Ever wondered what goes on behind the scenes at Paris Fashion Week? Here, Parlour X Director Eva Galambos is opening the door to the French capital, capturing the pulse of the fashion industry from the inside. From the sculptural calm of Uma Wang to the unapologetic theatre of Mugler, she moves through each show and appointment with the sharp eye of a buyer and the curiosity of a creative. The result is a rare look at fashion week beyond the front row. Read her nine-day travel diary, below.

Day one

Paris in September always feels like the first page of a new chapter. Traffic humming, camera shutters clicking, heels tapping over cobblestones, you can feel the rhythm before you even settle in.

Our first runway of the week was Julie Kegels. The show was raw, refined, quietly daring and creativity quirky in the best possible way.

Then we moved onto the Kering Headquarters to buy our new season sunglasses. A quadruple world of YSL, Bottega Veneta, Chloé and Alaïa, each delivering their own visual language. Sunlit leathers, architectural tailoring, silhouettes that hover between present and future. You could smell fresh flowers, espresso, and ambition in the air.

Next, it was time for the Vaquera Runway, which changed the tempo of the day. Irreverence, wit, and a reminder that fashion does not exist in a straight line.

And then, seemingly just like that, the day ended in a way only Paris offers, where creativity and movement feel like one continuous breath. No dinner. Straight to bed. Jet lag takes over.

Day two

Paris woke up slowly, and so did we. Soft light filtered through the curtains of our accomodation, a quiet build to what became a full day.

Zomer runway kick-started the morning, beginning with sculptural beauty, garments folding and unfolding like paper under thoughtful hands. There was power in the collection's restraint.

The Lanvin show was softer, bringing effortless elegance and ease to the runway. Breezy tailoring floated through the space, and a palette of sand and sky spoke softly, yet full of control.

The night belonged to Dries Van Noten, with a runway drenched in sun-washed florals and undone layers. Sarongs, tailored ease, prints layered with prints. Everything in motion, even while standing still. The duality was deliberate: form and freedom, tension and tenderness, all woven into one steady breath.

Dinner was at Zapi, a new Italian favourite recommended by our buyer, Allie. Fresh pasta, cosy tables, cool loud 70s decor, and that honey sweet tiramisu that is now embedded in my memory forever. Simple, joyful, perfect.

Day three

By day three, the energy had quickened, and Paris hit its stride.

Alain Paul Runway opened with performance, with fashion that doubled as live theatre. Each look felt like a character entering stage right, owning their moment.

Then it was on to the Dries showroom in the Marais. Painterly florals against stripes, tailoring anchored by sneakers. It all felt intimate.

That night, we dined with ten Australians. Kym Ellery and I curated a table at La Belle Époque, a space full of Parisian charm, panelled mirrors, and waiters that remember your order before you do. Champagne, shared plates, and full-volume conversations set the tone for a uniquely Australian table in the middle of Paris, in the best possible way.

Day four

Shows, meetings, late dinners, and early mornings blended into a rhythm that felt natural, even when exhausting.

The Uma Wang runway brought a different kind of quiet, via padded shapes and sculptural calm – it was soft, but not delicate.

Our A.W.A.K.E Mode appointment was fabulous because the collection is always fabulous. This time around sharpened the lines even more; sensuality with precision. It’s impossible to stick to a budget here.

The Mugler runway broke everything open again. Structure, confidence, fascination. Pamela Anderson added to the theatre, with a kind of glamour that does not try to explain itself.

And then, the Rabanne runway closed the loop with metallic liquid, and movement suspended in air.

Somewhere in between it all, we managed to find stillness. A tiny gallery. A few sculptures. A river like silver. Paris saying, even in the noise, there is space to breathe.

I ended the day visiting my friend Raech’s new collection, TEMILY, which is remarkable. So proud.

And last, it was time for the Camilla and Marc Paris Party. Elaborate, buzzing, and full of Australians who looked like they had always belonged in Paris.

Day five

We began the day with a Mugler appointment. After such a fabulous show, it was all the more special going to see the collection up close.

Then we had a Calvin Klein appointment. After a ten year absence, this felt nostalgic in the best way – a conversation between past and present, where merican minimalism meets European restraint.

The Row was the opposite, all silence, no cameras, no theatrics. Craft spoken purely through form, texture and cut. It forces you to look. It forces you to feel.

The Nina Ricci runway opened the day with colour in motion, pieces that floated but were still cut sharply. We were already familiar with the pieces, because we had already bought the collection in June. But the show set the vibe: it was fun, eclectic, and seventies chic.

Dinner was at Costes for our friend Megan’s birthday. Candlelight, champagne, white tablecloths, major celebrities everywhere, all of us trying not to notice. Paris at its most cinematic.

Day six

Saturdays during fashion week are always a big runway day, and this season was no exception, with many of my favourites on today's schedule.

First was Junya Watanabe, then Noir Kei Ninomiya, followed by Comme des Garçons. Three entirely separate worlds, all connected by risk, reconstruction and the right to defy. Punk made poetic. Metal turned soft.

Vivienne Westwood came next. Rebellious, clever, and beautifully made. The show pulsed with her signature attitude – pure Westwood energy.

I ended the day with another lovely dinner with friends at La Baronne. That perfect blend of old French service and relaxed conversation that only happens on the sixth day of Paris.

Day seven

The balance shifted. Fashion week became less about the runway and more about the rooms in between. Moving from showroom to showroom in the Marais we ended up at Comme des Garçons for a five-hour appointment. Immersive, cerebral, layered with possibility, this is a space where clothing becomes concept.

Vaquera, in the DSM showroom, carried that same duality. New York grit translated through Paris ease, full of irreverence and life.

After days of non-stop activity, we treated ourselves to room service of fries and Coke Zero – a Paris fashion week staple. The Hoxton does this so well. Crisp fries, cold glass bottles, no pretence. Exactly what we needed.

Day eight

Sacai reminded us of the beauty in contradiction. Structure against fluidity. Masculine and feminine coexisting without tension.

Alaïa brought sculpted sensuality, via leather and knitwear with a pulse.

Givenchy followed, cool and sharp, each line as deliberate as the last. No excess. Just clarity.

That night, we had dinner at Caviar Kaspia with LaBaba. It was an evening full of warmth, vodka, potato, caviar, and fashion gossip traded like currency over candlelight. Paris nights are sometimes as memorable as Paris shows.

Day nine

The final day carried softer weight. No showrooms. No rush. Just Paris, still in motion but slower now.

We wandered the Tuileries, taking in the symmetry and silence. Next it was lunch at Loulou, with sunlight spilling across the table like it had nowhere else to be. The perfect place for a long conversation without checking the time.

At Place Vendome, the light hit the windows like mirrors. The past and future facing one another again. You realise fashion week ends, but fashion itself never does – it simple changes form. Paris remains. The city waits for us to return, and we always do.