For years, I’ve been watching Australian Fashion Week from the sidelines – my Instagram and TikTok feeds lighting up every May with Camilla & Marc’s ankle-length coats, tiny Miu Miu sunglasses, and perfectly posed influencers against Carriageworks’ iconic brick walls. And while I’d loved being a digital spectator, I had a severe case of FOMO and knew 2025 was the year to cure it.
People were serving looks at 9am on a Tuesday. We’re talking full glam, head-to-toe styling, no detail spared. But surprisingly, there was a sense of ease in the air too. No one flinched if you wore loafers instead of heels or favoured a knit over sequins. In fact, comfort and confidence felt like the unofficial dress code.
I’d braced myself for a week of bold colour, glitz, and unapologetic fashion flexing – but deep down, I was hoping for the tailored, tonal magic I live for. And it showed up in full force. Creamy layers, structured blazers, fluid trousers, and rich textures – understated but impossibly chic. This was my fashion language, and exactly what I came to see.
Carla Zampatti was the perfect opener – a show that felt like a love letter to her legacy. It didn’t try to reinvent anything, and I liked that. It leaned into everything Carla is known for: strong lines, feminine shapes, and luxe, wearable glamour. Sixty looks, no fillers. With the Opera House in the background and influencers shoulder to shoulder with MAFS alumni, it was pure Aussie fashion theatre. My only complaint? I wanted to try on half the runway.
The Frontier offered a different kind of fashion high – one that felt fresh, collaborative, and forward-thinking. It was the cool girl in the corner with great taste and zero need to shout about it. I loved the sheer, barely-there layers, the quiet tailoring, and the slightly surreal runway draped in loose fabric (gorgeous to look at, mildly terrifying to walk on). ESSE’s coats now have me in a chokehold, and Paris Georgia continues to prove she understands modern femininity like few others.
Beare Park closed the loop with undone elegance turned all the way up. It was pared back but far from boring. No makeup (literally), slinky textures, and a chartreuse moment that completely stole the show. It proved that sometimes the simplest black dress can feel like the biggest statement. It made me rethink what ‘occasionwear’ even means. Maybe it’s not sequins and heels – it’s a really good dress, clean skin, and impeccable tailoring. Takeaway: do less, but better.
Of course, not everything quite hit the mark. Some shows felt more about spectacle than substance. But what stayed with me most was the atmosphere – I arrived unsure of what to expect but left with a phone full of notes, photos, and a quiet confidence. My first Australian Fashion Week reminded me that fashion isn’t always about being loud – it’s about being true to yourself, in whatever way that shows up.
Words: Sophie de Renzy
Runway imagery: Launchmetrics/Spotlight.
