It was experiential retail before experiential retail was a thing, giving BAPE a space-age vibe not unlike a hypebeast Jetsons.

If those stores helped cement NIGO as one of streetwear’s most exciting talents, his latest retail trick for Human Made proves he still has the sauce. The brand’s first proper flagship, occupying three floors in Harajuku and designed by Tokyo design studio I IN, modernizes everything that made the BAPE stores shine (literally and figuratively). 

At four times the size of the prior Human Made stores, the Tokyo location stacks the brand's full range on gleaming shelves — including its first original sneaker, the trail-shoe-ish Duck Kick. It keeps the BAPE-era emphasis on industrial elements, but where those stores felt like spaceships, this one uses glass and stainless steel to create an open-faced warehouse; the normally hidden stockrooms are fully exposed, revealing product piled in storage containers just out of reach.

The transparency extends to the shopping experience. While the old-school route of, you know, talking to staffers is still an option, there’s also a way to do things fully digitally. Customers can scan any product’s QR code with their phone to place an order, pinging staff to pull it from those containers in real time. It's a touch Amazon tech-brain, but interesting given the prevailing trend in other luxury clothing stores is using warm tones and earthy materials like wood and stone to create something that feels completely disconnected from a brand's digital presence. 

Human Made has always lived by the motto that “the future is in the past,” and the Tokyo flagship is no exception. The BAPE lineage is clear, but the store’s blend of the digital and physical feels entirely fresh. 

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Two such brands, Ten C and Comoli, have done just that. Their latest collaboration for FW26 is eight all-black pieces of nerdy artisanal winter-wear. It’s a proper mingling of the minds, bringing together Ten C’s Original Japanese Jersey (OJJ) with Comoli’s signature Japanese cotton flannel, crinkled ripstop nylon, satin, and brushed stretch wool within the latter imprint’s preferred shade: inky black. Together, Ten C and Comoli make pitch-dark fabric and artisanal focal point, where the details add needed character to otherwise monochrome look. In essence, this is how to wear all black without being boring.

It’s always lovely to see when two brands of similar ethics come together, and even better when it’s two particularly purpose-driven partners. Alessandro Pungetti and Paul Harvey, the minds behind Ten C (and previously at C.P. Company and Stone Island), built Ten C around the idea that you actually can make clothing that lasts forever — or at least, clothing that ought to. OJJ is a perfect example of this, a hardy (and proprietary) polyester-nylon fabric that only develops more character through wear.

Comoli is similarly soft-spoken, with founder Keijiro Komori only recently taking the brand to Instagram last year despite it being over 15 years old. Komori’s own press-shy approach to design is equally refined and relaxed, emphasizing fabric-sensitive cuts like the collaborative hooded coat that emphasizes its own tactility even while being defined by its oversized silhouette. 

This collaboration feels like a rejection of conceptualization. Its singular shade offsets the extreme intention behind each design, as if to say: as much work went into this stuff, it’s also just clothes that you should wear — which is what both Ten C and Comoli are all about.

Their shared philosophy is literal, in the sense that many of the pieces are reversible, taking on new lives when inside becomes outside, and vice versa. Because clothes are never just one thing, even when they’re all black.

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With that pedigree, Tekla could add only one ingredient to reach peak perfection and, luckily, it sourced it two years ago. The secret sauce? AURALEE.

The Japanese brand is built on fabric and knitwear expertise that rivals Tekla’s. Their first collaboration in 2024, centered on Japanese bathing and sauna culture, included towels made for onsens and Tekla’s first-ever foray into outerwear: the Robe Coat.

Now back for a second round, releasing on October 28, the pair have shifted focus to Scandi land with a range of products made for cozymaxxing through the cold Danish winter. Tekla’s already-great bedding and blankets are elevated by AURALEE’s artisanal approach to textiles, while wool-cashmere knitwear, checked flannel pajamas, and shearling slippers make a compelling case for wearing pajamas in the real world.

With winter’s claws closing in, the timing couldn’t be better. It’s also a welcome palate cleanser after dreaming about the day we could afford anything from ex-Dior creative director Kim Jones’ Aman Hotels collection. Whereas that collab’s $3,505 pajama set made lounging feel like a members-only activity, Tekla and AURALEE’s feels at least attainable — even if the flannel sleepwear set runs north of $500. 

Still pricey for PJs? Of course. But the plaid, chunky knits, and shearling slippers look like pieces that might already be in your wardrobe, just elevated to a level of beauty and craft that makes the price tag feel justified.

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If a completely free, 300-page Chanel print magazine falls into a bookstore and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Inconceivably, the answer appears to be “no.” 

At least that was my experience waltzing into a local stockist over the weekend to pick up the second volume of Chanel Arts & Culture. The little-known print publication is an oddity within the French luxury house’s vast world: launched in June 2025 as part of the Chanel Culture Fund, it’s entirely overseen not by fashion’s favorite creative director, Matthieu Blazy, but by the brand’s President of Arts, Culture, & Heritage, Yana Peele — who, not for nothing, got profiled earlier this year.

This may explain the muted response. My own request for “the Chanel magazine” at the bookstore earned a confused stare from the salesperson, even though a stack of issues sat less than a foot away. Friends filtering in for their own copy got roughly the same reaction. And three days later, copies are still available. 

To be clear, this is no flimsy catalog. This issue’s cover star is superstar artist Cindy Sherman, who did a 16-page spread of her signature self-portraits (wearing pieces from the Chanel Patrimoine archive, naturally). The issue includes original lyrics by Patti Smith for recipients of Chanel’s Next Prize, plus artist profiles, essays, and conversations with major contemporary artists. Last year’s inaugural issue, which celebrated five years of Chanel’s partnerships with artists and cultural institutions, featured everyone from Tilda Swinton to Hans Ulrich Obrist. 

Yet for all the star power in its pages (plus the flex of giving away a beefy 300-page magazine for free), this magazine exists almost in a vacuum. Made for the kind of sicko print purists like myself who froth over this kind of thing. But Chanel isn’t alone in quietly extending its marketing muscle to printed matter. 

The world of fashion-backed magazines is vast and, in some cases, stretches back more than half a century. Hermès has printed its free, biannual Le Monde d’Hermès magazine since 1973 — in 11 languages, no less — and Acne Studios has published Acne Paper on and off since 2005. (It also has a permanent gallery space in Paris, Acne Paper Palais Royal, and a publishing arm for artist books.) More recently, during Blazy’s tenure at Bottega Veneta, the brand helped fund the 2022 relaunch of the influential gay magazine Butt as its sole advertiser and still releases free “fanzines” to coincide with runway collections. And at Dior, Jonathan Anderson oversees the brand’s quarterly Dior Magazine, a melange of original photography, campaign shots, and archival pulls that launched in 2012.

A well-made but subdued magazine release, like a whisper, may feel wasteful, but something like Art & Culture is just one tool in the arsenal fashion brands are using to establish cultural dominance beyond clothes. In the past year alone, Chanel signed a three-year deal to extend its sponsorship of Hong Kong’s M+ museum; Louis Vuitton signed a three-year deal to fund New York’s Frick Collection; Bulgari announced an official partnership with the Venice Biennale through its next three editions.

It’s all a kind of culturemogging, as we’ve come to call it. Major labels are redefining luxury beyond the seasonal collections they sell, worldbuilding their way toward becoming not just brands but tastemakers across all aspects of culture. Some might call this insidious, but there’s a benefit to having fashion brands put their money where the art is. 

Only a select few can afford a piece of Blazy-era Chanel, but its Arts & Culture publication has value that can’t be measured with money alone. Call it Chanelified print propaganda if you must, but honestly? I’ll take as many issues as I can get. 

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Still yet to turn 30, Ira Tassouli has already built a career out of helping brands like GANNI, A.P.C., and now Louis Vuitton not only present themselves well to the world, but also to connect with the right tastemakers. She's a talent maestro, a bona fide influence-monger, a community conjoiner — and, as a result, a kind of alpha influencer in her own right who can often be spotted in Copenhagen, Paris, and wherever else the fashion industry's moveable feast might be on any given day.

Today, as the manager of global talent relations at the biggest luxury house in the world, Tassouli steps out from behind the scenes to offer us a primer on her own personal style. As our latest "Model's Own" subject, Tassouli told us all about the "grown woman" watch she gave herself, her go-to LV bags, and her perfect airport outfit formula.

What is an item or garment that you regret having gotten rid of?

There is a pair of Dries Van Noten loafers that I sold. I don't know why, I was having a moment, and then I later repurchased them — in a different color though, if that makes any difference. I was like, you know what? I'm going back for another pair. Otherwise, I'm pretty good with getting rid of things and that being the end of it.

What's the most you've ever paid for an article of clothing or an accessory?

I think the most expensive thing that I've gotten for myself is a Cartier Panthère watch that I bought last year to celebrate a milestone. It was an “I'm an independent grown woman with adult money”-move, and I wanted to get myself this watch. And it definitely started an itch for me to continue this tradition of attaching sentimental value to objects, of connecting purchases to life moments. 

Who's the most stylish person you grew up around?

I would definitely say it's my mom. Ever since I was really young, she would see things in magazines and make her own patterns and recreate what she really liked. And so, when I was a kid, I had like a fully custom wardrobe of just things that she would see and be like, “Let me make a version of this for you.” I think so much of my overall taste, not just in clothing, comes from all the things she exposed me to from a young age. She's probably one of the best-dressed people in my life.

What item do you own multiples of?

Amy, who owns Nhỏgirl in Amsterdam, is a close friend, and she recently released the Nhỏgirl Classic line, where she does streamlined basics, and they're incredible. They're made for layering, and when she did a pop-up in Paris, I bought the long sleeves in every single color. I wear them practically every single day. It's been a month or even more, and I have not stopped wearing them. I've literally just been waiting for them to restock so that I can repurchase the white one in particular, which I've worn and washed so much.

What has the algorithm recently convinced you to buy? 

Something I bought recently was a pair of Thistles sunglasses. It's not necessarily the product, specifically, but the style of it. Everybody's got a pair of big aviator sunglasses, or at least I was seeing them everywhere, and eventually I felt like, “Okay, I think I want a pair." The algorithm will create a need for me to buy something, and then I'll look into what kind of version of something I want. 

Tell me about your everyday bag.

I can be a fabulous corporate soldier: I actually do wear an LV bag every single day of my life, an Express bag currently. It's one of the more subtle bags that we've released lately. I have the medium size, and it fits my laptop even though it looks like it wouldn't, which is the perfect size of bag for me. It's, like, big but not gigantic. So you see it and you think, “What can she fit in there?” The answer is: a lot. I usually make it weigh about 10 kilos a day. I love her and wear her crossbody too, because I bike a lot in Paris, and we love functionality.

What's the last thing you bought in person?

I went to the store two days ago to buy a new Rimowa suitcase. And the other purchase that I did make in-store was in the US recently over the summer. If there's one thing I do when I'm in the US, it's go to multiple vintage shops and hunt and dig. I got two Ralph Lauren Made in USA vintage shirts at some secondhand store in Portland.

Are you more of an impulse shopper or deep researcher?

I wouldn't say that I'm a deep researcher, and I wouldn't call my shopping impulse either, but I would say it's like I'm somewhere in between. I'll see a movie and someone's wearing incredible jeans, or see someone outside and be like, oh, that looks great — “What would that look like within my universe and like my kind of wardrobe, myself interpreting that?” If I can think of a million ways to style this and wear something, I'll buy it. I won't put too much thought into it or be like, “Oh, let me look at other options.” 

What do you wear to the airport?

I have a great airport formula: Sweatpants styled in an elevated way. This means: gray sweats with a loafer, a nice sock, and I'll do a flannel layering situation. Like a sweats by way of Ralph Lauren, let's call it. Add a cap and plus a hoodie shoved down a bag, in case. 

What about your wedding guest get-up?

“Wedding guest” is more nuanced. As a person that works in the fashion industry, a lot of weddings with quite extravagant and fun dress codes happen around me. As such, I always try to just come through with something fun and playful that feels true to what the bride or groom would expect. If you tell me to dress up, I will dress up.

As a woman, if the dress code allows, something that I think is underrated is wearing a pant to a wedding, like a very chic pant look. I did that for a friend's wedding: a feathered off-shoulder top and a simple black pant and a pointed heel. If the bride and groom have something more traditional, don't challenge that. That said, I do a lot of black, which I think can be controversial because a lot of people don't like black for weddings. But I would suggest checking with the person first, if they care or not, about the whole good luck / bad luck thing. There's a lot of cultural nuance, too. There's something somewhere about how wearing red means you're sleeping with the groom? Anyways, check with the bride and groom.

What goes on your face in the mornings? 

SPF. Always. Every single day. Of course. Like a broken record. 

And in the evenings?

Evening is where we cleanse and moisturize. If I have to name a specific product, I would say Dr. Althea 345 Relief Cream. It absorbs really quickly. It's very lightweight.

Any beauty grails?

For healthy, shiny hair I have this Shiseido hair oil bought in Japan and have not stopped repurchasing since. Fino Premium Touch is what it's called. Not expensive, super affordable, and just works wonders on dry hair, it's just amazing. 

And lastly, what do you pick up from the infamous French pharmacies?

La Roche-Posay Cicaplast Baume B5. It's just never not in the house, always restocking if I'm near a pharmacy.

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Such simplicity and directness of purpose didn’t happen overnight. Pawson, raised in Yorkshire, and who worked formatively under Shiro Kuramata, the generationally important Japanese designer, and founding member of Memphis Group,  entered the Architectural Association School of Architecture in his late 20s already converted to minimalism, then opened his practice in 1981. At the time, maximalism was popular; but Pawson’s projects weathered the trend, and created a new language for minimalism. The Calvin store, Pawson’s first commission of scale, veered retail design into the radically minimal. The 30-foot high windows—suggested in jest to Klein by Pawson—that didn’t display any jeans or clothing made waves in the industry; so did the phenomenon of people coming in just to experience the store. The same reverent, spare and straight aesthetic would appear in churches and monasteries his firm later designed.  40 years in, it makes for a broad body of work, that is minimalist on the surface with a maximum of effort below. Work that is easy to look at, but hard to create.

We spoke to Pawson from his London office about his new book, sacred spaces, Calvin Klein, and the difference between designing buildings and clothes. 

You worked with Shiro Kuramata at a young age and discovered Domus and Mies van der Rohe as a youth. How'd architecture show up for you so early? 

For Mies, I must have been around mid teenage years. Kurumata I found at about 18. I left school at 17, traveled the world for a year or two. I was in Newcastle, and the gallery there had Domus. There was also a furniture magazine called Mobilia, which had lots of things I liked. I devoured those. When you spend time reading, all your experience comes from photographs or magazines. I found Kuramata in Domus in 1968 and thought this is a living architect who does work. It was Mies and Kurumata, and that was it. Still is, actually. 

I think of that story where you asked Philip Johnson, the great architect, about his mentor, Mies, and he brushed it off. What was it about Mies’ work that struck you so early and stayed with you? 

With Mies, every single thing you saw was an edited work. The Farnsworth House [in Plano, Ill.], the Barcelona Pavilion, the Seagram Building, the [Promontory] apartments in Chicago. They were all as near to perfect as I could think, really. And the works just got stronger over time. Spending time at the Farnsworth House, [van der Rohe’s seminal 1951 modernist house in Illinois]  being able to enjoy it personally was fantastic. It was also quite surprising. I didn't realize how generous the proportions were. 

In what sense? 

Everything was wider and taller and more spacious than you saw from the photographs. Even his Barcelona chair is big enough for two people.

I'm curious how your own work has evolved in the past 40 years. Is it more minimalist? Is the approach different with a team? 

It's a bit easier. My clients are young now, and before I was a young guy and they were mature. But nothing's really changed. It’s been very consistent. It’s surprising to me. I'm not completely blinkered, but I tend to keep my head down and get on with the work. You can't ignore what happens, but it's not a fashion thing, driven by trends. Things are a bit different than 40 years ago. But not our approach. The tenets are still there. 

I read you keep up quite a bit with engineering projects, like bridges and roads. What draws you to these structures? 

I'm not sure if you could draw a direct line to it, but architecture with a single purpose, like a bridge, or a motorway, or a dam, there's something spare about the form. They have a single purpose and their engineering makes them visually simple, which is also pleasing. You tend to only be able to do that if you’re doing a bridge. A house is always very complicated; it’s not a single form.  

Are the monasteries and churches you made closer to that? 

The interior of a church should be simple enough, so it doesn't distract you from the job at hand, to get closer to God, or to at least pray, and have a few moments of silence. The rest of the monasteries, the cloister, and the refectory and all the other rooms are designed as visually simple. They have to function. 

At the beginning of your career, was it tougher to get your minimalist ethos across to clients? 

It was very difficult to get across to the teachers. But there were early adopters. Doris Saatchi, an American in London, was a great patron. And then Calvin Klein, who was introduced to me by Ian Schrager, the hotelier. That set the whole thing on a different scale. It changed my life, actually, not just my career. It's hard to overestimate the impact. 

Did Calvin have a specific vision of how he wanted the shop to look like? Or were you directing it? 

He's an architect manqué and was interested in architecture and designing it together. He had very strong ideas. You can identify Calvin a lot in the finished product. He likes black and white and contrast. I said as a joke to make the windows one piece of glass, which is quite hard—36 feet high, the biggest piece you can get. But that was him. And there are things I wouldn't have done, but luckily I saw sense.

What would you not have done? What did you change your mind about? 

Minor things. I wouldn't have had so much contrast or detailed the handrails as they are. But I'm quite happy now, especially how successful the store was. I didn't realize how fresh and new it was for people in New York. It wasn’t life or death for me. 

What is it about the details of a bare minimalist work that makes it affect people? 

There is a feeling walking into spaces like the ones we do, where people expel air, feeling something different. And of course, there people walk in and have no idea at all, or who think it's a lot of nothing, or it's empty, or there's something strange going on. But creating that atmosphere is hard work, and is far from minimal. It’s not a question of painting the walls white or putting a wood floor down. It’s the whole complete thing. Even the placement of the furniture.  

Is it because you're trying to maximize space, or light? 

Trying to make people feel good is the biggest thing. And space. The feeling you get in space is important. People aren’t necessarily relaxing, but feel stimulated or excited. It's a visceral feeling. 

Your architecture work can be collaborative, but is it different with object design? Is it a collaboration with the object company, or a brief, or a lark? 

We're all architects here, we're not product designers. The products we occasionally design are approached from an architectural point of view. We rely on the manufacturer to develop the object and produce it. It can take a long time, getting from the idea to the table is a long process. The cooking pans we did [with Demeyere, in 2007] took about nine years. We approach them as if they're buildings a bit. 

In what way? 

The objects are complex. There are a lot of parts. It’s small architecture, for me. It’s also not two different teams in our office. The best architects make the best objects. 

I have to ask because this is a fashion magazine. Are you minimalist with your own clothing? Are you taking the same architectural approach—fewer seams, fewer lines—to dressing? 

Yes, but not in a design way. The shirts are white, the trousers are gray, the pullover is grey. Shoes are black. Socks are black. Overcoat, black. But it's not all black. My wife likes very colorful dresses, which I've learned to keep my mouth shut about. It's like the painting on the wall. It’s her dress, it's their house. I wouldn't want everyone dressed like I think. it would be terrible. And for architecture as well. Thank God for variety.

John Pawson: The Minimal Home by John Pawson and Deyan Sudjic is published by Phaidon, £39.95 (Phaidon.com)

The "Deep Royal Blue" Air Force 1 '07 LV8 is a symphony of glossy blue hues that gives the classic AF1 sneaker an ultramarine makeover. Classic blue leather dominates the upper, while glossy paneling adds depth without straying too far from the cerulean path.

Blue laces, blue outsole, blue Swoosh- this shoe is a cerulean abyss from tip to tail. Well, almost.

The only interruptions to the blue harmony come from the white midsole, which sports the classic, crisp rubber that's been a hallmark of the Nike AF1 forever.

Iterating on classic sneaker silhouettes like the Air Force 1 is a hallmark of Nike's design language.

Why reinvent the wheel when you can improve on the shoes that paved the way? It's this same logic that's given us so many all-white Air Force 1 models.

Even when they all look the same at a glance, subtle differences allow these exemplary shoes to take on new lives, over and over again.

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You know, for when you have to officiate a wedding at 1:00 and lead a hike at 2:00.

The glossy finish adds to the sneaker's dressy demeanor that's rounded out by the thin, derby-style laces. True to the Salomon code, though, the MM6 Crossderby features the sport equipment brand's signature drawstring lace system, which effectively blurs the line between a bona fide dress shoe and a trail-ready boot.

Underneath, the Crossderby is sitting big on a Mud Contagrip rubber outsole that slightly extends beyond the toe.

MM6 and Salomon represent one of the more striking sides of the footwear collaboration spectrum, combining high fashion elements with tactile underlinings.

These cross-spectrum team-ups have birthed a lineup of avant-garde outputs like the bootie-style neoprene Salomon Cross Low and the luxed-up XT-4 mule.

Now, Salomon and MM6 are back together again, adding an all-new sneaker model to the mix with the Crossderby, the ultimate crossbreed shoe available on the Salomon website on October 21 for $635.

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Enter the Nike Lahar Low.

At first glance, it looks a little rough around the edges, and all the better for it. With its chunky laces, sturdy shape, and all-black finish, it’s got just enough attitude to give your usual slim sneakers a much-needed shake-up. Not every shoe needs to be sleek and streamlined, after all. Sometimes, a little extra heft is exactly what the doctor ordered.

And while the Lahar Low looks ready to take on the elements, it doesn't require a full gorpcore wardrobe to make sense. Wear it with loose-fitting denim, baggy cargos, or your favorite cord pants. The black-on-black treatment keeps things easy to style, while the rugged silhouette adds a little more attitude to the usual sneaker rotation.

It's a solid alternative for anyone who wants something sturdier than their everyday kicks but isn't quite ready to commit to heavy-duty boots. With colder days creeping in, the Lahar Low makes a pretty convincing case for switching things up.

The Lahar Low is available for $140 on Nike's website now.

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Yesterday the artist published a few-and-far-between Instagram Story flexing Prada’s updated America’s Cup sneaker. The shoe itself is a callback to a 1999 America’s Cup sneaker, the performance shoe designed specifically for the Prada Luna Rossa sailing team’s first race (called America’s Cup, hence the name).

Today’s America’s Cup, available on Prada's website for $950, is made of brushed leather and bike fabric, engineered to be lighter and more streamlined than the original sneaker, a similar technical mesh shoe intended to be a bit clunkier for on-boat-wearers. (There’s an obvious pun here between Frank Ocean wearing the updated version of a shoe literally intended to be worn in the ocean.)

Check out our exclusive up-close photos of the bike mesh kicks above and below, where we got up close with the shoe's subtle tweaks, borrowed from the 1999 original.

The thing about Frank Ocean and Prada, is that he wears the good Prada. His relationship with the brand often leans into everyday-wear vibes like these America’s Cup sneakers and even his 2019 Met Gala look. Ocean prefers the bread and butter Prada silhouettes, as we’ve seen in his black gabardine anorak look for the 2019 Met Gala, and his three-piece Homer collaboration with the Milanese brand from 2021 that included a backpack, belt bag, and another triangle-logo anorak.

Two things can be true — Frank is alive and well, and he’s still in Prada.

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