Is Rick Owens the Yves Saint Laurent of the 21st Century?
Like Yves Saint Laurent, Rick Owens still innovates and experiments, but often his collections focus on building his world rather than conquering new territories, writes Alexander Fury
March 07, 2025
Photography - Paul Phung
Text - Alexander Fury
Rick Owens has a vocabulary all his own. I don’t mean a design vocabulary – although he has that, obviously, a distinct and deep identity that stands as one of the most potent and unique in fashion today. But I mean the actual words he uses to describe said clothes, which are so strange and extraordinary they amount to a different language.
A Rick Owens coat, for instance, may be ‘Dracucollared’ – meaning a high-rise neckline that obviously connects to our archetypical view of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. His high-popped shoulders, with a sense of history and ceremony, are ‘Tec’ – derived from Tecuatl, his Mexican maternal grandmother’s maiden name. A ruffled wrap spanning the shoulders may be called a ‘Megafrothy Donut’ (Owens always has a sense of humour). And ‘Megacrust’ is his name for layers of bronze and wax pressed onto denim, to make the surface resemble crumbling antiqued metal. They recur again and again, evolving and shifting each season, a consistent vernacular that ebbs and flows each season, but never deviates from its truth.
Owens isn’t obsessed with novelty – in a way, he reminds you of Yves Saint Laurent, who once stated, “I am no longer concerned with sensation and innovation, but with the perfection of my style.” Owens still innovates and experiments, but often his collections focus on building his world rather than conquering new territories. It’s a sign of maturity and focus, and also iterates the strength of that distinct, unmistakable aesthetic.
Is Rick Owens the Yves Saint Laurent of the 21st century? That question isn’t as deranged as it may first read. Certainly, he’s shifted the way people dress – his washed-up, beaten-down leather jackets have become a uniform across the globe, cited in the aesthetics of multiple other brands whether they acknowledge it or not.
Maybe this time around Owens was feeling extra nostalgic – for this Autumn/Winter collection, he even used the soundtrack he first debuted in fashion with, 23 years ago. And he quoted himself literally – in January, his menswear was inspired, he said, by 22 years of travelling for work rather than pleasure. His womenswear always riffs on those menswear origins, and borrows the same title – this time, Owens just copy-pasted the opening few paragraphs of his collection notes to introduce this one. Hey, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.
The sentiment was shared, as were many of the looks, like the frills of rubber that wound up resembling some fantastical sea creature sucking the life out of the body of the wearer. Those clambered up Owens’ perspex-heeled boots, and even tufted out the back of chopped-up leather chaps, like a hairy posterior. One thing that didn’t reappear were Owens’ Rimowa collab suitcases. Six weeks after that menswear show, they’re already all sold out.
If we’re talking Saint Laurent, this collection even ended with a couple of dead-ringers for wedding dresses, the traditional closer of any couture show. One was in white sequins, another in filmy nylon. The draped nape of that resembled – to me, at least – the Balenciaga satin peignoir Mona von Bismarck wore for a Cecil Beaton portrait sitting in 1955 (honestly, when you see the picture, you’ll know what I’m talking about – it’s not that obscure, really). Except Owens’ train trailed behind in the muck. Yves Saint Laurent, Balenciaga. Owens is up there with those greats. What a great thing to see.
