What happens when designers ditch quiet luxury for loud emotion

Unlike the last season of London Fashion Week, when international tariff wars added to the woes of independent designers who were shutting shop due to lack of expanding consumer bases and financial investments, this season my favourite brat of a city came together under the rejuvenating leadership of newly appointed CEO Laura Weir. It once again proved to the world: London is still pretty much the beating creative heart of the fashion industry. And what’s more? Under the right circumstances, it can also churn out adequate business.

At a time when the world is being consumed by warfare, anti-immigration legislations, and extremist agitations, the designers of the Square Mile took a sharp departure from their Big Apple counterparts by shoving out the minimalism of (in parts frustrating) ‘quiet luxury’ and welcomed back romantic whimsy. Continuing its Dickensian obsessions and Victorian fascinations, designers sent down hour-glass silhouettes, crinolines, and corsets, but in citrus shades of yellow and green that are surely going to dominate the summer and spring wardrobes. On the beauty front, trails of draped fabrics were accompanied with statement lips, bonkers nail art, and a grunge-like take on dirt as a liberative antidote. Here are highlights from some of the shows that touched me the most, and proved to me, that under the right creative stewardship, LFW has a long way to go, and it is just about getting started.

DI PETSA 

Greek designer Dimitra Petsa’s eponymous label has long been famous for its ecofeminist examination of the relationship women’s bodies share with natural forces. In the past, Petsa has taken the world by storm with her viral “wet look” which even appeared in a sari avatar on Indian actress Janhvi Kapoor at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival, as a homage to her mother and actress Sridevi’s iconic drenched, chiffon sari looks.

This season, Petsa’s first independent runway—after showcasing consistently at the British Fashion Council NewGen space—was held at the Vision Hall of King’s Cross, where the designer took viewers on a magical trip to the Grecian shores of her home. The show was opened by Greek model Nassia Matsa, who appeared with broken, mud-stricken, angel wings in a blue and white bikini, printed with seashells, a spear, and the Greek flag.

Always a ghost narrator in her runway shows, Petsa, this season, shed her prior roles of lover, heartbreaker, and healer to take on the role of an archaeologist: excavating at the primal question of what it truly means to be Greek in today’s world. By the end of the show, titled Archaeology of Self, her legion of sylvan part-human, part-goddesses walked down the runway in a sensuous closing act that saw Matsa’s muddied angel being cleansed off the mud that lined her broken wings and limbs: a metaphor for Petsa’s own ongoing meditations on modern, Greek femininity.

Models (their limbs caked with wet, red mud) walked in T-shirts with cheeky slogans like “Ancient Male Figure”, “Imitation Poseidon”, “Angel of Athens” and my favourite “Fragmented Athena”—with deliberate signs of ripping on the T-shirt’s already-stretched fabric. Paired with trailing sarongs, sand-yellow tote bags with fringes and seashell strings as charms, this collection was Petsa reclaiming her Grecian origins on her own terms. And presenting to her global patrons, a highly covetable, deeply sensuous, and starkly commercial resortwear that never dilutes the core design ethos of her brand.

HARRI

As a legion of faithful friends and lovers of the brand gathered at golden hour in the brutalist Barbican’s Sculpture Court, whispers could be heard in the air. How would it appear when a brand, that had in the past years, carved a global niche and name for itself through its couture-like, inflated, latex creations (seen occasionally on red carpets and museums) finally chose to launch its ready-to-wear line? Would these clothes be wearable and comfortable? Would the magic of their shimmering fabric be lost in the translation of their utilitarian cuts?

And, behold! To the bass beats of drums and cymbals, Harri’s Museum Wear unfolded as models walked down the winding runway in a series of bomber jackets, overcoats, inflated vests, and gilets in the designer’s signature monochrome latex. Interspersing the previous seasons’ shades of white and black with a deliciously sensual chocolate-brown hue, these latex pieces were paired with dyed and printed denim jodhpurs—tied together with belts that cheekily spelt the designer’s initials along the natal cleft. Further dimensions to this collection came from sheer, beaded tops, latex tote bags, Labubu-like inflated latex charms, and several micro-bags made from inflated latex, in shades of orange and pink.

Easily the most commercial collection I have seen this season, Harri’s foray into pret-a-porter will definitely go down in the annals of fashion history as one of the most masterful ways of transitioning a brand from couture to ready-to-wear, without once diluting or losing sight of the house codes. The clothes were styled with thick-rimmed, round glasses, pulled-back hair, umbrellas, flipflops, and beaded carry-ons that undeniably constitute every stranger you lock eyes with in museums and galleries, and think about for the rest of your Uber ride back home.

SIMONE ROCHA

Inspired by a 1992 essay by Maureen Freely about a girl who was extremely unhappy to wear her mother’s clothes, Simone Rocha’s runway of “disgruntled debutantes” was a sharp detour from the dark romanticism that pervaded her collection last season. Taking fodder from her own experiences of trying to fit into her mother’s clothes in her growing-up years, Rocha sent down a series of cross-armed, barely-happy-looking models down the runway to a bonkers soundtrack that went from Salem and White Ring tracks to Doris Day classics like Que Sera.

With the designer’s signature crinolines still in place, this season her models walked in sequin-drenched, sparkly bra tops, gauzy hoop skirts, PVC raincoats, panniers, and even bloomers, with some pieces carrying pleasant Easter eggs like the designer’s Chinese name embroidered on the waist in Mandarin. Rocha also exhibited an almost Marc Jacobs-like understanding of toying with colour. In a collection that was predominantly conceived in shades of lime green, pink, and floral pastels, a red pair of trousers was followed by a set of red arm-length gloves, which eventually morphed into a full-length structured blazer on a man with floral details for buttons. It was a breathtaking vision, only further exacerbated by the creative inclusion of pillows and pillow-like bags on the models’ hands, edged with broderie anglaise. 

In Rocha’s hands, the awkward cusp of girlhood and womanhood found a deeply adult expression in clothes that had the ripe promise of newly discovered sexuality while also fiercely clinging onto the nubile innocence of adolescence. Without alienating the foundational codes of her brand, Rocha continued to push her creative vision forward, much like how we often turn to our mothers' pasts in a bid to make some semblance of sense out of our much-anticipated, and sometimes dreaded, future selves.

AK|OK BY ANAMIKA KHANNA

There is something deeply relishing about seeing someone from your home turf emerge victorious on a global stage. This was not Anamika Khanna’s first rodeo. One of the first Indian designers to showcase in Paris Fashion Week way back in 2007, Khanna’s now-defunct international line called Ana-Mika had an exclusive contract with Harrods, along with other global stockists, after a presentation by Khanna in 2005. But this time, as Khanna returned to London to debut her pret-a-porter line AK|OK on the BFC’s behest as part of the official London Fashion Week schedule, something felt different.

The designer, who has always worn her boho-chic attitude with aplomb on her sleeve, was determined to front the best of Indian craftsmanship—a trademark of her couture creations—in a lexicon of accessible silhouettes that would appeal to a global audience. Centring nostalgia at the heart of her collection this season, Khanna staged her runway on the fifth floor of London’s fabled Hamley’s showroom. As editors, actors, cultural commentators, and friends of the brand sat down against stacked boxes of toys, techno beats spilt forth a set lined with Mylar pods, as Khanna’s vision unfurled around us.

The AK|OK woman this season was centred around ideas of memory, belonging, and longing. A thoroughbred London girl, she visits her grandmother’s house in Rajasthan, where a chance encounter with a stacked away trunk leads her to stumble upon an heirloom that she carries back with herself—eventually turning it into a part of her everyday life in London. Creating a spatial simulation that urges viewers to reckon with memories of their own childhood, down walked Khanna’s runway women whose style is best described as Shoreditch edginess meets Jaipuri elevation. Billowing kaftans, tight-knit corsets, sensuous bralettes, sari-like drapes on dresses with fantastical trails, sculptural blazers with boxer shorts cinched at the waist with belts, chains, and cummerbandhs, Khanna proved yet again that very few designers today are championing Indian craftsmanship for a global audience the way she is. Her collection, peppered with ajrakh prints and chikankari embroidery, styled with stacked silver bracelets and Amazon warrior princess-like braids, gave us an image of modern Indian femininity that was as rooted as it was fantastical.

ASHISH

I was not familiar with your game, Ashish. Actually, I was but I was barely aware of the limits to which you could push your creative vision to give us a show that was rooted in the radical potential of joy in transforming our troubled contemporary lives. 

Titled Fresh Hell, Ashish juxtaposed the hellish experience of waking up to flooded inboxes, saturated algorithms, and troubling DMs with his signature sequins—this time paired with envious swathes of bandhani fabrics in shades of baby pink, royal blue, citrus yellow, and white. Celebrating 20 years of his eponymous label, the maestro returned to the runway with his usual bunch of misfits and outsiders who waltzed down the runway swinging their bodies to the beats of a soundtrack that had everything—from Doordarshan’s signature title track to EDM. There were ruffled dresses, fringe cuts, diaphanous lungis, unbuttoned shirts held together by the skimpiest of ties at the collar, bandhani-patterned, and sequin embroidered tops with shimmering boxer briefs as his models bent down with the torturous troubles of our times congregated at the centre of 180 Studios to vogue their way through a carefully choreographed and synchronised dance movement. 

This season, Ashish continued exploring not only his political agenda (a black hoodie spelt “Fresh Hell” and a white shirt screamed “Fashion not Fascism”) but his preoccupation with the serene beauty of his garments in movement. Unlike the monochrome, Brassai-like, mischief makers of other designer visions, Ashish’s band of misfits can always be relied upon to add sparkle, joy, and just a tinge of colour-filled melancholia to our lives—and for now, that is enough!

All images: The brands

This article first appeared in the October 2025 print edition of Harper's Bazaar India
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