Explorations

Saks’ bankruptcy: what game is fashion playing?

Reading Time: 4 minutes

The news, coming one year after the acquisition of Neiman Marcus, highlights the broken state of fashion retail


The news of Saks’ bankruptcy forces a simple question: what game is fashion playing?

Roughly a year ago, Saks acquired Neiman Marcus, along with its sister company, Bergdorf Goodman. On the surface, it appeared to be consolidation, strength, and scale. Cool, right?

Now, almost exactly one year later, Saks has filed for bankruptcy.

This isn’t bad luck, nor an unexpected turn of events. It’s the consequence of a business model that no longer works—yet one the industry keeps pretending is still viable. Fashion is carrying on with business as usual, as if nothing were fundamentally wrong. Let’s try to make sense of it.

Saks is not an anomaly. It is a textbook case of the perfect storm hitting traditional luxury retail—a masterclass in what not to do. Its apparent survival has relied more on inertia and prestige than on any real vitality.

Saks’ bankruptcy: the symptom of a broken system


A close examination of the post-acquisition collapse reveals several structural problems.

First: the customer has changed.
Luxury consumption no longer revolves around temples of consumption. Millennials and Gen Z buy differently: they seek meaning, experience, authenticity, storytelling. The dusty, formal department store —rigid, hierarchical, and disconnected — struggles to resonate with generations who expect fluidity, values, and emotional engagement.

Second: the “emptiness retail” model.
Luxury department stores suffer from a profound identity crisis. They are neither exclusive enough to rival monobrand boutiques nor convenient or experiential enough to compete with direct e-commerce. The result is a space full of products but empty of meaning. Constant overproduction and a culture of perpetual discounting replace identity-building, trapping retailers in a vicious cycle where volume compensates for relevance—until it doesn’t.

Third: the brand wars.
Major luxury groups — Chanel, LVMH, Kering — have tightened control over distribution, investing heavily in their own direct-to-consumer channels. Owned stores and proprietary e-commerce platforms steadily erode the relevance and bargaining power of multi-brand megaretailers such as Saks. Brands are now openly competing with their own stockists. They want it all, yet fail to acknowledge a basic truth: the addressable market for luxury is not infinite.

Finally: monstrous debt.
The acquisition of Neiman Marcus was financed with over $4 billion in debt, backed by private equity. This left Saks servicing an unsustainable financial burden precisely as interest rates rose and the market demanded reinvention. Debt didn’t cause the crisis—but it removed any remaining room to adapt.

However, this pattern isn’t unique to Saks. From Farfetch to LuisaViaRoma to SSENSE, whether e-commerce or brick-and-mortar, fashion retailers have recently faced similar outcomes, even without headline-grabbing acquisitions. The conclusion is hard to ignore: the era of mega-retailers reliant on endless discounts and scale alone is over.

And yet, the response remains stubbornly familiar.

Following last Tuesday’s voluntary bankruptcy filing, Saks Global swiftly secured $400 million in new financing (around €345 million). As reported by Reuters, a US bankruptcy judge granted initial approval despite opposition from Amazon, its now-separated commercial partner.

We suggest reading a post we wrote a while back → Fashion industry: a dying patient

Final thoughts


This is business as usual in its most dangerous form: strategic sleepwalking. Consolidating a dying market through acquisitions, rather than radically rethinking the purpose of the physical store and questioning the overproduction model, is not a solution—it’s a fatal error.

Ultimately, Saks acquired two legacy giants — Neiman Marcus and Bergdorf Goodman — at a premium price, loading its balance sheet with crippling debt at the exact moment the sector was pivoting toward streamlined, direct-to-consumer models.

Cool still?

More than anything, Saks’ bankruptcy has become a case study in what not to do when attempting to transform luxury retail for the 21st century. A very expensive lesson.

So, now that the bailout has arrived, the real question remains: is it plausible to emerge from collapse with a massive cash injection alone? Can survival occur without changing the business model itself?

The question seems rhetorical.

And the answer is no.

Saks’ bankruptcy: what game is fashion playing? Read More »

Enlightenment by Lidewij Edelkoort: fashion as a mirror of culture

Reading Time: 5 minutes

Trend forecasting beyond style: exploring society, spirit, and the quest for solace in a fractured world


Enlightenment is the recent free webinar by Lidewij Edelkoort, the renowned trend forecaster — a spiritual gift, as she described it. And, judging by the large global audience it drew, a much-needed one. Many participants thanked her at the end; Edelkoort herself appeared deeply moved.

We often say that fashion is culture — more precisely, that fashion is a lens through which we can analyse society. This webinar was a clear demonstration of that idea in action.

Edelkoort’s approach to trend forecasting goes far beyond clothing. It explores habits, customs, values, and lifestyles in depth. It is no longer about which colour or silhouette will be fashionable, but about why a colour, a shape, or a fabric resonates at a particular moment in history. At its core, her method is sociological — yet also deeply psychological and philosophical.

The presentation opened with a forecast written almost a decade ago, one that still rings disturbingly  true today:

Never before have people felt so pummelled and abandoned. Society is at a loss, with ever-increasing tensions between rich and poor, man and woman, young and old, intellectual and worker, white and black. We feel pain for our planet and anger for future generations. We feel helpless when faced with multiple dictators governing their countries like banana republics. We feel outrage at the sacrificing of Black lives, the shooting of our children, or the killing of innocent people. Our neighbour is our enemy, our teacher is our nemesis, our country is our curse — and how will we avoid civil war?

In a world where people feel hurt, insecure, and abandoned, the search for solace, relief, and inner balance has become urgent. The aim, Edelkoort suggests, is to heal society — and, in doing so, to foster another kind of fashion.

Current societal tensions — loneliness, frustration, political unrest — are prompting a return to spirituality. One statement struck us in particular: “Empathy is a political issue.” It feels like the defining slogan of our time.

Enlightenment by Lidewij Edelkoort: inspiration for solace


It is crucial to note that these themes were first released more than ten years ago and originally forecast for Autumn/Winter 2019–2020. This reveals how long macro-trends take to materialise — like seeds that need years to grow. Today, they feel uncannily precise.

Edelkoort framed sixteen interrelated themes as lenses through which to interpret contemporary society: asceticism, monasticism, shakerism, meditativism, taoism, shintoism, krishnaism, druidism, animism, voodoo, mysticism, occultism, romanticism, kama sutra, universalism, and papism.

Each represents a different way humans seek meaning, connection, and comfort in an unstable world. Each also carries its own visual and tactile language — crafts, shapes, colours, materials — which gradually filters into how we dress and live.

At first glance, these themes may appear distant from fashion. Yet they profoundly influence how people consume, behave, and express themselves.

Enlightenment trend report by Lidewij Edelkoort inspired this contemplative image. A woman sits in quiet introspection, her form softly obscured by layered veils and wrapped in textured, natural fabrics like linen and raw wool. The image evokes themes of solace, inner search, and monastic simplicity in a fractured world.

Below are notes on how they translate into dress and culture:

  • Asceticism: deconsumption; layering; simple clothes; warm, sophisticated colours. Inlays, superpositions of wool and linen, or wool and cotton. Minimal detailing.
  • Monasticism: the search for inner peace and concentration. Spirituality. Minimal clothing, soft wool and linen. Hoods, irregular hems, socks, extra-long sleeves. Dirty yellow.
  • Shakerism: community-building, shared tasks, simplicity. Beautiful skirts, bonnets. Black and white. Lace and tiny details.
  • Meditativism: inward focus; rebalancing the aggression of daily life. Elevated well-being. Dark red, clothes that hug the body.
  • Taoism: understanding life and discerning the future. Yin and yang. Repetition. Simplicity. 
  • Shintoism: Japanese influence. Black-and-white contrast. Ritual garments. Graphic and sober fashion. Contemporary kimonos.
  • Krishnaism: orange, layering and draping. Tunics, fluid pants, embroidery.
  • Druidism: Celtic rituals. Ireland and Scotland. Eco warriors protecting the natural world. Country punk. Alone with nature. Checks, blankets, patchwork, faux fur.
  • Animism: the planet as a holistic entity. Ancestral references. Skins, feathers, felt. 
  • Voodoo: ritual-inspired silhouettes and symbolism. Elaborate design. Bold mixes of colours and patterns. 
  • Mysticism: a path to enlightenment. Rich textures, flowing layers, deep colours. Transcending shapes, allegorical textiles.
  • Occultism: mystery, alchemy. Motifs such as eyes and stars. Garments imbued with hidden meanings.
  • Romanticism: softness, fluidity, flowing fabrics. Lace, ruffles, bows. Feminine silhouettes.
  • Kama Sutra: sensuality; celebration of pleasure and beauty. Barely-there garments. Body beige.
  • Universalism: unity across cultures, genders, and religions. Diversity celebrated. A rainbow of influences, textures, colours, and prints.
    From this section comes the slide: “Empathy is a political issue.”
  • Papism: the spiritual father figure. The human search for meaning, guidance, and community. Papal dresses, cardinal red. Flowing robes, cloaks, capelets, embroidery.


Through this lens, fashion becomes a mirror of deeper societal currents. People are drawn to clothing that offers comfort, authenticity, and emotional resonance. Trend forecasting, therefore, becomes less about a superficial style and more about understanding human needs, fears, and aspirations.

Final thoughts


Against this backdrop of fracture and unease, Enlightenment emerges not as a traditional trend report, but as a response — a search for answers about who we are and where we are heading. In an era marked by the loss of religion, tradition, and communal spaces, people are left without places to gather, celebrate, or find solace. These themes respond directly to that absence.

They represent a collective turning both inward and outward: towards spirituality, ritual, community, and meaning.

Enlightenment by Lidewij Edelkoort shows that fashion is more than a reflection of taste. It is a mirror of society, psyche, and spirit. In a fragmented world — where neighbours feel like enemies and the future feels under threat — these trends signal a profound human search: for solace, for connection, for meaning beyond the material.

The webinar was, in essence, a call for a better fashion — and therefore, a better world. A fashion rich in meaning. Fashion as a form of cultural therapy: a way to dress not only the body, but the soul of an age.

Understanding these currents may be the only way to bring about meaningful change in fashion, culture, and human behaviour.

And perhaps, to begin healing it.

Enlightenment by Lidewij Edelkoort: fashion as a mirror of culture Read More »

David Bowie prophecy: “I’m afraid of Americans” and what he tells us today

Reading Time: 4 minutes

The shape-shifter, the icon, the creative genius who lived everything ahead of his time


I’m afraid of Americans — on the anniversary of David Bowie’s death, his lyrics circle back in our minds not just as a memory, but as a living David Bowie prophecy. Actually, they never left.

Here, the wind blows cold—a chill that has nothing on the gunfire echoing across America. In Minneapolis, an ICE agent killed a woman, Renee Nicole Good. Unarmed. “That’s fine, dude. I’m not mad at you,” she said. Then he shot her three times in the face while she sat in her car. This is not a lyric. It’s a clear picture of a society — the soil where the prophecy grows.

Portrait of Renee Nicole Good, an unarmed woman shot by ICE officers in Minneapolis. David Bowie prophecy resonates: I'm afraid of Americans.
Renee Nicole Good shot by ICE in Minneapolis.


Bowie remains an immense inspiration, a necessary counterpoint. In the documentary Moonage Daydream, he brilliantly defined himself as a “personality collector.” Not just a musician, but a curator of characters; a synthesiser of art, sound, and thought. He was the ultimate autodidact — his mind a voracious, discerning sponge for philosophy, painting, literature, and the jagged edges of culture. This wasn’t mere affectation. It was a formidable creative acumen: a strategic intellect that built worlds and deconstructed personas with the precision of a master artist.

Today, we are pulled not to the androgynous alien of Ziggy or the sleek Thin White Duke, but to a later, colder prophet: the one who gave us “I’m Afraid of Americans.”

I’m afraid of Americans: David Bowie prophecy


Released in 1997 (on the album Earthling), but with roots in a 1995 collaboration with Brian Eno, the song is a snarling, industrial-groove beast. It feels less like a retro relic and more like a transmission from the past that has just now reached full signal strength. In it, Bowie adopts the role of an observer, haunted by a creeping, viral anxiety. The spoken-word bridge is a chilling centrepiece:

“Johnny’s in America…
Ah-ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah-ah
No-one needs anyone, they don’t even just pretend…
Ah-ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah
Johnny’s in America”

It’s a portrait of a society atomising. “Johnny” isn’t a person; he’s a condition. A state of being where connection is obsolete, where even the performance of caring — “they don’t even just pretend” — has been abandoned. Loneliness made systemic. And circling this stark observation is the addictive, terrified mantra of the chorus:

“I’m afraid of Americans
I’m afraid of the world
I’m afraid I can’t help it
I’m afraid I can’t…”

The lyrics as a mirror to today


This isn’t a geopolitical statement about a nationality. As Bowie often clarified, it’s about the fear of a certain exported ideology — a hyper-consumerist, culturally imperialist, “McWorld” anxiety that homogenises and devours, leaving behind Johnny’s existential isolation. It’s the fear of a world becoming a monoculture where the only sacred truth is the self. And the self is terrified of everything else. “No tax at the wheel,” he mutters in an earlier verse — a brilliant, oblique image of unregulated power, of a drive without responsibility, hurtling forward with no one steering and nothing paid back.

Bowie saw it then. The paranoid, pulsating rhythm of his track is the perfect soundtrack to our algorithmically fuelled tribalism, our performative outrage, and our deep, unspoken dread of one another. He diagnosed the spiritual malaise that would blossom into our current climate: the weaponisation of identity, the collapse of shared narratives, fear as a default setting.

The song’s prophecy curdles into our daily reality. It echoes in Trump’s political discourse, stripped of empathy. In the relentless horror of routine gun violence. In the brutal machinery of state power. Watching the modern American horror show, the refrain transforms from artistic expression to blunt testimony: 

I’m afraid of Americans.


That was his genius. The personality collector was also a future collector. He absorbed the faint signals of the coming zeitgeist, filtered them through his unparalleled artistic sensibility, and reflected them back to us as art — sometimes beautiful, sometimes grotesque, always prescient.

On this anniversary, we don’t just miss the man. We miss his antenna. We miss the fearless, intellectual shape-shifter who dared to look into the coming storm and set it to a beat. In “I’m Afraid of Americans,” he handed us a mirror. Decades later, we’re still staring into it. This is the David Bowie prophecy.

He saw Johnny. 
A dying system. 
A system without a soul.

In Minneapolis, Johnny pulled the trigger.

The prophecy is no longer a lyric.
It’s a headline. 
It’s an obituary.

I’m afraid of Americans.

David Bowie prophecy: “I’m afraid of Americans” and what he tells us today Read More »

Brigitte Bardot: icons and the tension between status and morality

Reading Time: 5 minutes

A case study on the paradox of the eternal icons and the perils of judging the past with today’s eyes


Brigitte Bardot passed away on 28 December 2025 at her home in Saint-Tropez, France, at the age of 91. Her death sparked a heated debate on icons and morality. Magazines and blogs have already explored her beauty, style, hair, makeup, and timeless wardrobe. Here, we aim to go beyond aesthetics. So let’s examine what truly defines an icon and the role moral character plays.

How does an icon arise?


The status of an icon emerges from a complex mix of social, cultural, and psychological factors. Several key roots can be identified:

  • Response to a cultural or generational need
    An icon often appears as a symbolic figure who embodies the values, desires, anxieties, or ideals of a particular era or group.
  • Transcendence of the original context
    A person becomes an icon when they transcend their specific field—music, film, or politics—to become a broader, symbolic reference, recognisable even without detailed knowledge of their work.
  • Capacity to generate identification and projection
    Audiences project their aspirations, conflicts, or collective ideals onto the icon.
  • Strong and recognisable image
    Often tied to a distinctive aesthetic, gestures, symbols, or a style that becomes archetypal.
  • Powerful personal narrative
    A biography that includes rise, fall, redemption, or tragedy adds depth and allure.
A black and white photograph shows a young Brigitte Bardot in Cannes in 1956. She is wearing a casual, striped boat-neck t-shirt, with her long blonde hair, holding a cigarette. The image captures her iconic, effortless beauty and the relaxed glamour of the French Riviera in that era.
Brigitte Bardot, Cannes 1956

The paradox of an icon: Brigitte Bardot


Brigitte Bardot’s case is a perfect example of the tension between status and morality. Her life forces us to consider—or attempt to reconcile—at least three distinct dimensions:

  1. The style and sexual liberation icon of the 1950s–60s.
  2. The animal rights advocate from the late 1970s to today.
  3. The far-right political commentator – repeatedly condemned for xenophobic statements and incitement to racial hatred.

So, which aspect “wins”? There is no universal verdict, but we can explore how these dimensions interact in public perception.

Morality and iconic status: a complex dilemma


The relationship between morality and iconicity is one of the most debated issues in contemporary culture. While there is no single answer, we can outline several approaches:

  1. The separatist position: the work survives the author
    This view separates cultural contribution from personal conduct. Directors like Roman Polanski, musicians like Miles Davis, and painters such as Caravaggio are considered iconic despite morally questionable actions. Here, iconicity resides primarily in artistic or cultural legacy.
  2. The contextualist position
    This approach urges us to consider the era, social context, and systemic pressures. Some behaviours, unacceptable today, were normalised or less visible in the past. The question becomes: did the figure challenge or embody the worst aspects of their time?
  3. The ethical position
    Iconic status carries an exemplary dimension. Seriously compromised morality—especially linked to violence, abuse, or racism—should diminish or revoke iconicity. Icons serve as role models, and society should not glorify harmful figures.
  4. The paradoxical position
    Moral complexity, shadows, and transgression can enhance an icon’s aura, creating a tragic, ambiguous, and therefore more compelling figure. Examples include Lord Byron or Frank Sinatra with Mafia connections.

The decisive factor: the interpreting community


Ultimately, an icon’s status is neither stable nor absolute. It is constantly negotiated by the public, critics, media, and new generations.

  • Time as a filter  – figures whose artistic work is seen as foundational tend to withstand biographical revelations longer.
  • Nature of crimes or transgressions – crimes against individuals—especially the vulnerable—are more damaging than financial scandals or sexual transgressions between consenting adults in secular societies.
  • Victim and public narrative – if an icon is seen as “tormented” or a “cursed genius,” they may be forgiven more easily; if seen as a powerful abuser, public disapproval is stronger.
  • Legacy versus harm – society constantly weighs an icon’s symbolic value against the real or symbolic damage of their actions. Often, the myth prevails.

Coco Chanel exemplifies this: the designer who transformed women’s fashion also collaborated with the Nazis and was an avowed anti-Semite. Her actions have not tarnished the brand’s commercial or symbolic legacy.

Historical judgment: an inevitable decomposition


In the digital age, under a lens of relentless scrutiny, the tendency is toward decomposition rather than synthesis. Brigitte Bardot will not be remembered as a single, unified figure.

  • In cinema and fashion history books, the icon wins. Her images and sociocultural impact are essential historical records. Political statements become a footnote.
  • In contemporary public debate and media, the polemicist wins. Discussions focus on legal convictions, her reported neglect of her son, and anti-Islam positions. Her icon status amplifies these controversies.
  • In generational memory, perceptions fragment. For those who loved her in the 1960s, she remains a cinematic goddess. Later generations see her first as an animal rights advocate. Younger audiences may know her as a “racist old lady” cited online, discovering her film career incidentally.

There is no formula. Questionable morality does not automatically erase iconic status, but it makes it contested and problematic. The icon falls from the pedestal, becoming a cultural battlefield where art, morality, privacy, legacy, and human complexity clash. 

Contemporary trends, emphasising personal responsibility, push the debate toward stricter moral scrutiny, re-examining previously untouchable icons. The scrutiny Bardot faces today is a function of her enduring status. To be an eternal icon is to be eternally re-evaluated through new eyes. This process is inevitable, but its value lies in thoughtful examination, not simplistic judgment—using the past to interrogate our present values, not merely to condemn it with them. In fact, judging the past solely by today’s standards can be misleading.

Final thoughts: the paradox as legacy


Brigitte Bardot offers no neat resolution. Her legacy is the paradox itself.

The icon wins in the sense that her youthful image and sexual revolution are inseparable cultural assets.
The controversial person wins in the sense that these assets are now marred, contested, and not celebrated uncritically.

Her death sparked debate precisely because it forced confrontation with this irresolvable dichotomy. Media oscillated between celebratory headlines (“Farewell to the Sex Symbol”) and critical analysis (“The Shadows of the Icon”).

The final verdict, perhaps, is not a verdict at all, but a recognition. In the 21st-century tribunal of public memory, myth purity is untenable. Brigitte Bardot stands as the perfect case study of an icon whose own narrative split in two: the youthful symbol of liberation forever shadowed by its later incarnation. Her legacy is the chasm between the freedom she once sold and the constraints she later preached.

Brigitte Bardot: icons and the tension between status and morality Read More »

Disconnecting from the algorithm, reconnecting with people: towards a conscious digital life

Reading Time: 2 minutes

A manifesto against passive scrolling: the active choice to be readers, not data to be profiled


A conscious digital life begins here. On Instagram, we have almost stopped seeing our friends. We see only what the algorithm chooses to show us. The feed has become a crowded square where everyone shouts, but few actually speak their minds. A space dominated by perfect choreographies, flawless lives, miraculous advice.

The algorithm acts like an invisible puppeteer: it rewards those who learn to dance its dance, making visible only the successful puppets, whose strings are pulled by the logic of visibility at all costs.

In an age of wannabes, almost everyone plays along, ready to do anything to be noticed. Often, the result is simply pathetic.

Algorithm: the passive choice


Amid this noise, the easiest choice is to become passive spectators: scrolling, absorbing, consuming. Everything in excess.

Content sounds paradoxical: never has there been so much, yet so shallow and empty. People end up as shells, ready to be filled by the algorithm with whatever can hold their gaze for a few more seconds.

It is a convenient drift, but in the long run, it empties us. It distances us from what truly interests us, nourishes us, and reflects who we are.

Conscious digital life: our active choice


We have chosen to take a step back.

We have stopped chasing the approval of an algorithm. Our values will not conform to a choreographed performance imposed on us. We choose not to dance if the music is not ours.

Instead, we prefer to actively search, as in a library, for the voices and subjects that resonate with us. To value authentic windows: following those who communicate something real, even if out of step with the crowd, even if uncomfortable by the standards of trends.

We prioritise connection over performance. We seek exchanges, not monologues. Reflections, not slogans.

Final thoughts


Let us remember that we can choose: we can submit to the dictatorship of the algorithm or intentionally seek out those we truly wish to hear.

This space is born from that choice. It will not be a place for enforced dancing, but for possible dialogue. An invitation to those who, like us, prefer the depth of a conversation to the sparkling surface of a show.

The first true act of digital freedom is choosing what to watch, and why. From this, a conscious digital life is born.

And if these social platforms no longer meet our needs, we can also choose to migrate to an alternative platform.

Disconnecting from the algorithm, reconnecting with people: towards a conscious digital life Read More »