Calvin Klein Collection F/W 2025.26 New York

it’s just ok. could/ should be better.

a third of it it’s just an-already-a-million-times-seen-references without having a real original input.

and the other third aka the ones that also reference but do have something that would usually keep my attention, doesn’t.

unfortunately, I think the main reason for such feeling of mine is that there are a few outfits (the remaining third), so mediocre and boring that it completely kills the stronger offering of the collection:
those squared shirts??
the look on Lexi???
that full denim look??
some of the dresses??
minimal, is not basic.

and the colour palette is… dull.

her last collection for QUIRA was much better. it has vision.

but we’ll wait.

they could’ve considered Sharon Wauchob for the job…
 
Cathy Horyn's Review :

How Do You Decode Calvin’s Minimalism?​

What Veronica Leoni's debut collection needed - a lot more sex appeal.

By Cathy Horyn, the Cut’s fashion critic-at-large since 2015.

In the fall of 2018, when Raf Simons did his “Jaws” collection for Calvin Klein — remember the shark tank top? — I found myself getting restless to see his take on minimalism, and I told him so after the show. After all, Simons is a master of minimalism. He knows his way around the form as well as any of its practitioners, and he knows their work, too, whether it’s Helmut Lang or Jil Sander. But it was not to be. Simons got the boot from Calvin Klein and its parent company, PVH, later that year. Eventually, he got a call from Patrizio Bertelli and joined Prada.

A European with a fascination with American culture, Simons may have worn thin the horror movie themes and the Warhol imagery, but a lot of people will remember something from his debut show. Julia Nobis in a yellow shag fur coat covered in clear vinyl like your granny’s Davenport. The boys and girls in the western wear. The sexy fit of a tweed pantsuit and no shirt underneath. The artist Sterling Ruby’s pompoms and flags hanging from the ceiling of the West 39th Street show space. I got up from that show, as many did, feeling excited and hopeful.

On Friday, in the same space, I felt almost nothing at the conclusion of Veronica Leoni’s show — the first collection line from the brand in seven years. To me, the vibe in the vast, columned room was part corporate, with cream wall-to-wall carpet stamped with what looked like a Calvin Klein logo, and part a weirdly hollow nostalgia trip, with Calvin Klein himself, at 82, in the front row next to his former wife, Kelly Klein.

The designer, who founded the sportswear company in 1968 with Barry K. Schwartz, a childhood friend from the Bronx, hasn’t been a presence at the shows for ages. (He and Schwartz sold the brand to PVH in 2003.) So what did it mean on Friday? It’s nice to be respectful to a founder and a legend, one whose taste influenced style and advertising in the 1980s and 90s. However, in my view, Leoni and the Calvin Klein company needed to make a clean break again, as Simons did in 2017. Leave the past in the past. And instead, give us a strong sense of change.

So that was Leoni’s first error of judgment. The second was that the clothes and the aesthetic (also reflected in her choice of models) were not distinctive enough. Earlier this week, on Wednesday, I met Leoni in the company’s offices and she felt there was space in the market for another minimalist label, in part because some others lacked sophistication, as she put it. “The big mistake is to think that minimalism means commercial,” said Leoni, who lives in Rome and has worked for Celine, Jil Sander and The Row.

Actually, I doubt that any sophisticated fashion consumer thinks that. We’ve seen so many great iterations of minimalism in the last decade — in most seasons from the Olsen sisters; from Co, a label that originated in Los Angeles; from Fforme and Maria McManus, both in New York City, and Phoebe Philo since she launched her label. We also have the legacy of a designer like Lang. It was so powerful and original that no successor, certainly not Peter Do, has been able to capture it adequately.

How do you decode Calvin’s minimalism? That’s easy. It’s sexy and cool. You could even throw in a little grunge from the Kate Moss-Mario Sorrenti era — that is, unless today’s corporate culture is too wholesome for it. But, anyway, that’s what Leoni’s collection needed — a lot more sex appeal. It was generally too buttoned up, without languor. Oddly, when I visited her, she showed me an ivory slip made in a technical viscose — meaning it felt crisp. It was a lovely thing, cool. But if Leoni put the slip in the show, it must have been buried under something because I didn’t see it.

Her strong points in the collection were overcoats and trenches, and some of the suiting, notably a trim style in charcoal pinstripes set on the bias. Her ballet flats and low-heels (drawn from the archive) were a nice touch. Once people can try on the clothes and touch some of the better fabrics, like the poplin shirting and the outerwear materials, they may see a difference, but on the runway that distinctiveness wasn’t evident. Leoni may have been opting for that standard palette-cleansing opener, which is purist and rather strict. But, given the competition, that just puts you at the commercial level. And what this new collection needed at the outset was a striking difference.

THE CUT
 
The delusion of Nicole Phelps:
What previous interpreters of the brand’s legacy have tended to miss is the sensuality of Calvin Klein’s minimalism. Francisco Costa’s was dry; Simons’s wasn’t really minimal at all. Leoni’s previous experience might have suggested that she too would struggle with the hotter side of Calvin’s pure/provocative dynamic. In the business, acolytes of Jil Sander, #OldCeline, and The Row are called fashion nuns for a reason. If the collection never quite reached the level of sexy, it certainly raised the pulse. What elevated this debut, and gave it its potential, was the carefully considered shift in silhouette Leoni maneuvered.
Vogue
 
Cathy Horyn's Review :

How Do You Decode Calvin’s Minimalism?​

What Veronica Leoni's debut collection needed - a lot more sex appeal.

By Cathy Horyn, the Cut’s fashion critic-at-large since 2015.

In the fall of 2018, when Raf Simons did his “Jaws” collection for Calvin Klein — remember the shark tank top? — I found myself getting restless to see his take on minimalism, and I told him so after the show. After all, Simons is a master of minimalism. He knows his way around the form as well as any of its practitioners, and he knows their work, too, whether it’s Helmut Lang or Jil Sander. But it was not to be. Simons got the boot from Calvin Klein and its parent company, PVH, later that year. Eventually, he got a call from Patrizio Bertelli and joined Prada.

A European with a fascination with American culture, Simons may have worn thin the horror movie themes and the Warhol imagery, but a lot of people will remember something from his debut show. Julia Nobis in a yellow shag fur coat covered in clear vinyl like your granny’s Davenport. The boys and girls in the western wear. The sexy fit of a tweed pantsuit and no shirt underneath. The artist Sterling Ruby’s pompoms and flags hanging from the ceiling of the West 39th Street show space. I got up from that show, as many did, feeling excited and hopeful.

On Friday, in the same space, I felt almost nothing at the conclusion of Veronica Leoni’s show — the first collection line from the brand in seven years. To me, the vibe in the vast, columned room was part corporate, with cream wall-to-wall carpet stamped with what looked like a Calvin Klein logo, and part a weirdly hollow nostalgia trip, with Calvin Klein himself, at 82, in the front row next to his former wife, Kelly Klein.

The designer, who founded the sportswear company in 1968 with Barry K. Schwartz, a childhood friend from the Bronx, hasn’t been a presence at the shows for ages. (He and Schwartz sold the brand to PVH in 2003.) So what did it mean on Friday? It’s nice to be respectful to a founder and a legend, one whose taste influenced style and advertising in the 1980s and 90s. However, in my view, Leoni and the Calvin Klein company needed to make a clean break again, as Simons did in 2017. Leave the past in the past. And instead, give us a strong sense of change.

So that was Leoni’s first error of judgment. The second was that the clothes and the aesthetic (also reflected in her choice of models) were not distinctive enough. Earlier this week, on Wednesday, I met Leoni in the company’s offices and she felt there was space in the market for another minimalist label, in part because some others lacked sophistication, as she put it. “The big mistake is to think that minimalism means commercial,” said Leoni, who lives in Rome and has worked for Celine, Jil Sander and The Row.

Actually, I doubt that any sophisticated fashion consumer thinks that. We’ve seen so many great iterations of minimalism in the last decade — in most seasons from the Olsen sisters; from Co, a label that originated in Los Angeles; from Fforme and Maria McManus, both in New York City, and Phoebe Philo since she launched her label. We also have the legacy of a designer like Lang. It was so powerful and original that no successor, certainly not Peter Do, has been able to capture it adequately.

How do you decode Calvin’s minimalism? That’s easy. It’s sexy and cool. You could even throw in a little grunge from the Kate Moss-Mario Sorrenti era — that is, unless today’s corporate culture is too wholesome for it. But, anyway, that’s what Leoni’s collection needed — a lot more sex appeal. It was generally too buttoned up, without languor. Oddly, when I visited her, she showed me an ivory slip made in a technical viscose — meaning it felt crisp. It was a lovely thing, cool. But if Leoni put the slip in the show, it must have been buried under something because I didn’t see it.

Her strong points in the collection were overcoats and trenches, and some of the suiting, notably a trim style in charcoal pinstripes set on the bias. Her ballet flats and low-heels (drawn from the archive) were a nice touch. Once people can try on the clothes and touch some of the better fabrics, like the poplin shirting and the outerwear materials, they may see a difference, but on the runway that distinctiveness wasn’t evident. Leoni may have been opting for that standard palette-cleansing opener, which is purist and rather strict. But, given the competition, that just puts you at the commercial level. And what this new collection needed at the outset was a striking difference.

THE CUT
Why is she glazing Raf and his circus of a tenure like that LOL. Leoni had no choice but to learn from the mistake of Raf's maximalist circus and go back to what CK really is at its core, which is minimalism, even if it indeed lacked the sexyness of the OG collections.
 
she felt there was space in the market for another minimalist label, in part because some others lacked sophistication, as she put it. “The big mistake is to think that minimalism means commercial,” said Leoni, who lives in Rome and has worked for Celine, Jil Sander and The Row.

like dear come on you really think we needed another minimal brand !!!!!!!!and then to say the other lacked sophistication while you barely brought anything new or above commercial ...fine you worked at Celine, Jil Sander and The Row but thats all what this collection is with a cK logo

she is pretentious and annoying already ...more CD should really not speak first 3 seasons or just give press release and zip it
 
Watered down Raf for Prada, Klein and Jil with an odd mix of Lemaire.

It’s inoffensive and a very passive collection, so it doesn’t give much of a response but that’s the gist of most collections nowadays. DESPISE those shoulders in the coats though. The pads are installed appallingly yet it looks to be intentional. I hate it.
 

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