Let’s start with feet because, thanks to house of Yves Saint Laurent, there is now no avoiding them.
At a recent London film event, Alexander Skarsgård stepped onto the red carpet for a screening of his new film Wicker in a metallic gold Saint Laurent suit, no shirt, and a pair of completely transparent lace-up Oxfords. Clear PVC, black sole, black laces, and all 10 toes pressed against the plastic like a child’s face on a candy store window.
I have spent a long time around shoes. And I can say with some authority that these are hideous. They come from the YSL Spring 2027 men’s collection and – this is the bit I love – they’ve been named the O.Fan. Yes, after OnlyFans. The label’s shoe designer says the idea grew out of a joke about why men are so scared to show their feet. Having seen a great many men’s feet, I’d suggest the fear isn’t entirely misplaced.
The online reaction went straight to the practical questions. Comfort. Sweat. Condensation. It’s a shoe that is essentially cos-playing a greenhouse or a terrarium.
Skarsgård, to be fair, is in on the joke. He has been treating red carpets as performance art for a while now – thigh-high leather boots at Cannes, studded flip-flops in the Utah snow at the Sundance Film Festival. He commits, he’s good-humoured, and he could wear a hessian sack and still look like a Viking on vacay.
You see, fashion will never say out loud that these pieces aren’t designed to be worn. They’re not even really designed to be sold. They’re designed to be photographed, screenshot, sent to the group chat with three crying-laughing emojis and written about. Ironically, by the likes of me.
That’s the business model. A pair of see-through shoes costs a luxury house a few metres of plastic and one well-placed celebrity. In return, the brand name gets global coverage, millions of impressions and its name in every fashion feed on the planet for a week. Manufacture outrage? Love it, hate it, mock it, you’ve still said the name.
If the clear Oxfords were a one-off, I’d let it go. But it’s a pattern, and it has been building for years. Margaret Qualley wore Chanel’s new “barefoot” heel to a London premiere. It is a heel. Just the heel – a little capped block tied on with a few ribbons, while the rest of the foot was bare on the red carpet. It’s like Chanel tried to reinvent the thong, just minus the useful bit.
Then there was this recent Paris Fashion Week treat, where Antwerp-born designer Julie Kegels sent out a model in nude tights that had simply given up. Gold lace jacket, mint top, matching mint heels, all very pretty but from the waist down, a pair of hose sagging at the crotch as if they’d been pulled on in the dark and in a hurry.
Online, the verdict came fast: ridiculous. I’ve spent years trying to stop my tights doing exactly that – turns out I was ahead of the trend curve.
Meanwhile, Balenciaga has made something of an art form of clickbait couture. A few years ago it sent out what looked like a black garbage bag – in leather, with a drawstring – for about $US1800 ($2580). I have a roll of them under the sink for considerably less.
Then came the towel skirt: a bath towel, wrapped around the waist, for close to $US1000. I’ve been sporting that look for decades and nobody has offered me a cent.
JW Anderson gave us a clutch shaped like a pigeon. Not a stylised, elegant bird but a pigeon, the kind that hangs around eyeing your sandwich. Prada sold a silver money clip shaped like an ordinary office paperclip for a couple of hundred US dollars (which at least still holds paper) while cartoonish big red boots from the art collective MSCHF looked as if they’d been borrowed from Astro Boy.
Every one of these followed the same script. Strange, overpriced object appears. Internet melts down. Brand name trends. So, good on them? Honestly, yes. Luxury fashion is in a tricky spot. Sales have slowed, prices have gone through the roof and the customer is tired. If a few metres of PVC can get a fashion house talked about at a time when we’re all scrolling past everything, that’s clever marketing. I’ve worked in media long enough to admire a stunt that lands.
But let’s not pretend it’s design. It’s a press release with laces. The real money is still in the perfume, the lipstick, the sunglasses and the handbag that you and I may save up for.
The clear shoe exists to make sure we remember the name when I’m standing at the Heinemann duty-free counter. That’s the trick, and it works. Until then. Good on you, YSL. Great stunt. Hideous shoe.
Meanwhile – and a bit closer to home – the Woolworths roast chicken “Bachelor’s Handbag” handbag is only going to be $10 when it lands on the shelves this week. It’s silly, but much more in my price range.
Melissa Hoyer is a pop culture commentator and writer.
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