They filed out like they had nothing to prove and everything to remember. No fanfare. No gimmicks. Just presence. And that’s what struck me first—how quiet it all was, and yet how loud the message landed. At Palais de Tokyo, C.R.E.O.L.E’s Autumn/Winter 2025 show didn’t scream. It didn’t have to.

Vincent Frédéric Colombo didn’t offer a fashion show. He delivered a reckoning. “Windrush – One Way Ticket” didn’t rely on nostalgia or romanticism. It pressed into the past like a thumbprint and came back with shape, scent and context. I didn’t just see looks. I saw letters never mailed. I saw brown hands gripping train tickets. I saw a generation forced to build someone else’s future with no blueprint of their own.

This collection isn’t interested in your compliments. It’s not here for applause or Pinterest boards. It’s here to remind you that workwear has ancestors. That tailoring has a colonial shadow. That a plaid coat can carry more weight than a manifesto. And as a villain—yes, I admit it—I am drawn to clothing that unsettles before it flatters.

So no, I won’t call it beautiful. I’ll call it necessary. Now let’s begin.

Plaid Coup

Uniform meets upheaval

He walked out like he knew secrets about my grandfather. And maybe he did. This is the kind of outfit that remembers. The kind that steps into a room already armed with context.

C.R.E.O.L.E’s “Windrush – One Way Ticket” Autumn/Winter 2025 collection showed at Palais de Tokyo like it was claiming space no one expected it to. And this look? It stopped me cold.

Let’s talk about the cloak: it doesn’t drape, it declares. The checkered wool wraps the torso like a protective mantra, part monk, part militant. It flirts with British suiting but won’t conform to its rules. Underneath, a chocolate brown shirt buttoned to the throat says, “I am not here for your comfort.” I like that. A lot. The flap pockets land with military precision, breaking the earth-toned calm with just a flicker of utilitarian friction.

And the shorts. Oh, the shorts. They hover just past the knee, the way school uniforms do, but without submission. They’re boxy, cropped, and bold—like a boy who got off the Empire Windrush and decided to rewrite the syllabus. The plaid repeats here, less like a pattern and more like a history lesson.

The whole look feels like a remix of Caribbean pride and British decay. Think Grace Wales Bonner’s cerebral tailoring meets the attitude of Basquiat painting in Notting Hill. Add a dash of Kendrick Lamar’s Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers and stir.

The black shoes with orange laces are clever punctuation. They remind me of warning signs in the London Underground. Functional, graphic and slightly alarming. I’d keep them, but I’d swap the socks for sheer black ones with a back seam. A nod to the femmes. Maybe even a sharp ankle boot for height. But honestly? I like how it’s styled already. It’s real.

If I were wearing it? I’d belt the cloak, just barely. Maybe throw on a chunky pearl necklace, because I like the friction of softness with structure. I’d wear it to a press preview where people pretend to understand post-colonial theory. I’d say nothing and sip espresso with disdain.

This outfit doesn’t need validation. It already knows who it is. It doesn’t yell. It resists.

Plaid Rebellion

Soft armor

The first thing I thought when he turned the corner? He’s dressed like he’s ready to negotiate peace, then sabotage the treaty. And I mean that as a compliment.

This look from C.R.E.O.L.E’s Autumn/Winter 2025 collection has a quiet mischief. It plays by the rules of tailoring, but only just. The jacket is cut like a schoolboy blazer but with the energy of someone who burned their textbooks long ago. It’s all buttoned control on the surface, with wild undercurrents. Check the floral scarf tied into devil horns. Not subtle. Perfect.

The fabric speaks in plaid, but the color palette mutes the noise. These are ashes and bark, the hues of memory. The black piping edges the seams like a warning label. It’s sleepwear if sleep was political. And the pants? Wide, stubborn and beautifully unbothered. They fall heavy like they know where they’ve been.

The entire thing feels like a conversation between Kingston and East London, somewhere between Jean-Michel Basquiat’s boldness and a post-Brexit stare-down. And yet somehow, it feels wearable. I like how it’s styled already. It’s confident without trying too hard. The beige crepe-soled shoes are a cool nod to British streetwear without looking like they were lifted from someone else’s past.

Now, how would I wear it? Swap the scarf for a twisted velvet choker. Add a sheer black turtleneck under the blazer, something that hints but doesn’t spill. I’d also throw on an oversized ring, something with malachite, for drama. Then walk into a room like I own the deed to the land.

This isn’t fashion for approval. It’s fashion as memory, worn like soft armor.

Pocket Philosopher

Wit in wool

He looks like he reads Frantz Fanon at bus stops. And that’s exactly the energy I want from an outfit in 2025.

This look from C.R.E.O.L.E’s Autumn/Winter 2025 collection walks like it has a quiet thesis. Nothing is loud. Nothing needs to be. The moss-toned overcoat, with its slightly wilted collar and soft, draped fit, feels like something passed down by a father who once marched in a protest but now teaches Sunday school. I adore it.

Beneath that, a pale, slightly wrinkled shirt peeks out like it just came out of someone’s overnight bag. It’s part deliberate, part “I had bigger things to think about.” The asymmetry in the buttoning feels like a decision made mid-walk. And it works.

The trousers? Monumental. Wide-legged denim with volume that drags history behind it. But look closely. The hem is trimmed with a stripe in red, yellow and green. A quiet flash of Jamaican soul. This is not styling for show. It’s for someone who knows what’s stitched into the lining.

And the scarf? Tied close to the throat, printed with what looks like muted florals, it’s part neck armor, part ode to a grandmother’s perfume. He’s not trying to be fashionable. He’s trying to be remembered.

I like how it’s styled already. That matters. There’s no posturing here. Just posture.

If it were mine, I’d pair it with a small, structured handbag. Maybe oxblood leather. I’d leave the shirt unbuttoned entirely and wear a skin-tight tank beneath. Show softness where he showed structure.

This is the outfit you wear to disagree with the room. Not to argue, just to be right.

Second Skin

Louder whispers

This is what you wear when you want to be perceived but not approached.

C.R.E.O.L.E’s Autumn/Winter 2025 sheer set is less an outfit and more a provocation. The mesh shirt and boxer-brief ensemble clings like a secret. Covered in repeating horse motifs, it reads like a private diary printed on your body. You either get it or you don’t. And that’s the point.

I like how it’s styled. The white socks and black shoes? Very “athletic boy who wandered into the wrong salon and stayed for the wine.” I’d keep that energy. But me? I’d layer it under a wool trench so long it nearly brushes the floor. Just enough mystery. Or maybe a kilt in army green, pleated, belted, cinched. A contradiction wrapped in confidence.

There’s a late-night energy to this look. It’s after-hours in a Brixton nightclub, where the music is dub, the walls sweat and no one asks your name. The tightness is unapologetic. The transparency is intimate. It doesn’t scream masculinity. It hisses.

You could also argue it’s giving vintage Gaultier if he studied Caribbean colonial history instead of Parisian decadence. The monogram waistband grounds the look in something recognizably modern, almost commercial, but still subversive. Think Calvin Klein if Calvin had a little more gossip and a lot more rage.

This outfit makes no promises. It walks past you like it knows your browser history. And yes, I would wear it. Just not for you.

Power Quiet

Soft-spoken steel

He walked out looking like he’d just dismantled a regime and didn’t bother to button his shirt after. This is the kind of outfit that doesn’t demand the room. It drains it.

The C.R.E.O.L.E’s Autumn/Winter 2025 show gave us another lesson in calculated disobedience with this look: a broad-shouldered black jacket, lightly color-blocked with charcoal, worn over olive trousers that drag with intent. It’s the kind of silhouette you’d expect from a revolutionary on house arrest. Neat but unbothered.

I like how it’s styled. Absolutely. The blazer hangs just loose enough to suggest he’s hiding something. And no, I don’t need to know what. The flash of a fishnet layer beneath? It’s not seductive. It’s strategic. Like a trapdoor left open in case he needs to disappear mid-sentence.

The pants are wide, nearly aggressive in volume, yet softened by their worn texture. They’re cuffed messily, in the best way. No crease. No performative tailoring. Just purpose. The boots are stompy enough to start a conversation. Or end one.

I’d wear it exactly as is, then add a narrow gold chain tucked just under the collarbone. Maybe a velvet clutch with a single pressed flower pinned to it. Why? Because softness should travel with muscle.

This look doesn’t flirt. It listens, it learns, then it acts. It’s not for applause. It’s for aftermath.

Credits

Styling : EDEM DOUSSOU

Casting : STÉPHANE GABOUÉ

Photography : USSI’N YALA