NYFW SS25: A Season of Soft Power

Dear friends,

New York Fashion Week is a city-wide heartbeat. It pulses through SoHo lofts, rooftop lounges, and backstage corridors with a rhythm that’s equal parts ambition and artistry. This season, Spring/Summer 2025, was no exception. From legacy houses to rising stars, the collections were bold, expressive, and deeply personal.

I flew in from Farnborough—my preferred departure point for quiet luxury. No crowds, no chaos. Just velvet lounges, curated art, and a runway that feels like a runway. My driver met me at Teterboro, and within the hour, I was in SoHo. The city was quiet, almost reverent, the way it only feels in those early hours when sunlight hasn’t yet settled on the streets. There’s a particular thrill in arriving this way: all you feel is the soft murmur of the city awakening and the first aroma of roasted beans drifting through SoHo cafes.

I glanced over my schedule, checking names, venues, and times, but mostly letting myself anticipate the energy that only New York Fashion Week can summon. Seventeen shows, four previews, three private dinners, and one unforgettable rooftop moment. But more than that, I came to feel the pulse of the season.

🎨 The Mood of the Season: Soft Power, Bold Intent

If last season was about reclaiming extravagance, Spring/Summer 2025 whispered something different — restraint as rebellion.

Designers leaned into dynamic simplicity, romantic rebellion, and playful nostalgia. It wasn’t about excess—it was about precision.

• Coach hit the streets with undone charm: oversized satin trenches, “I ♥ NY” tees, and scuffed sneakers adorned with cassette tapes and Hot Wheels. It was New York through a vintage lens—gritty, nostalgic, and strangely tender.

• Tommy Hilfiger staged his nautical-inspired collection aboard a retired Staten Island Ferry. Red, white, and blue met fisherman jackets and prep silhouettes — maritime meets metropolis. I adored the confidence of it: the waves lapping softly against a brand built on heritage.

• Carolina Herrera delivered graphic glamour — nipped-waist gowns, polka dots, and corsages that felt like declarations. Wes Gordon’s palette — bold hues and monochrome — was a masterclass in feminine power.

• Tory Burch reimagined American sportswear with jersey-esque sweaters, chiffon skirts, and ballet slipper-inspired shoes. Her Reva flats returned in mule form, and nearly every look felt like a love letter to grace.

• Collina Strada gave us floral chaos and joyful rebellion. Her “Touch Grass” collection was a dizzying mix of jewel-toned ruffles, side sash ties, and acrobatic poses. It was fashion as performance art — and it worked.

• Eckhaus Latta? Earth tones, hand-dyed silks, and a sense of grounded elegance. It felt like a walk-through memory. A ten-minute supper club show. Models like Moses Sumney and Jemima Kirke wearing cut-out cargo pants, knitted tops, and sludge-toned dresses. It was earthy, intimate, unforgettable — the kind of collection that reminds you why you fell in love with New York fashion in the first place.

Everywhere I went, I felt this undercurrent of purpose. Less spectacle, more story. Fashion that speaks in half-tones, not headlines.

New York can be loud — it always has been — but this season, the city seemed to lower its volume so the details could breathe. In that quietness, meaning appeared: intention stitched into seams, ethics reimagined as aesthetics.

🗓️ Milly’s Calendar: Where I Went, Who I Saw

At Alaïa’s Guggenheim show, I sat beside a Parsons student invited through the house’s democratic couture initiative. We talked about Halston, Charles James, and the future of fashion. The rotunda echoed with possibility; soft light spiralling upward, clothes floating like sculptures in motion. It wasn’t a show; it was an atmosphere.

From there, I headed uptown to Ese Azenabor’s rooftop presentation. Cherry blossoms framed hand-beaded gowns that seemed to shimmer in conversation with the wind. Sequins, pearls, and crystals caught the late-afternoon sun like a constellation. Tyra Banks and Olivia Palermo were radiant—but the real star was the craftsmanship. You could feel the hours, the heartbeat behind every stitch.

👗 What I Wore

At Marie Claire’s cocktail party, I wore a black velvet column dress with pearl detailing — minimal, architectural, deliberate. The evening marked their 30th anniversary and Bloomingdale’s Fall Campaign. I met editors, stylists, and two future clients who’ll later become stories in themselves.

🕊️ Quiet Glamour, Lasting Impressions

Between shows, some moments never made it to the schedule but defined the week:

• Brunch at The Mercer, then off to Peter Do’s debut. The energy was reverent, the crowd electric.
• A quiet walk through The Met, followed by a rooftop dinner hosted by Vogue. The skyline? Pure poetry.
• A pause at Ralph’s Coffee on Madison for a matcha.
• A walk through Central Park to clear the head.
• A spontaneous conversation outside The Mark about sustainable fabrics and the quiet return of handmade.
There’s something about New York in September that makes time elastic — everything happens fast, yet meaning stretches. Every meeting, every glance, every toast carries weight.

💌 Concierge Moments

Fashion Week isn’t only about the runway. It’s also about connection — those quiet intersections between style and substance.

Over matcha at The Plaza, I met a creative director reimagining travel uniforms for a luxury airline. During a late-night walk through Central Park, I bumped into an old friend who now curates art residencies in Morocco. At the back row of a small presentation, I found myself next to a textile artist from Kyoto who hand-dyes with persimmon tannins. We exchanged numbers, and by morning, a collaboration idea was already in motion.

These are the moments I live for—spontaneous, fluid, authentic.

This week, my concierge world intertwined beautifully with fashion.

One new client needed a last-minute villa in Capri; another wanted a private chef for a birthday dinner in Marrakech. Both were arranged within hours. I secured a last-minute Hamptons estate for a client’s engagement party and arranged a private fitting at Khaite. My team thrives on that rhythm, translating desire into detail, seamlessly, discreetly, and always with intention.

Fashion is fleeting, but service, true service, endures. It’s the quiet promise that while trends evolve, care remains timeless.

🌆 Reflections Between the Runways

There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes after New York Fashion Week — not the fatigue of movement, but of emotion. Inspiration can be overwhelming when it arrives in waves.

On my last night, I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of my suite overlooking Fifth Avenue. The city below glimmered — cabs streaking like molten gold, sirens melting into laughter. I thought about everything I’d seen: artistry, ambition, and an evolving sense of responsibility.

Sustainability isn’t a slogan anymore—it’s a baseline expectation. Designers are finding new poetry in accountability. Vintage is no longer nostalgic; it’s intelligent. Innovation now carries a conscience.

Somewhere between Alaïa’s sculptural serenity and Azenabor’s ethereal precision, I realized that soft power isn’t just a design theme. It’s a mindset.

It’s knowing that grace doesn’t need to be loud.

That influence, when used with care, becomes legacy.

That the truest luxury is the freedom to choose stillness in a world obsessed with speed.

✈️ Departure Notes

When it was time to leave, the city had already begun to exhale.

Garment racks disappeared into black vans, editors rushed to JFK, and models traded stilettos for sneakers.

I, as always, took a quieter route back to Teterboro, where my jet waited beneath a pale morning sky. Over green juice, I reviewed a stack of show notes. I slipped off my heels, exhaled, and watched the skyline recede as we climbed. 

Somewhere over the Atlantic, I began sketching next season’s travel plan — Paris, perhaps Milan. But first, a pause. Because the art of living well isn’t in the rush between places — it’s in the grace you carry wherever you go.

Fashion Week, at its best, isn’t about being seen. It’s about seeing clearly.

And this season, what I saw was a generation learning to speak softly — and still be heard

Until next time,

Milly