By now, Louis Vuitton shows at the Louvre are something of a tradition. But for Spring Summer 26, Nicolas Ghesquière invited us not into another of the gallery's grand halls or hidden passages, but into something altogether more personal: the summer apartments of Anne of Austria, Queen of France from 1615 to 1643.
Frescoed ceilings, marble floors, and light streaming through arched windows set the scene for what was to come. With Spring Summer 26, Ghesquière gave us permission to treat dressing as an inward act, with a collection all about the comforts of home — and more specifically, the joy of dressing for yourself.
It was an ode to intimacy, not in the romantic sense, but in the lived-in, everyday kind. Think pieces that feel lifted straight from the wardrobe you only wear when no one’s watching — except here, they're rendered in silk, crystal, embroidery and weightless tailoring. There was a sense of ease and freedom threaded through every look, like a subtle rebellion against the idea that fashion must always be outward-facing.
It follows that, across the collection, archetypes of 'indoor' clothing were reimagined. Lingerie-inspired camisoles were made to be seen, paired with sharply cut trousers. Slouchy robe coats, sheer slips, and soft layering nodded to comfortable domesticity, without ever feeling overly casual. Elements of a traditional “ at home” uniform were elevated with Louis Vuitton's customary couture-level attention to detail.
Scenographer Marie-Anne Derville styled the space like a modern apartment assembled from pieces across eras: Art Deco chairs, 18th-century cabinetry, contemporary art, and sculptural ceramics. The result was a sort of living collage — not unlike the clothes themselves, which drifted and danced between centuries, genres, and moods seamlessly.
The soundtrack, composed by Tanguy Destable and featuring House ambassador Cate Blanchett reciting lyrics from This Must Be the Place by Talking Heads, only deepened the feeling – a reminder that the most personal expressions of style often happen behind closed doors, without spectacle.
