Timothée Chalamet Says Nobody Cares about Opera and Ballet. The Backlash Ignores an Awkward Truth

Timothée Chalamet in a banana-yellow Givenchy suit by Sarah Burton on the red carpet at the 2025 Oscars. Photograph by Christina House/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images. Cover picture by Rahul Rekapalli of Luchen couture in Paris. 

By Craig Dalton

During a recent interview to promote his film Marty Supreme, Best Actor-nominee Timothée Chalamet said “no one cares about” opera and ballet anymore.

The actor’s comments labelled both a slight and a swipe by news outlets has provoked swift rebuke from prominent individuals and opera and ballet companies worldwide. Some have suggested the furore may affect his chances of winning the top award at the Oscars ceremony.

Why have Chalamet’s comments hit such a nerve? Is it because his mother and sister both danced with the School of American Ballet? Or is it the hurtful realisation, as dance critic Gia Kourlas notes in her piece for the New York Times, that the only way for ballet to get noticed in the mainstream media is to be dissed by a celebrity?

A health check on ballet

Dance Australia tried a positive spin on the situation. They suggested Chalamet’s comments “may prove unexpectedly useful […] to articulate, once again, why the artform continues to matter”.

Meanwhile, Queensland Ballet Artistic Director Ivan Gil-Ortega wrote of the challenges of “honouring the heritage of ballet while ensuring it remains alive and relevant for audiences today”.

Former dancer-turned-critic Emma Sandall argued ballet has moved “repeatedly in and out of fashion” and “always existed through one form of patronage or another”.

Australia’s national ballet company, The Australian Ballet, has faced a recent decline in attendance. Total live performances fell from 248 in 2023 to 200 in 2024, while attendance dropped from 305,364 to 225,771.

Live Performance Australia, which incorporates ballet and dance into a single national figure, reported a 10.4% decline in attendance over the same period – and a drop of almost 30% from 2010 to 2024.

Reflecting on its A$9.1 million loss in 2024, Chair of The Australian Ballet, Richard Dammery wrote:

without philanthropy, the Australian Ballet would be in a dire financial position. The company only exists […] because of generous donors.

An analysis of the American sector showed half of the 150 ballet companies surveyed were operating in a deficit in the 2023 financial year. Attendance levels for ballet and other forms of live dance in the US almost halved between 2017-2022.

What about opera?

Opera faces a similar dilemma. Opera companies are vexxed by the question of how to remain loyal to artistic values while embracing market economics.

Research suggests they should look for alternate sources of revenue and overhaul traditional approaches to programming. But this comes with risks, such as alienating core audiences and potential donors.

Opera Australia’s forays into musical theatre previously “allowed the company to grow income at a faster rate than expenditure”.

However, programming Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Sunset Boulevard in 2024 coincided with a A$10 million operating loss and 23% drop in attendance. Former CEO Craig Hassall (CEO from 2013-16) was scathing. He labelled Sunset Boulevard as “disastrous” – and the 2025 follow-up Guys and Dolls as “crazy”.

Reflecting on his final year with the company, Hassall observed that total performances of the musical My Fair Lady rivalled “all of the main-stage operas combined”. He warned:

this addiction to musicals dangerously deprecated the company’s assumed raison d’être: first and foremost, to present opera. Musicals are not opera.

The newly minted CEO, Alex Budd, thanked Chalamet for bringing attention to the art form, and invited him to join the company’s under-35 program. This initiative sold 1,110 tickets when it was launched in 2024. For reference, the capacity of the Joan Sutherland Theatre is 1507.

Budd boasted that Opera Australia has one million seats on sale in 2026. But, in a season that includes three musicals – Anastasia, The Phantom of the Opera and My Fair Lady – he doesn’t say how many of the one million seats are actually for opera.

The world’s largest repertory opera house, The Metropolitan Opera, is adding performances and extending upcoming seasons. But it also faces significant budgetary issues.

Multiple articles published by the New York Times have reported salary cuts, layoffs and a drained deficit fund at the Met Opera. And this is against the backdrop of a tentative deal with Saudi Arabia to secure US$200 million in lifeline funding.

The sale of two Chagall murals owned by the company (valued at US$55 million by Sotheby’s) was also reportedly under consideration.

Labor economist Christos Makridis – who studies the economics of art and culture – recently argued the future is dire for opera companies who concentrate on the preservation of their art form rather than popularising, monetising and growing what they do.

Locally, the Australian Research Council is supporting research to investigate how performing arts companies can increase accessibility and expand audiences. But practical advice will be slow to arrive, and will take time to implement.

The bigger picture

The last National Arts Participation Survey undertaken by Creative Australia found weekly attendance across all art forms dropped from 5% in 2019 to 3% in 2022. This suggests a broader, sector-wide issue.

The opera and ballet sectors continue to argue of their inherent relevance. Popularity, or a lack thereof, does not determine the inherent value of an art form. But a more circumspect position would be to acknowledge and confront the scale of the huge task ahead.

What will opera and ballet organisations do, and change, to ensure their survival?

Chalamet’s words may have galvanised a community. But the community’s response has highlighted a prevalent disconnect between artists’ and administrators’ feelings, and their ability to address the conditions threatening their industries.

Craig Dalton, Lecturer in Musical Theatre, Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts, Edith Cowan University

'Buy it nice or buy it twice’: What the ‘Frugal Chic’ Trend Tells us About our Fashion Choices

Frugal chic means a commitment to purchases that will last for many years and be part of a 'forever wardrobe'. 

By Lorinda Cramer

The “frugal chic” aesthetic is having its moment, however contradictory the concept may seem. “Frugal” suggests a focus on thriftiness, while “chic” oozes a sense of classic luxury.

Coined by former model and content creator Mia McGrath before trending on TikTok, this is one of the latest attempts to change how we think about clothes and disrupt our voracious appetite for fashion.

McGrath encourages Gen Z to think about the positive aspects of making do with less. For her, being frugally chic refers to:

An individual who values quality, high taste, and freedom. They reject this new world of overconsumption that preys on the insecurities of unconscious doom scrollers.

Frugal chic means a commitment to purchases that will last for many years and be part of a “forever wardrobe”.

McGrath calls on consumers to invest in quality – “buy it nice or buy it twice” – while blending luxury purchases with cheaper and even thrifted clothes.

Slow fashion, repair cafes and capsule wardrobes

McGrath is not the first to try to influence change by promoting sustainable, responsible clothing consumption.

The global slow fashion movement supports individuals to (as the name suggests) slow down clothing purchases. But simply shopping less is easier said than done.

Slow fashion is driven by an increased awareness of the environmental and societal impact of the purchases we make. It also means forming a different, deeper relationship with our clothes.

Repair cafes set up in many countries (including Australia) further aid this work. They offer opportunities for people to fix their clothes – whether broken zips, missing buttons, rips, or something more complex – with the help of skilled repairers.

An uptick in “capsule wardrobes” has also been framed as a responsible choice. A capsule wardrobe encourages fewer classic, high-quality items in neutral colours as staples that can be worn interchangeably with each other and with bolder accent pieces.

Each of these matters as a counterpoint to what has become a massive problem: Australia’s spiralling consumption and discard rates.

Our passion for fashion

In 2024, Australians purchased 1.51 billion items of new clothing. That’s the equivalent of 55 garments for every person each year.

Many of those clothes don’t form part of a “forever wardrobe”. Across that same year, Australians sent 220,000 tonnes of castoffs to landfills. That’s 880 million items. A further 36 million items of unwanted clothing were shipped overseas, adding to mounting global landfills.

The production, consumption, use and disposal of clothing are emission-intensive. In 2024, Australia’s per capita emissions for clothing were equivalent to driving more than 3,600 kilometres in a petrol-fuelled car. That’s further than a road trip from Melbourne to Perth.

Despite these startling figures, our shopping continues.

Restrictions and austerity

Frugal chic has plenty of historical parallels. Though the contexts differ, these moments encouraged Australians to make do with the little they had.

More than 150 years ago, as a flood of gold-rush migrants descended on Australia, many had only a few changes of clothes – as many as could be counted on one hand. This was considered sufficient.

Clothing did not have a single life. It could be mended, adjusted and adapted. It could be passed down from person to person. Clothing was so valuable it was often bequeathed.

At the end of its wearable life, clothing was recycled into something new. It might be cut down to fit children, pieced together and sewn into quilts and waggas (quilts made out of recycled clothes, fabric scraps, old blankets and burlap bags) for warmth at night, or torn into rags.

This considered attitude to clothing did not end in the 20th century. Global upheavals continued to underline the critical importance of long clothing lifecycles.

In the Great Depression, as rates of unemployment soared, clothing budgets plummeted. This demanded ingenuity to keep families clothed.

Austerity measures introduced in Australia during World War II included the rationing of clothing. Measures also included the control of clothing styles to save fabric, threads and buttons. Known as “victory styling”, this created a direct link between less clothing and contributing to the war effort.

Ration books for food and clothing during WWII (1939-1945). Australian War Memorial

Some responded by making new clothes out of old garments salvaged from the back of wardrobes. Others turned to novel materials such as sugar bags to make themselves new outfits.

Reframing restraint

Like these historical examples, the “frugal chic” aesthetic frames frugality as virtuous – aligning with the shift towards sustainability – and aspirational, signalling an intention to live more mindfully.

In today’s context, it’s also inextricably linked to the cost-of-living crisis that has encouraged a rise in secondhand clothing and dress hire.

But “frugal chic” is not without tension. For one thing, most “frugal chic” content casts frugality as a choice rather than a necessity for dealing with issues of overconsumption or low income.

For another, it could be seen as an example of the pressure placed on women to look and act in certain ways – not simply to prioritise sustainability, but to appear both fashionable and financially savvy at the same time.

Will the “frugal chic” aesthetic change how we think about our clothes? It’s hard to say, but all rallying cries for sustainable fashion consumption hold potential for much-needed change.

Lorinda Cramer, Lecturer, Cultural Heritage and Museum Studies, Deakin University

Is Social Media Addictive? How it Keeps You Clicking and the Harms it Can Cause

The consequences of social media overuse can be significiant. Recent studies have identified a wide range of pernicious effects. 

By Quynh Hoang

For years, big tech companies have placed the burden of managing screen time squarely on individuals and parents, operating on the assumption that capturing human attention is fair game.

But the social media sands may slowly be shifting. A test-case jury trial in Los Angeles is accusing big tech companies of creating “addiction machines”. While TikTok and Snapchat have already settled with the 20-year-old plaintiff, Meta’s CEO, Mark Zuckerberg, is due to give evidence in the courtroom this week.

The European Commission recently issued a preliminary ruling against TikTok, stating that the app’s design – with features such as infinite scroll and autoplay – breaches the EU Digital Services Act. One industry expert told the BBC that the problem is “no longer just about toxic content, it’s about toxic design”.

Meta and other defendants have historically argued that their platforms are communication tools, not traps, and that “addiction” is a mischaracterisation of high engagement.

“I think it’s important to differentiate between clinical addiction and problematic use,” Instagram chief Adam Mosseri testified in the LA court. He noted that the field of psychology does not classify social media addiction as an official diagnosis.

Tech giants maintain that users and parents have the agency and tools to manage screen time. However, a growing body of academic research suggests features like infinite scrolling, autoplay and push notifications are engineered to override human self-control.

Video: CBS News.

A state of ‘automated attachment’

My research with colleagues on digital consumption behaviour also challenges the idea that excessive social media use is a failure of personal willpower. Through interviews with 32 self-identified excessive users and an analysis of online discussions dedicated to heavy digital use, we found that consumers frequently enter a state of “automated attachment”.

This is when connection to the device becomes purely reflexive, as conscious decision-making is effectively suspended by the platform’s design.

We found that the impulse to use these platforms sometimes occurs before the user is even fully conscious. One participant admitted: “I’m waking up, I’m not even totally conscious, and I’m already doing things on the device.”

Another described this loss of agency vividly: “I found myself mindlessly opening the [TikTok] app every time I felt even the tiniest bit bored … My thumb was reaching to its old spot on reflex, without a conscious thought.”

Social media proponents argue that “screen addiction” isn’t the same as substance abuse. However, new neurophysiological evidence suggests that frequent engagement with these algorithms alters dopamine pathways, fostering a dependency that is “analogous to substance addiction”.

Strategies that keep users engaged

The argument that users should simply exercise willpower also needs to be understood in the context of the sophisticated strategies platforms employ to keep users engaged. These include:

1. Removing stopping cues

Features like infinite scroll, autoplay and push notifications create a continuous flow of content. By eliminating natural end-points, the design effectively shifts users into autopilot mode, making stopping a viewing session more difficult.

2. Variable rewards

Similar to a slot machine, algorithms deliver intermittent, unpredictable rewards such as likes and personalised videos. This unpredictability triggers the dopamine system, creating a compulsive cycle of seeking and anticipation.

3. Social pressure

Features such as notifications and time-limited story posts have been found to exploit psychological vulnerabilities, inducing anxiety that for many users can only be relieved by checking the app. Strategies employing “emotional steering” can take advantage of psychological vulnerabilities, such as people’s fear of missing out, to instil a sense of social obligation and guilt if they attempt to disconnect.

Vulnerability in children

The issue of social media addiction is of particular concern when it comes to children, whose impulse control mechanisms are still developing. The US trial’s plaintiff says she began using social media at the age of six, and that her early exposure to these platforms led to a spiral into addiction.

A growing body of research suggests that “variable reward schedules” are especially potent for developing minds, which exhibit a heightened sensitivity to rewards. Children lack the cognitive brakes to resist these dopamine loops because their emotional regulation and impulsivity controls are still developing.

Lawyers in the US trial have pointed to internal documents, known as “Project Myst”, which allegedly show that Meta knew parental controls were ineffective against these engagement loops. Meta’s attorney, Paul Schmidt, countered that the plaintiff’s struggles stemmed from pre-existing childhood trauma rather than platform design.

The company has long argued that it provides parents with “robust tools at their fingertips”, and that the primary issue is “behavioural” – because many parents fail to use them.

Our study heard from many adults (mainly in their 20s) who described the near-impossibility of controlling levels of use, despite their best efforts. If these adults cannot stop opening apps on reflex, expecting a child to exercise restraint with apps that affect human neurophysiology seems even more unrealistic.

Potential harms of overuse

The consequences of social media overuse can be significant. Our research and recent studies have identified a wide range of potential harms.

These include “psychological entrapment”. Participants in our study described a “feedback loop of doom and despair”. Users can turn to platforms to escape anxiety, only to find that the scrolling deepens their feelings of emptiness and isolation.

Excessive exposure to rapidly changing, highly stimulating content can fracture the user’s attention span, making it harder to focus on complex real-world tasks.

And many users describe feeling “defeated” by the technology. Social media’s erosion of autonomy can leave people unable to align their online actions, such as overlong sessions, with their intentions.

A ruling against social media companies in the LA court case, or enforced redesign of their apps in the EU, could have profound implications for the way these platforms are operated in future.

But while big tech companies have grown at dizzying rates over the past two decades, attempts to rein in their products on both sides of the Atlantic remain slow and painstaking. In this era of “use first, legislate later”, people all over the world, of all ages, are the laboratory mice.

Quynh Hoang, Lecturer in Marketing and Consumption, Department of Marketing and Strategy, University of Leicester

The Oscars are not a Meritocracy - There is a Complex Formula for Winning

Chris Rock on stage at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood where the annual Academy Awards ceremony for the Oscars is held. Photograph: Adam Taylor/Disney General Entertainment. Cover picture of Luchen by Rahul Rekapalli for DAM.

By William Simon

Every January, Hollywood is overtaken by a massive Oscar prediction game, with studios, critics and commentators all playing a role in shaping the debate. But choosing a winner is more complicated than acknowledging a film’s artistic merit. The Oscars are decided on by a large peer group of some 10,000 Academy members, who confidentially vote for their colleagues in their specialised field. All eligible members, however, can vote on Best Picture.

In an era where nearly every major film is carefully packaged and marketed for profit, predicting an Oscar winner seems like a complex science.

The most crucial way a film positions itself as a contender relates to its status as a “prestige” picture. This is earned through highbrow themes, strategic release timing, critical acclaim, and plenty of lobbying.

What gives a film prestige?

Prestige pictures typically examine subjects that hit a nerve with Academy voters, such as injustice, intense relationships, and the triumph of the human spirit.

This thematic preoccupation is amply demonstrated through previous Best Picture winners including The King’s Speech (2010), 12 Years A Slave (2013), Philadelphia (1993) and Schindler’s List (1993). The only recent winner that seemed to deliberately reject such tropes was No Country for Old Men (2007).

This year’s top contenders also have these recognisable tropes. Hamnet, for instance, focuses on the misfortunes of William Shakespeare’s tragic family life.

Chloé Zhao’s Hamnet received eight Oscar nominations and won the 2026 Golden Globe for Best Motion Picture Drama. Focus Features

Meanwhile, Sinners (which has earned a record 16 nominations) is a thrilling genre-bender, combining supernatural horror with historical injustices endured by African Americans. Its originality places it in pole position for Best Original Screenplay.

Starring Michael B. Jordan as Stack (left) and his twin brother Smoke (right), Sinners became the most-awarded movie by a Black director at the BAFTAs. Warner Bros. Pictures

Timing, marketing and previous acclaim

The timing of a film’s release remains a key component of its prestige status. Most Oscar-nominated films are released between September and December. This keeps them fresh in voters’ minds during the nomination and voting periods.

Critical recognition also matters enormously. Voters are often fond of following the crowd and, as a result, will favour films that have already triumphed at significant events such as the Cannes Film Festival.

This year’s Best Actor race also illustrates how previous near misses, and commercial success, can build momentum for an actor.

Timothée Chalamet was previously nominated for A Complete Unknown (2024) and Call Me by Your Name (2017), and has been widely praised for his work in the blockbuster Dune franchise. This makes him a top contender for this year’s Best Actor award, even though his character in Marty Supreme is an unlikable parasitic hustler.

Similarly, front-runner Paul Thomas Anderson seems poised to claim the Best Director prize, after 11 previous nominations in various categories. His film, One Battle After Another, also connects with the zeitgeist. The current headlines about ICE raids, immigration detention centres and police crackdowns make it ahead of its time.

Oscar-winning potential is also determined by what industry insiders call “positive buzz”. Creating this buzz is a strategic and expensive undertaking, funded by major studios, that propels certain films into awards contention.

Greta Gerwig’s Barbie (2023) was a good example. Warner Bros is reported to have matched the film’s production budget with an equally substantial marketing budget and secured more than 100 brand partnerships (including Airbnb and Burger King). “Pinkification” dominated social media and positioned the film as having significant cultural relevance.

20th Century Studios appear to be adopting a similar strategy for the upcoming The Devil Wears Prada 2.

Networks and lobbying

Professional networks allow certain films to benefit from what American sociologist Robert K. Merton called “cumulative advantage”. Applied here, this principle explains how established talent attracts more prestigious collaborators, producing films that Academy voters are more likely to take seriously, and therefore vote for. As a result, Oscar success becomes increasingly concentrated in the same elite circles.

The Academy’s newly introduced Achievement in Casting category is a good example of how collaborative advantage plays out in films with A-listers.

Consider Leonardo Di Caprio’s commanding presence in One Battle After Another, or the ongoing partnership between director Yorgos Lanthimos and actress Emma Stone. Stone’s cold and calculating character in Bugonia is a departure from her more empathetic roles, while Di Caprio’s fallible anti-hero father is equally far removed from previous “leading man” characters.

When famous actors play against type, they generate conversations that amplify a film’s visibility – creating awards-season talking points.

Yorgos Lanthimos’s Bugonia has earned four Oscar nominations, with Emma Stone already a two-time winner. Universal Pictures International Australasia

Lobbying also has a role to play. Direct lobbying involves public relations ploys to embed a movie into the audience’s consciousness and, crucially, into the minds of Academy voters. This might look like issuing industry notices, setting up magazine features, screeners, previews, free ticket offers, and special events (such as question and answer sessions).

But there’s also a form of indirect lobbying, that is arguably more effective in planting favourable stories about a film, or denigrating opponents.

Shakespeare in Love’s Best Picture win over Saving Private Ryan in 1999 remains the best example of how an aggressive campaign can override merit. In this case the campaign was backed by Harvey Weinstein – then head of Miramax (and not yet a convicted sexual abuser) – who, among other things, resorted to badmouthing Saving Private Ryan to journalists.

Oscar prediction remains a science that combines art, commerce, marketing and – to some extent – merit. It’s a dazzling lottery that rewards not the “best” in Hollywood, but the more “probable”.

William Simon, Casual Lecturer (Education and English Departments), University of Tasmania

Paris Fashion Week: The Feather Forecast, Lùchen's Reclaimed Couture Takes Wing in the French Capital

The Lùchen presentation in Paris was the first for the New York designer. Photograph (above) and cover picture by Rahul Rekapalli for DAM 

At Paris Fashion Week, New York-based designer Lu Chen debuted her latest couture collection in the French capital. The presentation focused on sculptural silhouettes, layered textures and innovative surfaces constructed from reclaimed elements. Combining experimental fabrication with disciplined structure, Chen proposed a contemporary vision of couture, highlighting both the creative potential of reused materials and a new generation’s approach to craft and design. Story by Antonio Visconti. Photographs by Rahul Rekapalli

Designer Lu Chen with  

her new pieces in Paris.

AMID the elegant Belle Epoque salons on Boulevard de Courcelles in Paris, designer Lu Chen introduced her most recent work. Models struck poses among the mannequins and demonstrated how the designs challenge conventional ideas of couture. 

Presented during a sunny spring afternoon, the collection unfolded as a quiet study in material experimentation, where editors, journalists, photographers and buyers moved closely around the pieces to observe their intricate surfaces and unusual structures.

Rather than treating clothing as static form, the designer investigates how fabric and unconventional materials react when placed in dialogue with the human body. 

The silhouettes in this collection shift between restriction and release. Some pieces appear suspended around the figure in tight volumes, the body kept in carefully engineered shapes, while others fall into looser draped forms that respond to gravity and movement.

Lu Chen’s new work shows a designer intent on expanding the vocabulary of contemporary couture, with a fusion of recycled materials, delicate skill, and structural innovation

Feather-like materials create

an elegant tromp l'oeil effect.

Central to the collection is an exploration of feather-like textures. Instead of relying solely on natural plumage, Chen constructs elaborate surfaces from fragments of reclaimed textiles and synthetic materials. 

These small pieces are meticulously cut and assembled, creating layered fields that resemble feathers at a distance but reveal their composite origins up close. The resulting effect suggests a new kind of couture embellishment: one formed through accumulation and reconstruction rather than traditional ornament.

This dialogue between authenticity and artifice runs throughout the presentation. Real feathers appear sparingly, introducing a moment of softness and fragility among the denser, constructed surfaces. 

Their presence draws attention to the contrast between organic delicacy and the engineered textures built from reclaimed materials. In doing so, Chen subtly questions the hierarchy of preciousness that has historically defined couture craftsmanship.

Instead of relying on natural plumage, feather-like elements are created from fragments of reclaimed textiles and synthetic material which are central to the collection

Using recycled materials is

central to Lu Chen's ethos.

The material palette extends well beyond fabric. Recycled acrylic forms part of the structural framework in several garments, while unexpected elements, such as crushed shells, fragments resembling eggshell, and small glass spheres, are incorporated as textural accents. These details lend the pieces an almost geological quality, as if the garments had grown through layers of sediment rather than been assembled in an atelier.

Despite this experimental spirit, the collection remains grounded in a finely tailored approach to structure. Chen’s training at Parsons School of Design is evident in the precise manipulation of form. Panels are suspended, layered, and offset to create tension between rigidity and fluidity. In some looks, fabric cascades in weighted folds that shift with each step of the wearer; in others, sculptural shapes appear to hover slightly away from the body, suggesting both protection and distance.

What emerges is a vision of couture where each fragment, seam, and textile acts as evidence of the designer’s investigation into how clothing can evolve. As Paris Fashion Week continues to welcome a new generation of experimental voices, Chen’s presentation signals a designer intent on expanding the vocabulary of contemporary couture. Through its fusion of recycled materials, delicate skill, and structural innovation, Chen evokes a future in which luxury is not defined only by opulence, but by intelligence and imagination.

See more highlights from the Lùchen couture presentation during Paris Fashion Week 

Paris Fashion Week: Ghost Protocol Anrealage’s Futuristic Runway Where Clothing Becomes Code and Identity Becomes Fluid

Anrealage's scintillating designs lit up with lights embedded in the textiles, on the runway at IRCAM in Paris. 

At Paris Fashion Week, Kunihiko Morinaga delivered one of the season’s most intellectually charged shows, exploring unsettling territory between visibility and disappearance. Drawing on the cyberpunk philosophy of Ghost in the Shell, he imagined garments that could merge with their surroundings and dissolve into digital imagery. The result was thought-provoking, transforming fashion into a meditation on identity and the boundary between the real and the virtual. Story by Jeanne-Marie Cilento

The designs merged with the iridescent

background on the runway in Paris. 

AT a moment when technology is reshaping not only how we communicate but how we perceive ourselves, Japanese designer Kunihiko Morinaga continues to position fashion at the intersection of philosophy, science and spectacle. His new Autumn-Winter 2026/2027 collection, titled Ghost, is an ambitious exploration of visibility, identity and the increasingly porous boundary between the body and the digital world.

Held at IRCAM (Institut de Recherche et Coordination Acoustique/Musique), where science, architecture and the avant-garde arts regularly intersect, Kunihiko Morinaga staged one of the most intriguing and provocative shows of Paris Fashion Week. The designer’s collection evoked the shifting relationship with the human body in an increasingly digital age.

Founded in 1977 by composer Pierre Boulez, IRCAM has long served as one of the world’s leading laboratories for experimental sound and multimedia research. The complex, which also has spaces underground, has hosted generations of artists exploring the frontier between art and technology. Morinaga’s decision to present his collection here felt especially apt: like IRCAM’s composers and digital pioneers, the designer treats creativity as a form of research, using fashion to test ideas about perception, space and the future of human expression.

Morinaga has long approached fashion as experimental design, using clothing to explore philosophical questions about reality and illusion. This season he turned to the cyberpunk universe of Ghost in the Shell, a cultural touchstone that imagines a future where the boundaries between humans and machines dissolve. Translating that concept into fashion, the designer proposed garments that challenge the very idea of visibility.

The collision of retro glamour and futuristic technology created a visual tension that ran throughout the collection

Seventies references made an 

interesting combination with 

the futuristic designs. 

Yet Morinaga’s collection was not solely a technological demonstration. Beneath the digital spectacle lay a strong sense of form and craft. Many silhouettes were sculptural and protective, their rounded volumes recalling biological forms or futuristic armour. 

Others referenced the exuberant spirit of 1970s fashion, with flared trousers, layered structures and flamboyant ruffles introducing an unexpected note of theatricality. The collision of retro glamour and futuristic technology created a visual tension that ran throughout the collection.

Several looks appeared to merge with their surroundings, their surfaces animated by shifting patterns and projected imagery that responded to the environment around them. Instead of presenting clothing as a static object, Morinaga transformed it into a responsive interface. 

Dresses, coats and tailored pieces seemed to flicker between presence and absence as visual information flowed across their surfaces. At moments, the wearer appeared almost absorbed into the background, as though the body itself were dissolving into a digital landscape.

This illusion was achieved through an ambitious collaboration with Led Tokyo, whose advanced display systems allowed garments to function like moving screens. Thousands of tiny lights embedded within the fabric generated constantly changing imagery, enabling clothing to mimic surrounding patterns or display entirely new ones. The effect suggested a future in which garments operate less like textiles and more like dynamic media platforms.

Thousands of tiny lights embedded in the fabric generated changing imagery, enabling clothing to mimic surrounding patterns or display entirely new ones

The blurred, painterly effects made 

the designs seem out of focus.  

Prints played an equally important role in shaping the narrative. Psychedelic florals appeared alongside motifs reminiscent of circuit boards, digital code and fragmented imagery, evoking the visual overload of contemporary life on multiple screens.

Some fabrics carried painterly effects that seemed almost blurred, as if the images themselves were slipping in and out of focus. 

These textiles were produced using advanced printing methods developed by Kyocera, allowing highly detailed imagery to be rendered while significantly reducing water consumption in the production process.

The setting amplified the conceptual drama. As projections moved across IRCAM’s interior, garments and environment began to interact in unpredictable ways.

Models appeared at times sharply defined, at other moments nearly invisible against the shifting visual backdrop. The runway became a constantly transforming field where clothing, architecture and technology blurred into a single immersive experience.

In a world increasingly mediated by screens, data and digital environments, the collection suggested that the human presence may no longer be fixed 

Romance and history meet in this enchanting

 jacket: futuristic in construction but 16th 

Century in silhouette 

Morinaga founded Anrealage in 2003, combining the words “real,” “unreal” and “age” to describe his vision of contemporary fashion. Over the past two decades he has steadily built a reputation for pushing the boundaries of what clothing can be, frequently merging traditional craftsmanship with experimental technology.

With Ghost, that inquiry reached a new level of sophistication. Rather than simply presenting futuristic garments, Morinaga posed a deeper question about identity itself. 

In a world increasingly mediated by screens, data and digital environments, the collection suggested that the human presence may no longer be fixed or easily defined. Fashion, in this context, becomes a powerful tool for exploring how we appear.  

In the end, the collection lingered as a haunting thought experiment. If clothing can dissolve the body into its surroundings, what remains of the self? 

Morinaga’s answer is deliberately ambiguous. Somewhere between presence and absence, between human and machine, fashion reveals a new territory, one where identity flickers like light across a screen.

See more highlights from Kunihiko Morinaga's Anrealage AW26/27 collection in Paris