To paraphrase The Sound of Music - possibly the least appropriate filmic reference ever, given the subject matter - how do you solve a problem like Versace? Actually, that's rude. Versace isn't a problem, it's a fucking gem, a treasure, a vaulted palazzo ceiling of fat floating cherubs and cow-eyed gods and goddesses. It's a Caravaggio painting, a Puccini opera. In short, an Italian masterpiece.
Speaking from her east London studio days before her Spring/Summer 2026 show, Talia Lipkin-Connor the designer behind the Talia Byre label is trying to stay calm. We call it swan vibes, she says. The point is that you're gliding on top of the water, but underneath your legs are paddling like mad. If I start to freak out, I'm aware that everyone else will freak out too. It's my job to be calm.
The paniers in question, unlike Marie Antoinette's, buckle and twist around the body, their lines sloping and asymmetric, their hemline left raw and trailing. Yet each undulation, although random, is intentional, each mistake carefully calibrated, if not precisely calculated. Rocha loves the look of the unfinished and undone, but it's actually only achieved as the result of lots of hard work.
The collection's title, Exlibris, which translates from Latin to 'from the books', invokes the enchanting tradition of small, printed plates nestled within cherished volumes, signifying ownership. These minute artworks, rich in symbolism and detail, evoke deep connections to identity.
