Keeping the focus on Burton’s Givenchy cotillion, the designer, who moved to Givenchy from Alexander McQueen, reportedly went all the way back to Hubert de Givenchy’s very first show held in 1952. Apparently, she happened upon a bit of good luck (or fate, if you’re a believer) in her research process: during a demolition at a Givenchy-owned space in Paris, construction workers found previously unaccounted for patterns from that exact 1952 show. Burton essentially knew she had to return to not only the house’s roots, but its genesis. Hubert’s modern, mid-century and post-war proposal of simply-but-brilliantly cut graphic silhouettes and sensibilities became her jump-off.
That 1952 unveiling started an all new chapter of fashion history. Burton’s 2025 hard launch might well do the same. The whole thing was bar-none excellent, and it tethered the then-and-now in such a way that felt far more contemporary than nostalgic. It had a true knowingness about it; Burton’s assured and understated confidence was brimming. Often, fashion reviewers argue that a collection is successful if it catalyses both a fresh impression and a desire to wear, and project, that vision. Sometimes this position can feel a bit convenient. Here, Burton’s Givenchy certainly has newness and wearability, but an added layer that is pretty rare these days: her work is relatable, and increasingly meaningful, because of its sense of heart and maturity. It’s emotionally intelligent.
Some examples: mid-show, Burton revealed a high-collar – a choker-collar, really – dress with a loosely columnar drape, each pleat breaking away and downward into a semi-structured silhouette, backless at the reveal and pocketed at the hip. The piece was strikingly forward-thinking, while still being reverent and technical; it featured signature Givenchy tailoring, pushed into the future by Burton’s knowhow. It was fuss-free and intentional. Another strong example vaguely echoed this piece: a dress with a sheer, almost swimsuit-like top – super minimal – that, at the waist, transformed into a discus of layered, whirled, pure white tulle. It was beautiful, bold, well-informed and perfectly made.
With her wardrobe variety (there were a lot of staples here, pants to blazers to flats and more), her femininity and interplay of colors, some of this collection felt like Burton is inheriting the “Phoebe Philo” mantle of plain-cool clothes tinged with insouciance and topfull of inherent style. Maybe Burton already did this at McQueen, but McQueen was, by nature, more theatrical. At the same time, though, Burton’s discernment is harder-edged; hers are blunter, bolder clothes for a more challenging world.
Not only, then, does her Givenchy debut bridge the then and now. It’s the then and now – and next.
