Explorations

Mixed emotions: Meagratia FW26.27 takes the runway

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The fabric of feeling: Takafumi Sekine debuts a spectrum of texture and hue


At Men’s Paris Fashion Week, Meagratia presented its Fall/Winter 2026 collection, Mixed emotions, marking the Japanese label’s first runway show in the French capital. The moment felt symbolic: a brand long rooted in introspection stepping onto one of fashion’s most visible stages.

Meagratia FW26.27 at Men's Paris Fashion Week.


Emotion, after all, resists simplification. It refuses to be confined to a single tone or neatly defined state. We move constantly between tenderness and resistance, doubt and desire, fatigue and hope. 

What makes us human is not clarity, but contradiction.

Miixed emotions: Meagratia FW26.27 at Men's Paris Fashion Week.
Mixed Emotions — Meagratia FW26.27 at Men’s Paris Fashion Week
Miixed emotions: Meagratia FW26.27 at Men's Paris Fashion Week.

Meagratia FW26.27: Mixed emotions


This season, Meagratia translates that emotional fluctuation into cloth. The collection reads like a study of inner tension — of what it means to continue forward even when certainty dissolves. Rather than celebrating perfection, it lingers in the undefined. In those pauses where language fails, something more honest emerges.

Meagratia FW26.27 at Men's Paris Fashion Week.


Material becomes the vehicle for this reflection. Jackets and trousers are crafted in tama-ori silk, a traditional Japanese weaving technique that brings depth and subtle irregularity to the surface. The garments do not reveal themselves instantly. Their richness unfolds slowly, through tactile presence and nuanced shifts in colour.

Miixed emotions: Meagratia FW26.27 at Men's Paris Fashion Week.


Dyeing, here, is less decoration and more meditation. Shades bleed softly into one another, never abrupt, never static. A single piece may hold multiple tonal inflections, echoing the layered complexity of feeling. Texture carries as much narrative weight as hue.

With Mixed emotions, Meagratia does not offer resolution. Instead, it acknowledges the instability of the present moment — and suggests that grace can exist within it. 

There is strength in fragility. There is harmony in tension. And there is beauty in what has not yet settled.

Miixed emotions: Meagratia FW26.27 at Men's Paris Fashion Week.

Final reflections


Founded in 2012 by Takafumi Sekine, Meagratia has consistently navigated between eras, dissolving rigid gender codes and merging historical sensitivity with contemporary awareness. We had the chance to interview Sekine some time ago — you can revisit that conversation here.

Flowers remain central to the brand’s visual language: symbols of impermanence, transformation and cyclical renewal. Through them, Meagratia reflects shifting cultures and environments, embracing change rather than resisting it.

With this Paris debut, Mixed emotions feels particularly attuned to the spirit of now — a time marked by uncertainty, yet charged with creative urgency. It speaks of craftsmanship not as nostalgia, but as quiet resistance. Of artistry as a way to endure complexity.

And perhaps most importantly, it dares to treat fragility as power.

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Climate action and the new materiality: when climate risk becomes a profit crisis

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Why climate risk is no longer a sustainability issue, but a financial one


What makes companies truly sensitive to climate action?

Profit.

Not moral pressure.
Not awareness campaigns.
And not even public outrage.

Profit.

And this is precisely why the new report, The Cost of Inaction, by Apparel Impact Institute (AII), feels different. It does not appeal to conscience. It speaks the only language that boardrooms consistently understand: financial survival.

The new materiality: from responsibility to financial necessity


For years, the fashion industry has discussed climate targets, net-zero pathways, decarbonisation roadmaps. The vocabulary has been refined. The pledges have multiplied—and with them, so has greenwashing.

But awareness without structural action changes very little. (We explored the knowledge gap here).

This report shifts the narrative. Climate risk is translated into numbers. And the numbers are not symbolic.

  • Operating margins could shrink by up to 34% by 2030
  • Losses could reach 67% by 2040
  • Under a net-zero transition scenario, the $1.77 trillion fashion industry could lose up to 70% of its value by 2040

This is no longer about “doing better.”
It is about remaining economically viable.

The three pressures that will reshape fashion


The report identifies three main financial risks:

  1. Rising carbon pricing
  2. Increasing raw material costs
  3. Higher and more volatile energy prices

The message is clear: delaying the energy transition increases exposure. Conventional operators heavily dependent on fossil fuels and coal will face multiplying costs.

Climate volatility is not a future scenario.
It is a cost driver already embedded in supply chains.

The most interesting part: action pays


The report is not apocalyptic. It is pragmatic.

It shows that early investments — particularly in supplier decarbonisation — create resilience and protect margins.

Incremental improvements such as: 

  • Energy efficiency
  • Heat recovery systems
  • Electrification
  • Renewable energy adoption

can deliver meaningful short-term relief while building long-term competitiveness. The report advises CFOs to view these not as costs, but as capital allocations that stabilise the Cost of Goods Sold (COGS) and protect EBIT—a framing that transforms a sustainability expense into a margin-defence strategy.

Companies that de-risk their supply chains and decouple profitability from climate-sensitive inputs could face four to five times less exposure by 2040.

This is not activism.
This is financial strategy.

CFOs at the centre


One of the most revealing aspects of the report is who it addresses: chief financial officers and finance teams.

Climate strategy is no longer confined to sustainability departments. It now belongs in capital allocation, risk modelling, and governance discussions.

Kristina Elinder Liljas of AII describes the report as putting a “price tag” on delayed net-zero transition. And that phrase matters. Because once a risk is priced, it can no longer be ignored.

Even industry leaders — such as H&M Group — acknowledge that awareness without decisive action will not deliver science-based targets—a notable admission from a company emblematic of the fast-fashion business model.

However, when it comes to sustainability and climate change, fast fashion reveals a striking paradox. The overproduction model remains untouched — as if it were neutral, inevitable. Yet choosing not to change is itself a powerful act of choice. The fast-fashion perspective is not just limited; it is inherently flawed. The core issue is that maintaining an unchanged overproduction business model is not a viable option; it is the very barrier preventing real progress.

Climate action: collaboration is not optional


The report emphasises co-financing and collective investment. Supply chains are interconnected ecosystems. One actor alone cannot stabilise the system.

Lewis Perkins, CEO of AII, highlights that maintaining business stability in a climate-disrupted world requires industry-wide cooperation, channelled through initiatives like AII’s own Fashion Climate Fund, which pools brand capital to de-risk and accelerate supplier-level investments.

This is perhaps the uncomfortable truth: resilience is a collective effort.

Beyond fashion


Although focused on apparel, the message extends far beyond fashion.

Any industry that postpones climate mitigation is not protecting its profit. It is accumulating risk.

The cost of inaction is not abstract.
It is measurable.
And it compounds.

A final reflection


For years, we have framed sustainability as an ethical evolution. Perhaps we were speaking the wrong language. Ethics, it seems, has become unfashionable.

If profit is what finally moves companies, then maybe this is the real turning point: climate action is no longer about virtue.

It is about survival.

And when survival becomes the question, hesitation becomes the most expensive choice of all.

But a final irony remains: the very brands whose business depends on relentless overproduction are now positioned as architects of the solution. Can those who built the problem truly deliver the cure — or will profit and habit always win?

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Destruction of unsold textiles: a historic ban… with many loopholes

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A turning point against waste: rules, exemptions, and the challenges for truly circular fashion


The European Union has put an end to one of the most controversial practices in the fashion world: the systematic destruction of unsold textiles. From 19 July 2026, large companies will be prohibited from destroying unsold clothing, accessories, and footwear. This provision will be extended to medium-sized companies from 2030 onwards.

This decision, implemented through the Ecodesign for Sustainable Products Regulation (ESPR), aims to break an unsustainable paradox: in Europe, between 4% and 9% of textile products are destroyed each year before ever being worn, generating 5.6 million tonnes of CO₂ emissions — an impact equivalent to that of the entire country of Sweden.

In this context, the measure takes on central importance. It aligns with the EU’s strategy to combat waste, reduce pollution, and accelerate the transition towards a fully circular economy. The intent is clear: to redirect unsold goods towards alternative virtuous channels, such as discounted resale, donations, material regeneration, or creative reuse.

Exemptions: the loopholes to monitor


The Commission has provided for exceptions to the ban, which are necessary but potentially ambiguous. Destruction of unsold textiles will still be permitted for:

  • Reasons of safety, hygiene, or public health.
  • Irreparable product damage.
  • Technical inadequacy for recycling or reuse.
  • Violation of intellectual property rights.
  • Situations where destruction is deemed the option with the lowest environmental impact.

In parallel, from February 2027, the obligation to declare disposed unsold garments via a standardised communication format will come into force, aimed at ensuring transparency.

However, it is precisely here that the greatest risks lie. Definitions such as “technical inadequacy” or “lowest environmental impact” are elastic and subject to interpretation. Without extremely clear guidelines and a rigorous control system, they could become loopholes to circumvent the spirit of the law. The danger is that the problem could simply be exported, with garments shipped outside the EU to be disposed of where rules are less stringent, thereby fuelling the phenomenon of waste colonialism.

Textile industry: a sector truly “at the forefront”?


The Commissioner for the Environment, Jessika Roswall, described the textile sector as “at the forefront of the transition towards sustainability,” while acknowledging that the data “demonstrates the need to act.”

This statement appears to be in strong tension with reality:

  1. The waste figures cited by the Commission itself depict a backward sector, symbolic of the “take-make-dispose” model.
  2. The very need for legislation highlights the failure of self-regulation. A sector truly at the forefront would not need a ban to stop such a wasteful practice.
  3. The real pioneers (circular brands, reuse models) remain a niche compared to the dominance of fast fashion and mass-market “luxury.”

The declaration is more of a political act—aimed at involving the industry rather than criminalising it—than a factual description.

The real challenge begins now


This ban is a fundamental step, but its effectiveness is not guaranteed. It will depend on three crucial factors:

  1. Stringent guidelines that minimise the ambiguity of the exemptions.
  2. A robust and uniform system of controls and sanctions across Europe.
  3. A definition of “destruction” broad enough to also cover disposal disguised as poor-quality recycling.

Final reflections

In conclusion, the regulation on the destruction of unsold textiles is a fundamental step forward that changes the regulatory paradigm.

The EU has charted a course towards a more circular and responsible textile and fashion industry. But the battle against waste will be won (or lost) in the details of implementation, in the vigilance of the authorities, and in the capacity to close every potential loophole.

Companies are now called upon to genuinely reinvent how they manage the value of products and materials, rather than merely finding new ways to circumvent the disposal problem.

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Milano Cortina Olympics: snow needs cold, not crude

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The uncomfortable truth behind “sustainable” and “neutral” Winter Olympics


There is a lot of excitement in the air for Milano Cortina Olympics. In fact, the Games are set to showcase sport, landscape, and international cooperation. We are told to celebrate fashion, food, culture, and people.

In reality, it risks becoming yet another glossy exercise in greenwashing. And not only that. The Games also reveal a deeper, more disturbing contradiction: selective ethics, selective exclusions, selective silence.

Winter sports need snow, not fossil fuels


Winter sports depend on snow, ice, and stable temperatures. Yet the Milano Cortina Winter Olympics are sponsored by Eni, one of Italy’s largest oil and gas companies—an industry that directly fuels the climate crisis threatening the very existence of winter itself.

This contradiction is not accidental. It is strategic.

As Greenpeace Italia recently stated:

“Winter sports need snow, not polluting companies.”

Milano Cortina Olympics: when sponsorship becomes image laundering


Sponsorships like these are not neutral acts of support. They are tools of reputation laundering, designed to associate fossil fuel corporations with values such as resilience, excellence, and sustainability, while diverting attention from the environmental damage caused by their core business.

Eni’s presence at the Olympics does not reduce emissions.
It does not protect glaciers.
It does not safeguard mountain ecosystems.

What it does is offer a powerful stage to rewrite a narrative.

The climate crisis is not an abstract backdrop


The climate emergency is already reshaping winter sports:

  • artificial snow replacing natural snowfall
  • shortened seasons and shrinking glaciers
  • increasing environmental pressure on fragile alpine territories

Allowing companies that actively contribute to global warming to sponsor the Winter Olympics means ignoring this reality—or worse, normalising it.

As Greenpeace puts it:

“Those who fuel the climate crisis, threatening the survival of ice and snow on which the Winter Games depend, cannot be sponsors of the Games.”

This is not radicalism. It is coherence.

The IOC’s responsibility


The International Olympic Committee often speaks the language of sustainability. But language without action remains branding.

If the Olympic movement genuinely wants to protect the future of winter sports, it must take a clear stance and end sponsorships from oil and gas companies—just as tobacco sponsorships were once banned from sport for ethical reasons.

Some industries are simply incompatible with certain values.
Fossil fuels and the Winter Olympics are one of those cases.

A double standard dressed as neutrality


Russia is out. Israel is in.

The official justification for excluding Russia from the Olympic Games was the violation of international law and the incompatibility of war with Olympic values. Yet the same principles seem to dissolve when it comes to Israel, despite the scale of destruction and civilian deaths in Palestine far exceeding many past conflicts that have led to sanctions.

This selective morality undermines any claim of neutrality. When sport chooses silence in the face of certain atrocities and outrage in others, it stops being a space of peace and becomes a mirror of geopolitical hypocrisy.

The discomfort was impossible to fully contain. During the opening ceremony, J.D. Vance was met with loud boos from the audience—an unplanned rupture in the performance of neutrality. Even as cameras attempted to manage the narrative, the reaction exposed a growing gap between institutional silence and public conscience.

Israel’s parade was embarrassing. 
Just as embarrassing was the attempt to erase Ghali through selective camera framing—an evident effort to censor his words and silence his pro-Palestinian stance.

Is it really still unclear that Israel is committing genocide, as widely documented by human rights observers?

Ghali, Rodari, and the words that should never be censored


Ghali recited Reminder, a poem by Gianni Rodari:

“There are things to do every day:
wash, study, play,
and set the table at midday.

There are things to do at night:
close your eyes, sleep,
have dreams for dreaming,
ears for hearing.

There are things never to do,
neither by day nor by night,
neither by sea nor by shore:
for example, WAR.”

Words simple enough for a child. Apparently too dangerous for a stage.

What kind of future are we celebrating?


The Olympic principles are excellence, respect, and friendship. They aim to unite people through sport, promoting peace, solidarity, and inclusion.

And yet, this is what Ghali later wrote on Instagram:

“Peace? Harmony? Humanity?
I did not feel any of this last night, but I felt it through your messages.
People are what truly matter, and in a time of so much hatred, please do not play their game. Respond as we would want the world to be.
‘There are things that must never be done.’”
Ghali

Beyond the beautiful façade


We can celebrate Italianness at Milano Cortina Olympics. We can take pride in the landscape, culture, fashion, food, and athletes and everything else. But this could also be an opportunity to rethink how major events relate to territory, climate, and responsibility.

Instead, it risks becoming another case study in how sustainability is used as a decorative word—applied after the damage is done. A study in beautiful façades.

Snow is not a metaphor.
Ice is not a logo.
The climate crisis cannot be sponsored away.

And humanity does not come in Series A and Series B.

If they sold you the Winter Olympics as ethical and sustainable, this is greenwashing.

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Couture in the digital age: art beyond the algorithm

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Is couture becoming a prop for the digital spectacle?


What does haute couture in the digital age represent: craftsmanship, complexity, and technical innovation—or pure spectacle? In an era where we judge everything from our phones, how can we possibly appreciate the hundreds of hours of handwork, the weight of a bespoke silk gown, the architecture of a hidden seam?

Platforms like 1Granary have sparked debates by placing designers like Blazy and Anderson at the centre of a modern couture dilemma. Anderson’s silhouettes were elaborate, with floral decorations, built for impact—a showstopper perfectly engineered for the digital gaze. This, in turn, ignited debate over Blazy’s Chanel: was it true couture, or elevated ready-to-wear? Dubbed “boring” by some, his collection was a quiet manifesto for wearability, for the tactile, a dreamy escape. What scrolled past as a simple suit may have taken weeks just to weave the fabric.
This is the ocean between a post and a piece of art: one is designed for reaction, the other for reality.

Let’s be clear: couture is the highest form of fashion, and it is elitist by definition. It exists for the few who can afford it. It’s a matter of wealth, not representation. Yet, its audience is now global, watching through a screen. Even if they can’t afford it, they judge it.

So what does haute couture in the digital age, in the age of content, represent? Why do houses continue? Because Haute Couture is the ultimate engine of the dream. It is high-stakes marketing, an artistic flag planted to validate the entire brand’s luxury status. The shows themselves are rarely profitable, but they generate the priceless cultural capital that sells perfumes, lipsticks, and handbags. 

It’s a brilliant, necessary paradox: they craft the unattainable to move the mass-produced.

This brings us to the core tension: spectacle versus substance. When a gown goes viral, are we admiring art—or just consuming content? 
Has couture become a prop for the digital circus, where the “wow” factor must be instantly legible in a thumbnail?

Perhaps the most radical act in today’s couture is not extravagance, but integrity. It is the insistence on existing beyond the scroll—in three dimensions, in time, in the human hand. The greatest luxury it offers now may not be the price tag, but its physical, tangible truth in a world of filters and facades.

So, does it matter if it keeps the ateliers alive? Absolutely. But let’s look closer, beyond the spectacle. The real dream isn’t just the dress on the runway; it’s the persistence of craft in a disposable age. It’s the hand that sews, the eye that fits, the art that refuses to be flattened.

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