Kicking off New York Fashion Week, Marc Jacobs delivered a collection that turned volume, proportion, and fantasy into an exercise of exaggeration
Welcome to the dollhouse, where proportions swell, bows bloom to operatic proportions, and shoes teeter between fantasy and defiance. Marc Jacobs has never been one for restraint, but this season, he abandons the very notion of it. The collection, titled Courage, doesn’t seek approval—it marches forward, frills flaring, skirts ballooning, shoulders rising like renovated mall buildings. This is without practicality and all the fun of dress-up, a wardrobe for those who have no interest in playing it safe.
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It’s as if Barbie has come to life—not via live-action, but in a way that is entirely personal and unfiltered, shaped by the hands that hold her. Dolls have always been projections, vessels for our own narratives, whether they reflect our biases or offer an escape from them. A child dresses their doll not with the logic of reality but with the boundless possibilities of imagination. Here, Jacobs taps into that same spirit, letting the clothes tell stories that shift with the wearer. Sorry, Margot Robbie, but this isn’t about a singular, cinematic Barbie—this is about a thousand different versions, each dictated by whoever dares to play.
The designer has always understood that clothing is a language, and this season, his vocabulary is one of grandeur. Bubble skirts move with the extravagance of ballroom curtains, sleeves extend past the idea of reason, and bows threaten to consume the wearer entirely. They perch atop shoulders, cinch waists, and erupt from bodices, as if the very fabric had a mind of its own. The garments stretch and swell, creating silhouettes that reshape the body into something altogether different—something theatrical, something impossible to ignore.
The accessories take this philosophy to its outermost edge. Footwear is a high-wire act—platforms that laugh in the face of balance, their scale both mesmerizing and absurd. Makeup artist Pat McGrath contributes her own flourish, placing stick-on beauty marks and shimmering mouth dots on the models, recalling the powdered visages of 18th-century courtiers or the artificial perfection of porcelain dolls. It’s artifice worn proudly, a constructed beauty that refuses to pretend otherwise.
If fashion is a playground, then Jacobs is swinging highest, diving headfirst into a level of camp that few American designers dare to touch. There’s a theatricality here that recalls Moschino at its most decadent—clothes that wink at their own excess, that revel in their own absurdity. But while Moschino often treats camp as satire, Jacobs approaches it with sincerity. His vision is outsized but never ironic, extravagant yet sincere. Could he be the American answer to Moschino? Or is he something else entirely—less a counterpart, more a singular force, proving that camp can be as heartfelt as it is outrageous?
Jacobs knows that fashion is as much about attitude as it is about cloth. The models moved through the space not with the distant, vacant stares of mannequins but with the lively, self-possessed energy of those who know they are wearing something extraordinary. To enter a room in these clothes is to claim it. To wear them is to demand attention, to revel in exaggeration, to treat excess as an art form rather than an indulgence.
“Guided by heart, humility, and gratitude,” Jacobs wrote, “I have come to understand that fear is not my enemy—it is a necessary companion to creativity, authenticity, integrity, and life.” He is right. Fear has no place here, nor does hesitation. This is not a collection for those who shrink themselves. It is for those who step forward—skirts billowing, bows unfurling—with courage.
Photos: MARC JACOBS
