Group chat Couture: On Fashion’s Mixed Signals and the Brands Still Speaking Clearly

In a moment when everyone in fashion is talking, the real challenge is figuring out who’s actually saying something.

Art by Chassidy Stephenson

Fashion has always been a kind of conversation—between identity, memory, and possibility. For me, it’s never just about clothes. It’s about the tension between holding onto what was and reaching for what’s next. But lately, that conversation feels messy. Some brands are shouting, some are mumbling, and too many are just recycling the same lines.

Take AMI Paris. It started strong: Parisian ease, sharp tailoring, that effortless kind of cool you don’t have to think too hard about. But somewhere along the way, it slid into something more generic—less timeless French elegance, more tech-bro at brunch. The clothes are polished, sure, but clean isn’t the same as compelling. It’s starting to feel like a brand stuck in a box it built for itself. That kind of predictability is everywhere right now, especially in the rise of quiet luxury—the phrase that launched a thousand beige wardrobes. The idea of refined, logo-free wealth isn’t new, but it’s suddenly being treated like a revelation. Swapping out a bold Hermès for a Margaux bag might feel subtle and exclusive, but let’s be honest: exclusivity doesn’t always equal substance. It’s like everyone’s dressing for the soft launch of a personality—tasteful, quiet, and kind of forgettable.

Even Prada feels like it’s in the middle of an identity crisis. Once the uniform of the thinking woman—odd, intellectual, slightly off-centre—it’s now leaning hard into logo-mania and broad appeal. The weirdness that made it so compelling has started to feel more curated than instinctive, more algorithm than intuition.

Chanel’s caught in a similar loop. The pearls, the tweed, the camellias—they’re all still there, but the story feels flat. Recent collections look like the house is trying to reanimate something it’s already lost. There’s polish, but no pulse. Nostalgia’s doing a lot of the heavy lifting, and it’s starting to show.

In the middle of all this noise, The Row moves at a completely different rhythm. It doesn’t chase the moment—it defines it. The clothes are quiet, but they linger. Every detail feels deliberate. Every silhouette feels like it has a reason to exist. Its minimalism is done with clarity, not emptiness. The Row is whispering—and everyone’s still listening.

Meanwhile, the industry’s nostalgia obsession shows no signs of slowing down. Take the Balenciaga City Bag (that I bought lol). It had its moment—Tumblr girls, off-duty cool—but bringing it back now feels like a reboot nobody asked for. Not every trend needs a second life, especially when it’s reissued without any real context or evolution.

That’s why I keep returning to the brands that still feel intentional. Loewe knows how to be strange without being performative. Its experimentation is grounded in real craft. And Dries Van Noten? Still playing with texture and print in ways that feel emotional and considered. These are designers building legacy—not just chasing virality.

Because fashion should do more than look good. It should say something. Because when fashion loses its voice, all that’s left is fabric. And fabric alone can’t tell a story.

Chloé Alves