Schiaparelli's Haute Couture Show Paid Homage To Elsa Schiaparelli

On 7 July 2025, amid the ornate grandeur of the Petit Palais, Daniel Roseberry unveiled “Back to the Future”, Schiaparelli’s Fall/Winter 2025–26 haute couture collection—a daring exploration of the House’s surrealist legacy and its place in tomorrow’s world. Rooted in Elsa Schiaparelli’s bold innovations of the 1940s but reframed through Roseberry’s discerning eye, the collection embraced a sharply pared-back monochrome palette of black, white, silver, and the occasional flash of red—sensing that stripping away color would also strip away modern era and expectation. 

Roseberry didn’t traffic in nostalgia or fantasy. He delivered silhouettes with backbone, surrealism with bite, and tailoring that spoke louder than any embellishment. Here are a few looks from the show 

The Elsa Revival

Opening the show with restraint, Daniel Roseberry resurrected a silhouette steeped in Schiaparelli history. This look reimagined the maison’s 1936 palm tree dinner jacket in dry black wool, its sharp tailoring softened by silver badla embroidery, rhinestones, and sequins that traced a luminous palm motif across the chest. The styling was deliberate — a pencil skirt, pearl-dusted hat, and hand-heeled slingbacks — echoing Elsa Schiaparelli’s codes without feeling frozen in time. It set the collection’s tone: archival, yes, but sharpened for a woman who moves forward. 

The next look was archival too in reference but far from retrospective in attitude. The starting point — a 1937 velvet jacket — was reengineered with exaggerated lapels and sheer tulle that read more provocative than prim. Leaf embroidery at the cuffs and collar added texture without breaking the monochrome tension, while long velvet gloves and high-waisted satin trousers grounded the look in quiet authority. It wasn't just reviving history but reshaping it — proving that past silhouettes still hold power when cut with intent.

A gossamer black tulle cape, nearly weightless, was embroidered with Schiaparelli’s Apollo de Versailles motif — rendered in icy silver pearls, sequins, and rhinestones that caught the light like frost on skin. The embroidery didn't just decorate; it imposed a kind of celestial anatomy, drawing the eye across the body in sculpted motion. Horsehair fringing gave the hem a controlled brutality, offsetting the softness of the sheer skirt that floated beneath. This was couture dressed for nightfall — cold, commanding, and deliberately untouchable and unimaginable.

The black satin gown, cut on a diagonal bustier line, clung with precision while sheer tulle inserts exposed the hips without excess. It was sensual, but not provocative. At the neckline, a collar of silver stars exploded outward in staggered rays, referencing the house’s historic Apollo de Versailles cape, but here transformed into something colder, sharper—more celestial armour than vintage tribute. Velvet opera gloves elongated the silhouette while the jet-black lipstick anchored the look in something colder, more graphic. As a finale, it reflected design precision with absolute clarity.

Saddlery Meets Surrealism

This channelled power dressing with a distinctly equestrian twist. A high-shine silver ensemble—somewhere between armor and aviation—was cut in laminated leather, its sculpted shoulders flaring out into winged panels that echoed miniature saddles. The silhouette was sharp and directive, belted at the waist to control its volume and paired with similar tailored trousers that stopped mid-calf. A white shirt and black tie offered a nod to corporate formality, but the result was anything but office-ready. Here, saddlery was elevated into couture—reforged as surreal structure with discipline, not just mere decoration.

This look sculpted the torso with a sharp, equestrian sensibility. At first glance, the corset reads as pure structure—but its quilted, padded curves mirror the form of a horse’s saddle, cinching the body at the waist and thrusting outward at the bust with engineered intent. The silhouette exaggerates function, not femininity—more harness than hourglass. By repurposing something designed to sit on a horse and adapting it to frame the female form, Roseberry turned utility into couture with quiet precision.

Couture Gaze

A gleaming satin silhouette rippled down the body like poured mercury, its surface interrupted by bulbous beaded clusters that mimicked eyes—less decorative than sentient. These organic embellishments swelled from the neckline to the hip are like mutations overtaking the gown. Along the chest and waist, elongated appliqués curved outward like suspended droplets — stretched into claw-like arcs that suggested something gripping the fabric mid-motion. The details weren’t just ornamental; they hinted at a presence beneath. Roseberry’s surrealism here wasn’t playful—it was quietly predatory.

This floor-length column gown is covered in hundreds of individually hand-painted irises, each framed with metallic lashes that create a subtle 3D shimmer. Placed symmetrically across the body, the eyes turn the entire garment into a gaze — surreal, watchful, and slightly disorienting. It’s classic Schiaparelli in its trompe l’oeil illusion and unsettling wit. Rather than dressing the wearer for attention, Roseberry lets the dress do the looking. Couture as surveillance — or self-awareness.

Anatomy Of Red

Daniel Roseberry literally flips the body in this look. This scarlet satin gown, worn back-to-front, turns the model’s spine into a stage for surrealism: sculpted breasts and belly are mounted on the back like anatomical armor. It's unsettling, it's brilliant—and it refuses to be beautiful in a traditional sense. Anchoring the spine is a rhinestone heart necklace that literally beats, a mechanical nod to Dalí’s Royal Heart but stripped of whimsy. Instead, it pulses like a warning. This isn’t romantic red—it’s visceral, confrontational, and loaded with anatomical intent. The dress questions who gets to look, what we’re looking at, and whether couture still has the guts to provoke.

Suiting Up

This isn’t officewear—it’s armor with attitude. The jet-black satin bias-cut jacket features bold saddle shoulder pads, playing with volume while trimming the waist, and is sharply paired with flared pants that elongate the silhouette. Its a clear nod to ’40s power-dressing, but it’s the off-script elements—a measuring-tape lavallière, sculpted hand heels, glossy gloves—that shift the suit from boardroom to bold surrealism. Menswear codes are borrowed, then undone—with wit, precision, and that signature Schiap defiance.

Schiaparelli slots classic matador swagger into the heart of haute couture. The cropped chaquetilla-style jacket is cut with military precision, worn over sculpted trousers, a starched white shirt, and a slim black tie that hints at clerical restraint. There’s a flicker of Chanel in the silhouette, but Roseberry rejects softness for structure—drawing instead from the coded austerity of 1940s Europe. 

Apart from the fashion, one thing that stood out on the Schiaparelli runway was the common hairstyle. Models wore slicked-back buns—tight, clean, and sculptural—marking a shift from the messy, undone looks of past seasons. It’s a polished update on the “clean girl” trend, but with a sharper edge that mirrors the collection’s mood.