DECEMBER EDITORIAL
I recently read a very interesting article about the current crisis in the fashion industry. I’d like to share its core message with you and offer my own perspective. Once, there was a clear distinction in fashion between what represented luxury—reserved for the few—and products accessible to everyone. The language was clear, identity-driven, and non-commercial. Not anymore. Today, this structure has collapsed, and fashion itself has transformed into one giant melting pot played out on a global stage.
For a long time, fashion functioned as a cultural code—a way to mark belonging and tell the story of who we were, beyond just selling products. Clothes were wearable stories, roots, and projections of desire. But luxury had its own discretion: it didn’t flaunt; it suggested. Think of the absolute and timeless elegance embodied by women like Jacqueline Kennedy, Marella Agnelli, or more recently, Franca Sozzani.
Today, that framework has crumbled, and fashion has become a massive showcase that lives off instant visibility. Distinction has given way to exhibition, identity to mere appearance, and creativity to the performative logic of social media. Within the rhythm of digital platforms, fashion no longer speaks as it should; it simply scrolls. To me, it feels like a fast, replicable flow, designed to be consumed instantly.
Why is this happening? Collections are multiplying at an ever-increasing pace—between pre-collections, resort, and cruise, every luxury brand replicates and throws an infinite number of new products onto the market. Within 24 hours of any runway show or presentation, the same pieces are replicated in the windows of fast-fashion chains—using different materials and at different prices, but with an image that isn’t always distinguishable from the originals.
In this way, the value of luxury is hollowed out: it is no longer a mark of distinction but a device for uniformity. What matters is no longer the singular quality of an object crafted with care and savoir-faire by manufacturers, but the immediate recognizability of that one bag everyone is photographing or those sneakers everyone is sharing. At that point, whether they are real or fake matters little. This is where the crisis emerges: the iconic object intended to distinguish the wearer is no longer exclusive; instead, it produces homogenization.
From an ethical standpoint, it is absolutely right that fashion becomes democratic and that everyone can share in it. I firmly believe that to be elegant, one doesn’t need to wear Chanel or Valentino, but rather possess a personality and a precise style that makes every outfit—even the most affordable—suit one’s own physique and aesthetic. However, what I do not agree with, and what debases the sense of luxury in fashion, is the race to produce more and more, moving in an unnatural, distorted way. This effectively marks the loss of the intrinsic value of a market born to be exclusive and special.
At Crida, we feel the need to slow down, to withdraw from the frenzy of instantaneity, and to return to what truly matters in fashion: substance, fine and natural fabrics, research, and the intuition of something special. I am convinced that creativity is born before an algorithm measures it, and that an idea takes shape before it becomes a trend. Bringing luxury back to a healthy and natural dimension, restoring its selective—not just spectacular—function, is the challenge the fashion world must face today. Only then can it reclaim its original voice, which speaks of identity and differences, and narrates social changes and people’s needs. And luxury, freed from the obligation to show off, can truly stand out once again: not through exclusion, but through true elegance.
P.S. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and… Happy Fashion to all.