For SS25, Catherine Holstein responds to the scorn with a disorienting vision.
“She was the purest being in the world. [...] She studied well, not out of an abstract thirst for knowledge, but because to be exempt from paying for one’s studies one had to be a good student, and therefore one had to study well. Just as she studied well, so without effort she washed dishes, helped in the shop, and ran errands for her mother. She moved noiselessly and smoothly, and everything about her — the inconspicuous quickness of her movements, her height, her voice, her gray eyes and fair hair — went perfectly together.”
So begins Lara Antipova’s introduction in Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago. The mid-century language is sticky, spoony: here is a woman turned beautiful by her service to others and wholly oblivious to that beauty. The misogynistic problems with the prose are obvious, but nevertheless instruct us as modern readers: at one point in time, the feminine ideal, particularly for men, was a woman both lovely and credulous. This notion is annoying at best and rage-inducing at worst. And — despite being so antiquated — it has not entirely left our collective imagination.
This is all too present in the constant criticism of Catherine Holstein’s Khaite. Many fashion writers are reticent to keel to the brand’s success and genuinely consider its creative juice. How could a brand so pallid and limp be so prosperous? How could this image of a modern Lara Antipova, clad in ‘80s shoulder pads and girlboss-y kitten heels, say anything worthwhile? The constant adjectives attached to Khaite: cold, characterless, inconspicuous, irritating, try-hard, mean girl, technically-pretty, technically-perfect, lovely and credulous.
I’ve yet to see a brand outside of streetwear inspire such fury in people — especially among fashion writers, who are usually horny for diplomacy (can’t risk losing a Substack sponsorship). But the Khaite hate, at least among industry insiders, is strong. Perhaps this is because, unlike many of the calendar’s other names, Khaite is not risky or innovative enough; perhaps we think the brand attracts the “wrong” type of fashion-lover, which is another essay; perhaps this is because we flay ourselves against commercially successful sportswear. To this day, top-designer listicles frequently omit the work of Donna Karan, Claire McCardell, and even, at very shocking times, Jil Sander. The fact of the matter is that sportswear designers know what women want — and they know that offering a patina of perfection, achieved through a well-made garment, is priceless. Catherine Holstein is one of those designers. During FW24, she told Vogue Runway: “I want women to feel exhilarated when they put on my clothes.”
To exhilarate you have to catch unawares. After criticism of a too-shadowy space last season, the Spring/Summer venue is well-lit and cavernous. Metallic doors rhythmically twist, aligning into a partition wall every few seconds, throwing bronze light across the room. And a surprising soundtrack — Wilco, and “November Rain,” which I don’t believe has ever been played on a Fashion Week runway. It’s the kind of ironic sequencing you’d expect at a college radio station, not a Khaite show. The tack: meet our expansive taste palette, sometimes earnest, sometimes wry, made tenable through pretty logic. If you don’t like it, argue with the metal wall.
The strategy was so successful that Khaite is arguably the most tastefully executed show of the season, cutting right under Ralph Lauren. That’s not even counting the clothes, which are just superb — and exhilarating. Holstein is clearly eager to startle both her loyalists and dissenters with garments that complicate. To note: sheer organza trousers; a black-and-white braided dress, its specks collapsing inward; a white blouse cut by a half-pipe; a thin, pink dress, exaggerated turtleneck half-covering the face; and a sea of crochet appliqués, obviously inspired by zippy Parisian atelier Les Fleurs. Oh! And lots of well-made leather, as always. The most evident criticism, here, is that these clothes are technically unflattering, having little to do with the body. For a designer accused of catering to a too-polished clientele, I think it’s brilliant.
Another criticism, less rigid: the fabric manipulations are a bit rudimentary, leaving even great ideas weighed down by rushed experimentation. An oversized organza poncho, its fabric stipules folding against one another, is more than unfortunate — it’s pointless. The same goes for rainbow seed-beed shoes, awkwardly placed. Obsession with theory and attempt, rather than practice and perfection, can break designers. “I think we got very far into the darkness, into the slickness [last season] —obviously that’s my comfort zone,” Holstein told Vogue Runway. “This is not my comfort zone, but I wanted to venture out into making myself more uncomfortable.”
I just think Holstein made the wrong person uncomfortable. I also think, 24 hours later, that SS25 holds an inexplicable power. It’s the kind of show you revisit again and again, like a Jil Sander collection, in an attempt to answer its darkling questions. To chase that effect, rather than lovely credulity, is noble. 🌀 7.8
Savannah Eden Bradley is a writer, fashion editor, gallerina, Gnostic scholar, reformed It Girl, and future beautiful ghost from the Carolina coast. She is the Editor-in-Chief of the fashion magazine HALOSCOPE. You can stalk her everywhere online @savbrads.