Fashion can be surreal, but Robert Wun has a way of turning the bizarre into something strangely beautiful. His latest couture show at the Théâtre du Châtelet felt like walking through a dream that teetered between elegance and chaos, and you couldn’t look away.
The show opened with a model dressed in what looked like a crime scene, bloody handprints carefully beaded onto the fabric. It was unsettling, yes, but also kind of mesmerising. Ink blot patterns followed, then a look that resembled a bathrobe and towel, both stained with what might’ve been spilt nail polish or pink hair dye. It was fashion that didn’t care to be clean or pristine, and somehow, that made it feel more real.
One of the most oddly satisfying moments came with a sculptural piece that looked like a sheet mask turned into a hat, a nod to the obsessive beauty routines behind that perfect “glass skin” glow. Wun didn’t just design clothes; he was commenting on the weird rituals we put ourselves through in the name of looking flawless.
Then came the extra limbs. Yes, sleeves that sprouted out like phantom arms, some limp, some reaching into the air to lift veils in a kind of eerie choreography. It was one of those moments where you wondered if you were dreaming, but in the best possible way. By the time the final look came out, complete with a tiny, Gollum-like doll sitting on top of the model’s head, it honestly wouldn’t have been surprising if someone told you there was something psychedelic floating in the air.
Compared to his earlier collections, the colour palette this time was softer, dusty purples, faded burgundies, and soft greys that let the details really speak. But then Wun threw in pops of boldness, like a muted red gown paired with a fiery orange headpiece that made you stop and stare. It was drama without the noise.
There was also this unexpected shape that kept appearing, on hats and skirt hems, something between a football and a French candy. It gave the clothes a sharp, fin-like edge, almost as if the models were gliding through the room, slicing the air around them.
By the end, it didn’t feel like a fashion show so much as a slow, strange unfolding of a story, equal parts haunting and graceful. Robert Wun continues to prove he can take something eerie, even a little grotesque, and make it deeply elegant. You leave, not quite sure what you just witnessed, but completely sure you want to see it again.