New York Fashion Week has always meant something to me; it’s the what that’s changed over the years.

At 17, it was aspiration. A desire to be let in, no matter the how; photographing, assisting, whatever. I didn’t care. I just wanted to be there. Be a part of it. Peek inside.

At 21, I started to go. Not to every show, but to enough of the showcases and popups and after parties to feel included. Having spent enough time out and about in the city, accidentally going to the right parties and rubbing shoulders with the cool crowd (hoping they would share a modicum of their aura by osmosis), I got a taste of what it felt like to be in; wearing my most eccentric Bowie-esque outfits in rooms catered by Dom Perignon and Petrossian. I felt like an imposter, but I was too excited to dwell on that for longer than the first song.

By 23, I was a writer. I was invited for work. I had to go to know what was about to transpire in the world of couture. To track the beauty looks and the hair trends and then somehow apply them to athleisure? It never got old. The posture that you’re only ever motivated to maintain from the front row. The drama, the dresses, the Devil Wears Prada of it all. I basked in it, being ushered backstage and to seats in the front row.

The season after the pandemic-hiatus I went to London and New York. I missed the glitz and the glamor and the 22 nights in a row of blisters, bubbles, and back rooms, but I was older now. Tired, having just left the world of editorial to found a startup. I still loved it with every bone in my body, but those bones just couldn’t handle stilettos and small talk the way they used to. Fashion week was changing, but so was I.

Now I watch from the sidelines. I go to an event or two because there is nothing I love more than playing dress up, but mostly I just watch the runway recaps and swipe through the Instagram summaries the next morning. I wear my best outfits to walk my dog and aperitivo outside just to prove to the Gen Z influencer olympics happening on every street corner that I’ve still got it. I love fashion week in a different font now.

All of that to say, that this month’s fashion week got me thinking about my new connection to the month, and that lives in the ever-strengthening connection between fashion and food.

The bond goes deeper than the classic sardine t-shirt epidemic, croissant earrings, lemon merch, and legendary Loewe tomato clutch.

• Kith has an ice cream brand

• Jacquemus' SoHo hosts breakfast service

• Balbosté's immersive culinary installations transform luxury brand presentations into multi-sensory experiences that blur the boundaries between haute couture and haute cuisine

• Gohar World merges fashion culture and interior design

• And Alimentari Flaneur creates sensual, maximalist, almost hedonistic tablescapes for brands from Phlur and Mac Cosmetics to Alex Mill and Staud

• Saint Laurent hosted the most regal dinner in Venice just last week

This convergence represents the emergence of a new cultural economy where food operates as both artistic medium and social capital. It also reflects deeper shifts in how younger generations approach luxury, status, and identity formation. Where the act of consumption becomes a form of performance and where luxury brands have discovered that the path to contemporary relevance requires more than clean lines and artfully curated accessories. While previous decades saw fashion and food maintain distinct spheres of influence, their current fusion reveals changing attitudes toward ownership, experience, and what constitutes authentic luxury in an era of economic uncertainty and cultural transformation. Brands need to cultivate a grander experience that plays on a combination of senses and push the boundaries that we’re once enough to merely meet.

The Rise of Culinary Collaboration

Fashion's engagement with food culture has evolved beyond simple restaurant partnerships into sophisticated artistic collaborations. A new category of creative professionals has emerged who specialize in translating brand aesthetics into edible experiences.

Artists like Laila Gohar represent this intersection, working across art, fashion, and food through partnerships with renowned museums as well as luxury brands, including Simone Rocha, Prada, Comme des Garçons, and Hermès. According to AnotherMag, Gohar has stated that her focus isn't primarily culinary but rather about creating environments where "people can be uninhibited, to feel more like children, to break the ice." This approach positions food as a social catalyst rather than the primary attraction.

Similarly, studios specializing in experiential gastronomy like Balbosté, have developed relationships with luxury brands (Loewe, Hermès, Louis Vuitton, Miu Miu, Chloé, and Dior) to create memorable consumer touchpoints. These collaborations often involve multidisciplinary teams including visual artists, floral storytellers, designers, and marketing specialists who work to translate brand identity across sensory experiences.

The appeal for fashion brands lies in addressing shifting consumer preferences as well as in practical marketing strategy. Sydney Stanback, head of global trends and insights at Pinterest, noted that "Gen Z is craving sensory-based experiences — it's not just about how something looks, but also how it tastes and feels." Food-centered content performs well across social media platforms, generating organic reach and engagement that traditional fashion content often struggles to achieve.

The financial implications of this cultural shift are major. Todays economic reality has fundamentally altered luxury consumption patterns. According to a report from McKinsey, Gen Z's spending money at the grocery store has become a way to splurge at a time when many people are tightening their belts (see: this whole dissertation on the tinned fish renaissance).

It’s a whole new "lipstick effect" for the post-pandemic era where small indulgences provide psychological relief during periods of broader financial constraint. So while the majority of the population may not be able to “Euro summer” or buy the designer bag of their dreams, the purchase of an Anya Hindmarch collab ice cream or a Italian-themed purse, beaded with tomatoes and pasta shapes, is a more accessible way to treat oneself to the cultural experience.

The Hype Economy & The Influencer Industrial Complex

The application of streetwear marketing strategies to culinary products is something that shocked me. Why would you take lessons learned from selling a baseball cap and apply them to niche cereal?

It’s been working though. Bakeries like L'Appartement 4F in New York or Forno in London are leveraging the drop-style business model popularised by brands like Supreme to create buzz-worthy offerings that entice customers to line up for hours in the hopes of snagging one of their sought-after pastries.

The Future Laboratory's latest Food and Drink Futures report expanded on this stating that "Food lore is a social currency. Niche communities are propelling local products and places to cult status and cultivating food subcultures where the barrier to entry is not finance, but knowledge.”

The rise of fashion-food influencers represents perhaps the most visible manifestation of this cultural convergence.

Nara Smith seamlessly blends luxury fashion with culinary performance, creating everything from cough drops to spaghetti hoops entirely from scratch while wearing haute couture.

Her virality even brought on a collaboration with Ferragamo to create a homemade panna cotta while wearing a dress from their Fall/Winter 24 collection. These collaborations succeed because they understand that contemporary luxury positioning requires cultural relevance beyond traditional advertising formats.

Redefining Community Around Fashion & Food

From Surrealist Soirées (I hosted one last year!) to Mamma Mia themed dinner parties, aesthetic movements that embrace imperfection and playfulness over traditional refinement are on the rise. These are experiences that naturally combine food and fashion through costumes, decor, and design elements. Pinterest found that searches for "surrealist tablescapes" are up 55% in the last year, as well as the "Salvador Dali aesthetic" (+40%) and "cake bouquet flowers" (+30%).

The convergence of food and fashion reflects broader cultural negotiations around value, authenticity, joy, and community over status in late capitalism, but that people gravitate towards the beautiful - no matter the medium - and that will never change.

Understanding this intersection requires recognizing both its creative potential and its economic constraints. The most successful brands will be those that engage authentically with food culture rather than simply appropriating its aesthetics, and that understand the responsibility that comes with commodifying sustenance and community.

As Fashion Week continues to evolve beyond traditional runway presentations toward immersive lifestyle experiences, the integration of culinary culture will likely deepen rather than diminish. The challenge for both creators and consumers lies in maintaining critical awareness of these systems while still finding space for pleasure, creativity, and genuine human connection through the fundamental act of sharing food.

The appetite for these experiences reveals deep cultural hungers that extend far beyond mere consumption; hungers for community, authenticity, and meaning in an increasingly fragmented world. How we choose to feed those hungers will shape both fashion and food culture for years to come!