did “diplomatic stuff.” When did you get into couture?
When I was really young, with my mom, mainly at Dior. Over the years, you get to know everybody. I started being invited to the couture shows before I bought couture, actually.
What was your first couture piece?
I was married before, and Maria Grazia Chiuri at Dior did my wedding dress. I rewore the dress for Chiuri’s last show for Dior because all the women had to wear white. A lot of us decided to rewear the wedding dresses she’d made us.
Do you still do shows and appointments with your mom?
I’ll FaceTime her. If she doesn’t like something, she’ll say, “No, we’re not paying for that, sweetie.”
Have you purchased any couture recently?
My family’s color is lavender. I just had a Chanel jacket made, and they did lavender stitching. Their buttons are the most fun thing to pick, ever. They have the biggest selection of the craziest buttons. But they didn’t have one that worked out of, like, 30,000 buttons. I wanted a super light lavender one with a gold star in the middle.
How different are ready-to-wear and couture shows?
Ready-to-wear shows are just such zoos. With couture, it feels a lot more intimate. It’s not Instagram models trying to get a shot to be like, “I came to the show.” Couture is more like going to an art gallery.
Alexa Dell
Alexa Dell wears a Schiaparelli Haute Couture dress.
You come from the tech world—your dad, Michael Dell, started Dell Technologies, and you’ve had a few tech-focused jobs. When did you get into buying couture?
I’m new to collecting and have two pieces so far. The first is my Schiaparelli wedding gown. From September 2024 to March 2025, the dress traveled as much as I did: a muslin fitting in Los Angeles; two fittings at Place Vendôme, in Paris; and a final session back in L.A., where the atelier stitched my name into the lining. The second is from Jean Paul Gaultier Haute Couture by Ludovic de Saint Sernin—the “sand” dress I wore during the wedding weekend.
Will you wear them again?
They’re meant to live, not hide in storage. The Schiaparelli bodice could pair with vintage jeans, and the skirt with a simple tank for an anniversary dinner someday.
How quickly do you know which garments you want?
I can usually trust my first reaction.
Lauren Amos
Lauren Amos wears a Balenciaga Couture jacket, skirt, belt, gloves, and bag.
You’ve been buying experimental fashion for your Atlanta boutiques, Wish and Antidote, since 2004. When did you start personally collecting couture?
I got into couture through Iris van Herpen. I’m on the board of the High Museum of Art, in Atlanta. We brought her in for her first exhibition in America in 2015, and she let me borrow a dress—I ended up buying it. It’s a jump going from ready-to-wear to couture. But she was young in her career, and I knew I was supporting an artist.
How long have you been buying Balenciaga couture?
When Demna came in, I was like, What is this situation? I was obsessed. Then I got really irritated with some of the designs. I felt like, Is someone making fun of me? Are they in a boardroom like, “Hahaha, look at this girl. She spent $5,000 on a polyester dress?” But the things I’m challenged by the most are the things with which I end up having the biggest love affair. Then I got invited to my first couture show—I think it was Demna’s first, too. I remember thinking, Oh my god, this is incredible. I walked my way right into an appointment to buy.
How many fittings are usually required for a couture piece?
Well, Iris has a 3D rendering of my body. We have a mannequin for me at the atelier.
Do you reserve your couture pieces for special occasions?
I’ve worn a couture piece to work before. I try to not put anything on too high a pedestal.
How do you store the garments?
Someone keeps all of my stuff in L.A. I’m a steward of the pieces. I have a responsibility to take care of them, and I have five cats.
Natasha Poonawalla
Natasha Poonawalla wears an Iris van Herpen Haute Couture dress; Rombaut for Iris van Herpen Haute Couture shoes; her own jewelry.
You and your family work in biotechnology: Your husband is the CEO of the Serum Institute of India, the country’s largest vaccine manufacturer, which your father-in-law founded. Now you’re the executive director of the company. But you’re also known as a fixture on the couture circuit.
In India, the idea of customization and craftsmanship is deeply embedded in our culture. One of my first formal purchases was for my wedding: a couture gown by Abu Jani Sandeep Khosla, for our reception in India.
Do you rewear pieces?
Absolutely. That’s the beauty of couture: You buy less, you buy well, and you celebrate the artistry behind it. One of my favorite mix-and-match moments was pairing a Schiaparelli bustier with a Sabyasachi sari dripping with Indian jewels. Whimsical fashion and beautiful things are mood elevators—and sometimes conversation starters, too.
How much do you tweak the runway designs?
Sometimes I have a clear vision—usually a version of the runway piece tailored to better suit my body— but it’s always the designer’s creation. I see myself as a collaborator, not a codesigner.
Allison Sarofim
Allison Sarofim wears a Giambattista Valli Haute Couture bustier gown; Graff High Jewellery earrings, necklace, and ring.
Although you were born and raised in Houston—and spend a lot of time on Oahu, where you developed your beauty line, Loulu Hawai’i—you’re known for throwing the most fashionable Halloween party in Manhattan, which sometimes involves couture costumes. When did you start buying couture?
I’m dear friends with Giambattista Valli, and I was at his first couture show, in 2011. I’ve worn his designs for years to the Met Gala and to my Halloween parties. There may have been a custom cat tail involved when I was Pussy Couture—after the James Bond character Pussy Galore.
What’s the fitting process like for a couture garment?
Luckily, I fit into most of the sample pieces. Giamba will change, like, 2 millimeters on the neck. I’m very short-waisted—the waistlines are a little too long on me, but the hem isn’t. You have to change the waistline, not the hemline. It’s little things like that that make couture very different.
Where do you keep your couture?
I donate most of my pieces back to the designers for their archives. The Matières Fécales suit I wore to this year’s Met Gala is on a mannequin on display in my closet. It’s like the portrait of Dorian Gray in the attic!
Hayley Sullivan
Hayley Sullivan wears a Viktor & Rolf Haute Couture coat; Manolo Blahnik shoes; her own earrings.
In January, you married Deven Marrero, a former MLB player, and wore multiple Dior couture garments for the festivities. Why Dior?
I met with several different houses, and each house came back with some preliminary drawings. Dior just really felt like they zoomed into my soul and saw me. My dress came on a mannequin in a 10-foot-tall box. My mom was like, “How are we going to get this in the house?” Once you understand the craftsmanship and the art behind couture, then you’re like, Well, here I am. Can’t turn back the clock. It’s also part of my professional life as the founder of the Styled by Collective. So I have an easier time justifying being a couture client. We’re not buying fast fashion that ends up in landfills, which is horrible for the environment and in terms of labor laws.
What’s your approach to buying?
These are things that I actually want to live my life in. How you dress is the corporeal experience of your personality and who you are.
Houses typically make one couture garment per continent. How quickly do you have to claim a piece?
I’ve had it happen where I tried something on and I loved it. I needed to think about it—it was early in Couture Week, and I was like, I’m not ready to put the deposit down. Twenty-four hours later, it was gone.
Jordan Roth
Jordan Roth wears a Giorgio Armani Privé jacket; Boucheron headpiece and brooch.
For decades, you’ve been a Broadway theater producer. Your well-documented wardrobe is very theatrical too.
Fashion has always been a vocabulary for me. Couture is the fantasy, that glorious gown on a hill. But it was meant for bodies that didn’t look like mine. It wasn’t until Clare Waight Keller at Givenchy showed men’s couture that I felt invited. I went to the salon to see the first Givenchy pieces, and, my god, going to a couture salon is like the doors of heaven have opened.
Did you buy anything from that collection?
I saw this blouse, impeccably pleated chiffon that hung in an X formation across the body. I thought, Well, that’s the angel. I was a few months away from opening the Broadway revival of Angels in America that I coproduced, and I said, “I’m going to wear that.” In true couture magic, they proposed embroidering feathers on the collar. It’s a two-part play, seven hours in total. The entire time, I sat at the edge of my seat with my back off the chair so that I would not crease this magnificent crepe chiffon.
What’s it like working with the ateliers on garments?
My first several couture pieces were made for special experiences in my life. They would start with something I wanted to express about an event. Often, that would manifest as text I would write to become a vision-slash–mission statement of the piece. And I’d bring that to the right designer to explore the idea.
Has buying couture changed the way you dress generally?
Oh, yes. It’s a constant expanding of the canvas, of the possibilities. Watching it be created is the daily affirmation that anything we imagine can be made real. It’s the unboundedness, the belief in the impossible.
Princess Maria-Olympia of Greece and Denmark: Hair by Patrick Wilson for Oribe at the Wall Group; makeup by Tobi Henney for Mac Cosmetics at the Wall Group. On-set grooming for all talent: Gor Duryan at Agence Saint Germain Paris. Produced by Cinq Étoiles Productions; producer: Lucas Lechevalier; production manager: Jonathan Arapis; first photo assistant: Felipe Chaves; postproduction: Louwre Erasmus at Quickfix; fashion assistant: Mei Ling Cooper; production assistant: Louisa Kocher; tailor: Charline Gentilhomme at the Tailor Team.
This year marks the 35th anniversary of Undercover, the Tokyo-based brand you started when you were 21. You have transformed streetwear with evocatively layered references, from punk and music to film and couture. Has your design process changed since you started?
For the past 35 years, I have continued to create with almost no change, always centering on the things that interest me.
What does the name Undercover mean to you?
The name was chosen from the idea of wanting the brand to have a secretive, mysterious atmosphere.
As a student in the late ’80s, you were the vocalist in a tribute band called the Tokyo Sex Pistols. What drew you to punk?
Music and visuals that break preconceived notions, and a contrarian attitude of looking at things from a slanted angle.
You blurred the line between streetwear and high fashion long before that became mainstream.
For me, someone who spent my youth in the 1990s, blending streetwear and high fashion was a natural thing. Although it seems that many products nowadays imitate that direction, what is important is whether there is soul in them.
While you were at Bunka Fashion College in the late ’80s, Rei Kawakubo, Yohji Yamamoto, and Issey Miyake were revolutionizing fashion with their designs. What do you remember most vividly about that era?
A struggle between my first experiences with nightlife and an overwhelming load of homework.
Some of your most memorable collections have been beautiful but eerie—for instance, the dresses inspired by the twins from The Shining, from spring 2018, and the terrarium dresses, glowing and filled with roses and butterflies, from spring 2024. What do you want people to feel when they see those shows?
The complex emotions usually kept locked away deep in the heart.
A look from the Undercover fall 2025 collection.
Estrop/Getty Images Entertainment/Getty Images
Music has played a major role in your collections. How do you translate sound into fashion?
Music is always accompanied by record jackets, artwork, and the visuals of artists. I use these elements and translate them into clothing.
What are you listening to these days?
Recently, I listen mainly to Japanese rock and pop. The Kosmik Musik playlist I’ve been releasing on Spotify includes fantastical songs, tracks that emphasize intensity, songs that convey calmness, and more. I hope to express a progression like that of a movie.
You are known as a big runner. What’s your routine?
Three times a week, each time six to 10 kilometers. I’m eliminating negative thoughts. I consider running a meditative activity for fostering design ideas and mental composure.
Painting has been your personal hobby for years. The first public exhibition of your art, They Can See More Than You Can See, was in Tokyo in 2023. What does painting give you that fashion does not?
Drawing is a more personal and free creative activity. What I gain from it is a self I didn’t know before. That is what I seek.
Your paintings often depict hybrid figures or haunting faces. Are they autobiographical in any way?
Maybe so. I don’t particularly pay attention to it, though.
Do you ever see your painting and fashion practices colliding?
Your fall 2024 show was held at London’s Savoy Hotel, in the ballroom where Christian Dior once showed. Alex Consani opened; the soundtrack included Björk, as well as monologues from the viral star Tokyo Toni; and your muse Tish Weinstock closed the show in a wedding gown decorated with discarded iPod headphones. It was…
A mind fuck!
But in a good way! Your brand, which you officially launched in 2021, is built around sustainability—a majority of your garments are made from deadstock fabrics or postconsumer waste. How do you manage to balance that with humor?
You have moments when you’ve been working for 15 hours, and you zoom out and realize that you’re debating the hem on a chiffon dress. Then you’re like, Wow, this is so silly. Humor keeps a sense of lightness that is more necessary than ever before. The first thing I say about sustainability is there’s nothing sustainable about making new clothes. I just try to ensure that everything we’re doing can be held within my conscience in a way that I’m proud of.
You attended the fashion program at London’s Central Saint Martins and continue to live and work in London, but you were born and raised in Bedford, New York. What were your earliest memories of fashion?
There’s a famous story that my mom always tells: One of her girlfriends was over, and at the age of 2 or 3, I was telling her, “I love the way your boots go with your skirt.”
At your fall 2025 show, one of the most talked-about looks wasn’t actually on the runway; it was a white T-shirt that said “Protect The Dolls,” which you wore to take a bow. You ended up selling them and donating most of the proceeds to benefit Trans Lifeline, a crisis hotline.
I was so uncomfortable with how things had gone in the months prior. Donald Trump was reelected; we were watching rights being stripped away. I had to say something, and it came back to this question of, well, what is being threatened right now? This felt like a small way we could provide hope. I could never have expected the response that we got. As of right now, I think we’ve donated over half a million pounds to Trans Lifeline. It feels like the proudest moment of my career.
Rihanna was an early fan of your brand. How does it feel to have that kind of support?
So many things that I dreamed of happening were arranged or cosigned by her. Adwoa Aboah wore a look from my first collection to the Met Gala in 2017. Rihanna came up to her and said, “Who made this?” She followed me on Instagram the next day. I didn’t realize until one of her fans DM’ed me, like, “Rihanna just followed you. Who the hell are you?” I was literally 21 at the time. It led to working for Fenty, her label with LVMH. She always ensured that whoever had something to say in meetings, she would quiet the room for them. One day she came, and I had stayed up all night doing sketches. I was a mess. She came up behind me and said, “Conner!” I turned around, and she was wearing one of my old T-shirt dresses I had gifted her. She gave me the biggest hug.
If you could place five celebrities, living or dead, in your front row, who would you choose?
Marlene Dietrich, next to Eartheater. I feel like they’d be best friends. Marisa Tomei after My Cousin Vinny—she’s almost an unsung hero. Rihanna’s never come to a show, so we have to get her there. Then Diana Vreeland, because so much of my childhood was spent in the fantasy of fashion.
When a collection is over, how do you unwind?
I love to draw. I’m always doing the work. I really struggle with a holiday. So maybe I need a retreat where someone pries the iPhone out of my hands and is like, “You need to go lie in that field and touch grass for a bit.” That sounds really ideal right now, but I would probably lose my mind.
Hair by Kei Takano for ORIBE at Agency 41; Makeup by Bari Khalique for Gucci Beauty at The Wall Group. Models: Rafe Crane-Robinson at The MiLK Collective, Tish Weinstock at Best Represents. Photo Assistant: Connor Egan; Retouching: Marine Ferrante; Fashion Assistant: Brigitte Kovats; Hair Assistant: Mariana Feliziani; Makeup Assistant: Lucy Beacall.
Stepping into Chemena Kamali’s newly renovated Chloé office, in Paris’s 8th arrondissement, is a bit like stepping into her mind. Both are fresh, focused, and warmly lit—in the case of the room, with a Diptyque Feu de Bois candle; in the case of the woman, with a desire, she says, to “carry on working with the heritage of the house while writing a new legacy for Chloé,” where she has served as creative director since 2023. Try to find a screen—you won’t. Kamali has politely turned her phone face down on a table laid with canisters of cashews, a box of chocolates, and a bowl of blueberries. On her desk, a stack of leather-bound journals overwhelms a closed laptop, and an old-school fan whirls away. “When I arrived here yesterday, I said, ‘Okay, this is a good place to start,’ ” says Kamali, taking in the freshly painted walls in the atelier. “It gives you a clean headspace.”
We’re in the waning days of August, and Kamali has just gotten back from several weeks’ holiday on Patmos. “We were supposed to go to some other Greek islands, but we liked it so much we decided to stay,” she says. There was swimming. There was reading—not one but two Susan Sontag books (On Women and Against Interpretation and Other Essays). Kamali mostly retreated into herself, she says, yet she couldn’t help snapping a few photos, aide-mémoires for a certain intriguing way that women were draping their pareos around their hips. The moment went straight into her memory bank, a reservoir of feelings and impressions from which Kamali draws her best ideas. “I love to catch an atmosphere,” she says. “It’s extremely reassuring for me, because everything moves all the time.” You heard it here first, if a few months from now we’re all dressing in beach towels.
Two years into her tenure, Kamali has solidified her place in the upper echelons of French fashion, infusing Chloé with a modern take on the buoyant, easy spirit that has characterized the house from its founding, in 1952, by Gaby Aghion. Kamali’s acclaimed first collection was shown in 2024, after the designer Gabriela Hearst exited the brand. It featured the sort of patent leather half capes, fluttery lace blouses, and liquidy gowns for which Chloé was beloved in the 1970s, under Karl Lagerfeld, and then in the early 2000s, when the Glastonbury Festival met the legendary Parisian nightclub Les Bains in the designs of Phoebe Philo and Clare Waight Keller. “In the streets of Paris and elsewhere, we missed this Chloé girl so much,” Le Figaro’s fashion critic wrote after Kamali’s debut.
Model Angelina Kendall wears Chloé clothing and accessories throughout.
The Chloé girl might be a Parisian archetype, but Kamali, 43, grew up in Dortmund, Germany, near Düsseldorf. Her parents owned several multilabel boutiques called Euro Mode. “I was never interested in selling, per se,” she explains. “What was so magical for me were the fittings, that ceremony of people trying things on.” It was the late ’80s, and Germany had, basically, two major national icons: “There was Karl Lagerfeld and Boris Becker,” Kamali recalls. She chose the sketch pad over the racket. “We all had these typical German slam books, and you’d fill out your favorite movie and what you wanted to be or whatever, and I wrote ‘Modeschöpfer,’ which is German for ‘couturier.’ ” From the age of 8, she never wavered: “This was quite distinctive from the rest of my friends or classmates. There was a very determined, clearheaded obsession about fashion very early on.”
Kamali has always been a paper person—a lover of print, a keeper of records. “Any family member who asked me what I wanted for Christmas or my birthday, I always said magazine subscriptions,” she recalls. The titles piled up: American Vogue, Italian Vogue, W. On the cusp of adolescence, Kamali was probably operating Dortmund’s finest fashion library. “I turned into a very nerdy encyclopedia,” she says. Soon she was cutting out magazine pages and photographs she loved and gluing them into notebooks, collaging them with her own drawings. When she was 11, the family moved to California, where some relatives had already immigrated. “I was incredibly excited to be in a completely different aesthetic world,” says Kamali. “And I still love this European preciseness with a Californian undoneness.”
Even now, Kamali is obsessive about safeguarding references and tracking the creation of every look. “I love recording all the steps of my process, because for me it’s like a creative visual diary,” she explains. “You explore so many different pathways—sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. By recording it, you preserve the ideas, even if they’re killed or modified and become something else.”
This archival urge most often takes the form of photos, shot with iPhone, Polaroid, and digital cameras, printed out, and sorted into boxes that she sources from a specialist art supply store in Paris. (Each box has a digital backup, just in case.) Documenting, for Kamali, is also a way of encouraging transparency in an era in which trends seem to surge up out of the digital morass, with little ownership or explanation. “It doesn’t have to be all about the finished product,” she says. “I think in the times we’re living in, people are interested in seeing where things are coming from—what was the starting point, what were the influences?”
Unlike other designers, Kamali is unusually willing to pull the curtain back on how she works. For this story, she considered Chloé’s essential design signatures—the billowy blouse, mousseline, denim, and lace, among others—and selected a look to capture the spirit of each one. “I love working with the past, and I love working with codes. I’m not afraid of them,” she says. “I don’t want to fight them—it’s about embracing them but making them evolve.” Think of Kamali’s detailed, personal telling of the Chloé story as the opposite of AI slop.
Kamali was 22 and fresh out of Germany’s Trier University of Applied Sciences when she joined Chloé for the first time, as an intern, in 2003. She had gained a highly technical education: garment construction, patternmaking, art history, chemistry. The Paris dream that she had been nurturing ever since her collaging days beckoned, so she begged her way into the atelier, headed at the time by Phoebe Philo. “There was this energy and atmosphere, this complicity,” she recalls. “Women designing for women, and it was so relatable and honest. You kind of wanted to be that girl.”
Over the past 20 years, Kamali has made herself into that girl. After the internship, there was an MA at Central Saint Martins, in London, where she learned to channel her technical prowess into a creative sensibility, followed by stints at Alberta Ferretti and Strenesse, in Milan. Kamali returned to Chloé in 2012 for a little over three years, under Clare Waight Keller. But in 2016, Saint Laurent poached her to become design director of women’s ready-to-wear. The news that Kamali was coming back to Chloé, in the fall of 2023, had the heartwarming logic of one of those wedding announcements that recall how the bride and the groom fell in love in first grade, went their separate ways, and reconnected, with great joy, in midlife. “I always had this really strong affinity for Chloé because the emotional aspect spoke to me very purely and very deeply,” says Kamali. “There aren’t a lot of brands that have this honest voice that goes beyond fashion. I was drawn to the idea of a certain natural femininity, freedom, sensuality, and lightness.”
Kamali came in with a plan. “The pitch was essentially that I wanted to bring back the old fan base,” she says. “Because I knew it was out there—my generation of women who have a memory with Chloé, whether it’s a blouse that they loved or the first perfume they wore.” Kamali’s instincts have proven correct: Her first front row—stacked with millennial icons such as Sienna Miller and Liya Kebede, all outfitted in nostalgic, graffitied cork wedges, their legs crossed so that the shoes hung in the air just so—caused a sensation. (Just don’t mention “boho chic”—at Kamali’s Chloé, the phrase is banned.)
Memory, meme-ified; fandom, activated: Depop, the fashion resale site, reported a 1,137 percent increase in searches since June for the Paddington, the quintessential Chloé bag. Parent company Richemont’s latest annual report noted that sales rose by double digits across its clothing brands, “with an encouraging performance from Chloé.” Kamali says, “In the first and second years, the thing I really wanted to accomplish was to clean up and bring everyone on board and make sure we really navigated the house back to its original roots.”
Now Kamali is moving into the second phase of the plan. It’s all about demonstrating that, in addition to Chloé’s famously fluid look, the house possesses an intellectual suppleness. “What’s really important as I move forward is the understanding that there’s not just one Chloé woman,” Kamali says. In our conversation, certain words surface again and again: “freedom,” “motion,” “flow.” I’m curious about the Chloé palette—famously identifiable, with dusty roses and washed-out sea foams and chalky caramels, yet also famously tricky to wear for women in a certain range of skin tones. “It’s a very valid question, because not everybody loves those colors,” says Kamali. “What I want to do is extend this predetermined idea of ‘Chloé is this’ or ‘Chloé is that.’ It’s good to have these very strong codes that we all associate with a house, but there’s space for moving on from them while preserving the legacy and paying tribute to it.”
Changes that might once have been perceived as heresy feel like a natural progression under Kamali’s gentle stewardship. Chloé was founded explicitly as a ready-to-wear brand, one of the first to encourage women to swear off onerous fittings and instead turn to ease and convenience. Yet, Kamali says, “even though we’re not a couture house, recently I’ve been inspired by the idea of couture.” She continues: “What would it be like if you took all the heavy construction out of those dresses, and you could just put them in the washing machine and completely destroy the preciousness, you know?” Her answer, combining “couture preciseness and light summer cottons,” sounds tantalizing.
Behind us, there’s a magnet wall covered in images and swatches of fabric. It’s not a mood board, exactly, but an extension of the documentation process that Kamali holds so dear, allowing her to get where she’s going by chronicling how she started. We stand up from the table and get closer: There are Guy Bourdin’s leggy, Surrealist women in advertising campaigns for Charles Jourdan, and many pictures from Gaby Aghion’s first Chloé shows, which were held in the late ’50s at Café de Flore and Brasserie Lipp. Kamali is particularly enthusiastic about a book she recently picked up called Shtetl in the Sun: Andy Sweet’s South Beach 1977–1980. She points to the wall, where she’s stuck a picture of senior citizens sunning themselves. “I love the prints, the bathing suits, these old hotels and pools. There’s something so fascinating about these images and the eccentricity.”
I can’t help but notice the hot pinks and lime greens that are popping out of the photos, the apple reds and cornflower blues. “I want to get into some of the colors,” says Kamali, picking up from our discussion about updating the Chloé palette. “I want to go into vivid saturation.” She takes a minute and smiles. “This house really makes me happy and really makes me proud. I brought back the initial, original idea of what Chloé should feel like. But now I’m free to make it evolve, and free to move on.”
Scenes from the model fittings for Chloé’s fall 2025 ready-to-wear show, with some of Kamali’s inspiration images for the collection.
Chemena Kamali: Hair by John Nollet at Forty-One Studio + Agency; Makeup by Anthony Preel at MA+ Group. Photo Assistant: Ryan O’Toole; Digital Technician: Romain Forquay; On-Set Production: Justine Torres at Brachfeld; Hair Assistant: Antonin Gacquer.
Hair by Sébastien Richard at Artlist Paris; makeup by Anthony Preel for Violette_FR at MA+ Group; manicure by Cam Tran for Manucurist at Artlist Paris. Model: Angelina Kendall at the Industry NY. Casting by Ashley Brokaw Casting. Set design by Hamid Shams.
Playwright and producer Jeremy O. Harris shared a similar sentiment. “I want to see Charli do whatever she wants to do. I think that’s when we get the best results,” he said. “I think when people pre-describe what Charli should do, it’s to their detriment. The best compass for where Charli should go next is Charli.” Harris stars with Charli in one of her seven upcoming films: Erupcja, directed by Pete Ohs, which received overwhelmingly positive reviews after premiering at this year’s Toronto International Film Festival. “It’s such a shock that an artist like Charli would take it upon herself to not just go to Poland, but also to strip down, become a very different person, and work in a way that had no frills,” said Harris.
“I think that when the time comes, she should do something that just comes to her and just enters her ear. Like, whatever feels best at that point,” said rapper Jack Harlow. The “Whats Poppin” artist revealed that he and Charli have connected on the film reviewing app Letterboxd. His handle? MissionaryJack. (We’ll let you guess why.) Another Jack echoed his words about Charli’s future: “I feel like I can’t decide that. For me, that’s up to her,” said Adults star Jack Innanen. (Is his FX sitcom returning, by the way? Innanen is not at liberty to say, though he did express some optimism: “Fingers crossed.”)
Behold the mini generation – blending nostalgia, tech fluency, and emotional authenticity online.
There’s a new generation quietly claiming cultural power — the rise of the Zillennials – born roughly between 1993 and 2000. Too young to fully remember a world without the internet, yet too old to have grown up entirely online, Zillennials sit in the messy middle between Millennials and Gen Z — and they’re using the in-between status to shape modern culture in unexpected ways.
For years, the internet has loved a generational war. Millennials were mocked for avocado toast and participation trophies; Gen Z clapped back with middle parts and low-rise jeans. But Zillennials? They don’t have time for that. This micro-generation is redefining what it means to come of age in chaos — straddling analog childhoods and digital adulthoods, cable TV and TikTok, idealism and exhaustion.
They remember LimeWire and Vine. They watched The Office on DVD and Euphoria on Max. They used Facebook in high school but deleted it in college. In short: Zillennials speak both dialects of modern culture — they can read a meme in Gen Z irony but also appreciate a well-crafted Instagram caption.
Marketers are starting to pay attention. Zillennials are now entering their late 20s and early 30s — earning money, starting families, and setting cultural tastes. They crave authenticity like Gen Z, but they also value stability like older Millennials. They buy fewer “status brands” and more products promising balance, calm, and connection. According to a 2025 Mintel lifestyle study, Zillennials are the most brand-loyal when they feel emotionally seen — but they’ll instantly ghost a brand who panders.
Their blended worldview is reshaping fashion, work, and wellness. Think quiet luxury with a thrifting twist. Think flexible careers with boundaries. Think mindfulness without the crystals. The Zillennial vibe is less about aspiration and more about alignment.
Culturally, they’re nostalgic minimalists. They stream early 2000s R&B while journaling about burnout. They post “photo dumps” that look careless but are carefully curated. They’re suspicious of hustle culture but still ambitious. They’ve lived through economic crashes, pandemics, and social media’s entire evolution — and somehow, they’re still optimistic enough to care.
As one viral TikTok put it: “We’re the generation that remembers when the internet was fun.”
The rise of the Zillennial isn’t just another demographic trend — it’s a reminder the next cultural wave will come not from extremes, but from the middle. And maybe, that’s the most modern thing of all.
Brigitte Bardot, icon of French cinema, recently underwent major surgery at the private Saint-Jean Hospital in Toulon, not far from her home in La Madrague, Saint-Tropez. According to local newspaper Var Matin, the actress was admitted to the hospital three weeks ago and underwent “surgery there as part of a serious illness”
Though the details were not confirmed officially, the 91-year-old actress is reportedly in a “worrying state,” though there is some optimism for her recovery. She may be discharged from the hospital should her post-surgery continue smoothly.
This is not the first time that Bardot has had to deal with major health problems. In January 2023, she was hospitalized due to respiratory failure that later resolved. Little news has been heard about her since then.
In 1973, Bardot retired from the industry after decades as one of the world’s most desired actresses. She was also a regular presence in the nightlife of her beloved French Riviera.
Hulton Archive/Getty Images.
After her debut as a model, Bardot made 45 films and recorded 70 songs. She ended her public career to make way for a second life dedicated to environmentalism and the protection of animals, which she carries out through the global charity Fondation Brigitte Bardot.
A symbol of the era’s changing standards of beauty, she also became a stand-in for women’s emancipation. Her peak popularity in the 1960s and 1970s coincided with the feminist awakening that would take streets and screens around the world.
Only a few weeks ago, Bardot released her latest book, Mon BBcédaire, a memoir that recounts her life from A to Z—lining up anecdotes, thoughts, feelings, and struggles.
When you think about how you educate your workforce, what comes to mind? Most employers send out passive content while overlooking other interaction modes for learning that feel too time-consuming or unfamiliar. But overlooking these comes at a price: a lack of real connection with learners. In 2025, we’ll spend more than five hours a day on our phones—nearly an hour more than last year—and most of that is passive consumption rather than active connection. Unfortunately, education and training tend to follow this same pattern.
Transformation doesn’t come from consuming more content. As I shared in my TEDx talk, “How Microlearning and Connections Transform Us: The Power of Being Present,” transformation comes from small, intentional moments of connection—with others and with ourselves. These small moments are at the heart of microlearning. When paired with authentic connection, they become one of the most underestimated forces for change in our personal and professional lives.
How microlearning works
At its foundation, microlearning delivers bite-sized content designed to accommodate shrinking attention spans and cognitive limits. The content targets a well-defined outcome or understanding instead of overwhelming learners with multiple concepts over a short period. We frequently consume short content everywhere we look, from AI-generated social media and articles to video shorts that vie for our attention.
An Inc.com Featured Presentation
Research often focuses on how to use microlearning designs to combat shrinking attention spans and limited cognitive processing. But what if microlearning is about connection rather than content? Connecting with multiple learners creates emotional resonance that strengthens memory, and taking the time to connect with oneself releases neurotransmitters that make us feel better. The shift to connection matters: 45 percent of young workers report loneliness and social isolation at work, and older generations report more severe mental health consequences.
Microlearning should go beyond passive content to connection. By focusing on connection, microlearning educates while building meaningful relationships among employees. And that’s where real learning sticks.
How to build those connections through microlearning
Here are five ways to repurpose microlearning to build connections:
1. Be present.
The act of being present is simple but powerful. Often, our minds are miles away from the moment. Be aware of where your mind is in each moment with your employees—and encourage them to be aware of where their minds are as well—so that you can be present for each other.
2. Ask for input.
Ask employees what they want to learn. We tend to disseminate information without bringing learners’ input into the conversation. The first step of learning is holding someone’s attention, so it’s critical to know what interests them.
3. Allow for reflection.
If you’re trying to change a behavior or connect with another employee, you must first understand if they’re ready to change. Allow time for learners to consider their own needs and feelings and how those relate to their personal and professional goals.
4. Embed meaningful discussions.
Many organizations have employees who are spread across multiple locations. Build in time for virtual discussions on work-related and non-work-related topics. Embedding these conversations into microlearning cultivates a community of learning by providing opportunities for buy-in and feedback that can happen anytime, anywhere.
5. Recognize wins and encourage your team.
Make recognition a central part of your culture. Give shout-outs in meetings, write notes of gratitude, or surprise team members with gift cards or company swag. Recognition doesn’t have to be big to be meaningful—what matters is consistency. Everyone wants to feel seen, valued, and appreciated. Use everyday moments with each other as opportunities to acknowledge effort, celebrate wins, and strengthen connections across the team.
As technology accelerates and distractions multiply, the organizations that thrive will be those designing learning that educates minds and connects hearts. The real future of workforce education is greater than smarter employees—it’s authentically connected humans.
Michael Eugene Archer, the singer and musician better known as D’Angelo, had no use for “neo-soul,” the label critics used to describe the type of music he helped personify in the 1990s and 2000s. “I never claimed I do neo-soul,” he said in 2014. “I make Black music.”
D’Angelo, who died of pancreatic cancer on Tuesday at the age of 51, certainly did. His music helped define what it meant to be Black at a time when that meaning was in flux, an age where some African American intellectuals feared that their community’s most popular cultural export, rap, was overly coarse and primitive. Over three incomparable albums—Brown Sugar (1995), Voodoo (2000), and Black Messiah (2014)—D’Angelo made art that was unquestionably Black in its embrace of gospel’s history, as well as its experimentation and radicalism.
From the Bill Clinton impeachment scandal to Woodstock ’99, the late 1990s left many Americans worried that culture was going down the drain—but the neo-soul moment now stands out as a vibrant and meaningful counterexample. Made by bohemians with a social conscience and remarkable skill, their music wasn’t just enjoyable, it was ambitious. D’Angelo worked with, inspired, and paved the way for a mind-boggling list of musicians, including Questlove and the Roots, DJ Premier, Raphael Saadiq, Erykah Badu, Maxwell, Lauryn Hill, and Angie Stone. (Stone, D’Angelo’s former partner and the mother of his son, died earlier this year in a tragic car crash.) In hindsight, it’s pleasantly surprising that they all enjoyed so much critical and commercial success during their creative peaks.
If soul music is made for falling in love, D’Angelo made music for people who were trying to live together, however uneasily. Voodoo was one of the only things that could soothe a restive Black family gathering in the early 2000s, getting the hateration and holleration to stop for at least 79 minutes as older generations gave millennials a lesson about good music. Despite the “explicit” sticker prominently displayed on the CD jewel case—and profane guest appearances from Redman and Method Man—even respectable members of the Greatest Generation could find something to love in that album, thanks to D’Angelo’s knowledgeable interpretations of the blues.
For someone whose best-known contribution to the cultural conversation is a video in which he appears to be (but actually isn’t) entirely naked, D’Angelo’s music was also surprisingly churchy. He was raised in a devoutly Pentecostal family in Richmond, Virginia, and during his teen years, he played the organ at the church where his father preached. His music is full of the vamping and intensifying one expects to hear during a particularly pleasurable hour at a Black church, and the call-and-response motif common in the spirituals that grew out of work songs. His transcendent hit “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”—the song illustrated by that classic music video—feels more like a hymn than a pop song, even if it is clearly sung in praise of the body.
We spend so much time online that how we connect to the internet has become almost as important as the devices we use. Most people never give it a second thought. They connect their computer to Wi-Fi, type in a password and get on with their day. But if you have ever wondered whether plugging in an Ethernet cable is safer than sticking to wireless, you are asking the right question. The way you connect can have real consequences for your privacy and security. Recently, Kathleen reached out to me with the same doubt.
“Is it more secure to use the Ethernet connection at home for my computer, or is it safer to use the Wi-Fi from my cable provider?”
It’s a great question, Kathleen, because both options seem similar on the surface but work very differently under the hood. Those differences can mean the difference between a private, secure connection and one that’s more vulnerable to attackers.
Sign up for my FREE CyberGuy Report Get my best tech tips, urgent security alerts, and exclusive deals delivered straight to your inbox. Plus, you’ll get instant access to my Ultimate Scam Survival Guide – free when you join my CYBERGUY.COM/NEWSLETTER
Ethernet offers direct, wired security without wireless risks.(Kurt “CyberGuy” Knutsson)
How Ethernet and Wi-Fi differ when it comes to security
Ethernet and Wi-Fi both get you online, but they do it in completely different ways. Ethernetuses a physical cable that connects your computer directly to the router. Since it is a wired connection, data travels straight through that cable, making it much harder for anyone to intercept it. There is no wireless signal to hijack, no airwaves to eavesdrop on.
Wi-Fi, on the other hand, is built on convenience. It sends your data through the air to and from your router, which is what makes it so easy to connect from anywhere in your home. But that convenience comes with more risk. Anyone within range of your signal could potentially try to break into the network. If your Wi-Fi is protected by a weak password or uses outdated encryption, a skilled attacker might gain access without ever stepping inside your house.
At home, that risk is smaller than in a coffee shop or hotel, but it is not zero. Even a poorly secured smart device on your network can give attackers a way in. Ethernet removes many of those risks simply because it is harder to access a connection that requires physical access to a cable. Check out our steps for setting up a home network like a pro here.
It is easy to think Ethernet is automatically safer, but that is not the whole story. Your real security depends on how your entire network is set up. For example, a Wi-Fi network with a strong password, up-to-date router firmware, and WPA3 encryption is going to be far more secure than a poorly configured Ethernet setup connected to an outdated router.
There is also the question of who else uses your network. If it is just you and a handful of devices, your risk is low. But if you live in a shared space or run smart home gadgets, that changes the equation. Each device connected to Wi-Fi is a potential entry point. Ethernet reduces the number of devices that can connect, which limits the attack surface.
Ultimately, the connection type is one piece of the puzzle. The bigger factors are how your router is configured, how often you update your software, and how careful you are with what devices you connect.
Wi-Fi brings convenience but also potential exposure to hackers. (Kurt “CyberGuy” Knutsson)
6 ways to make your internet safer
Whether you stick with Wi-Fi or switch to Ethernet, there are several practical steps you can take to protect your devices and data. Each step adds an extra layer of security to your network.
Choose a long and unique password for your Wi-Fi. Avoid obvious choices like your name, address, or simple sequences. A strong password makes it far harder for attackers to guess or crack your network. A password manager helps you create and store strong, unique passwords for every account, reducing the chances of a hacker gaining access through weak or repeated credentials.
Next, see if your email has been exposed in past breaches. Our #1 password manager (see Cyberguy.com/Passwords) pick includes a built-in breach scanner that checks whether your email address or passwords have appeared in known leaks. If you discover a match, immediately change any reused passwords and secure those accounts with new, unique credentials.
Check out the best expert-reviewed password managers of 2025 at Cyberguy.com/Passwords
2) Enable the latest encryption on your router
Most modern routers support WPA3, which is much more secure than older standards like WPA2. Check your router’s settings to enable the latest encryption and ensure your network traffic is harder to intercept.
3) Keep your router firmware updated
Router manufacturers regularly release updates that patch security vulnerabilities. Log into your router’s admin panel occasionally to check for updates and install them as soon as they are available. This prevents attackers from exploiting known flaws.
Regularly check which devices are connected to your network and disconnect anything you no longer use. Each connected device is a potential entry point for attackers, so keeping the list limited reduces your network’s exposure.
5) Install strong antivirus software
Even on a secure network, malware can sneak in through downloads, phishing attacks, or compromised websites. A strong antivirus program will detect and block malicious activity, protecting your computer before damage occurs.
The best way to safeguard yourself from malicious links that install malware, potentially accessing your private information, is to have strong antivirus software installed on all your devices. This protection can also alert you to phishing emails and ransomware scams, keeping your personal information and digital assets safe.
Get my picks for the best 2025 antivirus protection winners for your Windows, Mac, Android & iOS devices at Cyberguy.com/LockUpYourTech
Ethernet cables connect to a router as part of a home network setup.(Kurt “CyberGuy” Knutsson)
6) Use a VPN for sensitive tasks
A virtual private network encrypts your internet traffic, making it unreadable to outsiders. This is especially useful if you ever use Wi-Fi in public or need an extra layer of privacy at home. A reliable VPN is essential for protecting your online privacy and ensuring a secure, high-speed connection.
For the best VPN software, see my expert review of the best VPNs for browsing the web privately on your Windows, Mac, Android & iOS devices at Cyberguy.com/VPN
Kurt’s key takeaway
So, which is safer, Ethernet or Wi-Fi? Ethernet wins in raw security because it eliminates many of the risks that come with wireless connections. But in a well-secured home network, the difference is often smaller than most people think. What matters more is how you manage your devices, passwords, software, and online habits.
Would you trade the flexibility of wireless for the peace of mind of a wired connection? Let us know by writing to us at Cyberguy.com/Contact
Sign up for my FREE CyberGuy Report Get my best tech tips, urgent security alerts, and exclusive deals delivered straight to your inbox. Plus, you’ll get instant access to my Ultimate Scam Survival Guide – free when you join my CYBERGUY.COM/NEWSLETTER
Copyright 2025 CyberGuy.com. All rights reserved.
Kurt “CyberGuy” Knutsson is an award-winning tech journalist who has a deep love of technology, gear and gadgets that make life better with his contributions for Fox News & FOX Business beginning mornings on “FOX & Friends.” Got a tech question? Get Kurt’s free CyberGuy Newsletter, share your voice, a story idea or comment at CyberGuy.com.
