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LONDON FASHION WEEK SS26

Our reportage from London Fashion Week this season

London Fashion Week has never been subtle, but this season felt especially charged. A citywide pulse of risk, imagination, and uncompromising taste. Designers here are not chasing trends; they are shaping the direction of fashion, insisting on texture, story, and tension over swipeable spectacle. From Dreaming Eli’s ritualistic Sicilian shadows to Dilara Findikoglu’s pale, rebellious ghost brides, the runways were full of intimacy, weight, and electric disturbance — moments that linger long after the lights dim. This is fashion as ritual, as rebellion, as the world shifting under our feet.

Dilara Findikoglu “Cage of Innocence”

Pale gowns drifted down the runway like fog over a village at dawn, white and blush fabrics catching the light and spilling into shadow. Lace, leather, and deconstructed corsets collided, soft tulle brushing against sharp straps, delicate silk meeting the weight of history. The models moved as if caught between a ritual and a rebellion, fragile yet charged, embodying both expectation and defiance. In Dilara Findikoglu’s SS26, Cage of Innocence, that tension became the story — the way society tries to control, define, and contain women, and the quiet, electric resistance threaded into every seam.
The collection pushed further: corsets twisted into shapes that felt almost alive, skirts layered like whispers, and ribbons tangled with softness and force. There was a sense of ceremony undone — a bride walking alone through a countryside, steps hesitant but unafraid, caught in light and shadow. The palette of white and pale pinks softened the gothic edges, but never dulled them. The garments still carried bite, a reminder that purity is a stage, a construct, a lens through which power and control are measured. Every fold, every texture, every glint of hardware spoke of resilience and presence.
Cage of Innocence was alive — a collection felt like a meditation on restraint, rebellion, and the fragile, electric spaces in between.

Dreaming Eli “My Name is Amore”

My Name is Amore was not a collection, but a haunting.
Sicily bleeds through every seam — not as postcard romance but as weight, as shadow. Dresses slip like smoke, corsets bite at the waist, veils drift then choke. Stained glass shatters in the background; Renaissance shapes reappear warped, half-remembered, dangerous.
The women who walked were not models. They felt older than that. Matriarchs. Ghosts. Saints stripped of mercy. My Name is Amore doesn’t sell love; it turns it into ritual, into weapon. Desire here isn’t soft. It claws, it blinds, it burns. Dreaming Eli has no interest in nostalgia. She drags the past into the light and leaves it there, trembling, magnificent.

Richard Quinn 

Opulence as defiance.
Richard Quinn drowned us in fabric — layers upon layers, collars stretching into exaggeration, gowns swollen into impossible volume. A Victorian ghost stepped forward, shadowed by hints of the 1980s. Wedding dresses, yes, but not for purity. For theatre. For the sheer audacity of occupying space when the world outside insists on shrinking.
Flowers everywhere. Not delicate arrangements, but tokens of excess. Petals pressed into prints, blossoms exploding off the body, bouquets held like weapons. Beauty here is not escape. It’s confrontation.
Quinn isn’t chasing trends, and that feels almost radical. In an industry shifting toward speed and wearability, he remains anchored in grandeur, in the ceremony of dressing. There’s no compromise in his vision. And yet, it’s impossible not to feel the distance. All this silk, lace, and splendor in a world that feels stripped raw. Maybe not political, but the contrast lingers: high society fantasy staged against a backdrop that has never felt further from it. That tension is what gives the show its gravity. Romance stretched to excess. Beauty intensified. Richard Quinn, unmoved by the noise, keeps building his world — one gown at a time.

Mithridate “Edge of Seventeen”

Mithridate’s SS26 collection feels like the Sloane Ranger hangover — posh Chelsea nights collapsing into country weekends. Sequined minis and satin waistcoats slip against cable knits, riding boots, and boxy jackets, as if last night’s glamour has stumbled into damp fields at dawn. The palette drifts from racing green and chocolate earth to soft lavender and silver sequins, echoing the collision of privilege and disarray. Accessories — swollen weekend bags, tasseled shoes, jewelry heavy with malachite — carry the residue of ceremony, but worn with the slouch of fatigue. It is glamour half-undone: intimate and caught in the fragile space between nightclub and meadow. Mithridate captures the allure of imperfection; beauty not in polish, but in what remains after the night fades. A wardrobe for mornings that still taste of midnight.

Leuder “Convivum”

Beneath low candlelight and scattered wine goblets, Convivium became a riot. Marie Lueder’s SS26 felt less runway show, more midnight banquet turned rebellion. The name itself, Latin for “feast, gathering”, promised communion, but here communion fractured, slipping into something wilder, more intimate. Medieval codes meet modern subversion: layered tunics over cropped knits, flowing velvet robes with jagged hems, and her signature sweaters stretched into unexpected silhouettes. Leather corsets cinch oversized wool, hooded capes brush against satin trousers, and curled‑toe shoes tap across the long dining table strewn with broken glasses. Every piece seemed charged with movement and tension, a collision of ceremony and chaos, softness and armor. In Convivium, garments breathe with the pulse of a gathering that has slipped into fever — a feast undone.

Aaron Esh 

Aaron Esh’s SS26 collection was a quiet rebellion. When Ned Sims, son of photographer David Sims, showed up in a ripped white tank top, Esh left him in it — a gesture that set the tone for the entire show. The crowd, a mix of East London’s underground and fashion insiders, gathered in the dimly lit Oval Space. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, the air heavy with the scent of leather and the hum of bass-heavy beats.

The collection itself was a study in contrasts. Tailoring, a hallmark of Esh’s design ethos, was evident in the sharp lines of satin track jackets and the structured silhouettes of herringbone blazers. Yet, these were softened by the fluidity of chiffon-feathered lapels and the slinkiness of jersey dresses. Leather pants and slouchy boots — a collaboration with Zara — added a touch of rebellion, while hand-cut sequins and meticulously embroidered panels spoke to a couture-level attention to detail. Esh’s approach to gender was subtle but deliberate. His designs didn’t scream femininity or masculinity; instead, they offered an exploration of identity. The collection was neither overtly feminine nor masculine, but rather an exploration of identity through the lens of craftsmanship and texture.
In a season dominated by maximalism, Esh’s SS26 collection stood out for its restraint. It was a quiet riot; a celebration of craftsmanship, a meditation on identity, and a testament to the power of subtlety in a world that often favors the loud and the bold.

London Fashion Week SS26

Credits:

Words: Shannon Enriquez / @shhaaannoon
Editor: Anca Macavei / @ancamacavei
Brands: @dilarafindikoglu, @dreaming_eli, @richardquinn, @mithridate.official, @maria.lueder, @aaron.esh

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