Blame Jools Lebron. The social media influencer hijacked the public imagination last summer with her viral phrase “very demure,” a tongue-in-cheek call for restraint and decorum. Soon celebrities such as Reese Witherspoon and Jenna Ortega, to say nothing of Lebron’s millions of regular followers, were quoting her in jest. But if proof was needed that Lebron was on to something and that the culture was serious about entering a new era of ultrafeminine diffidence, it came with Alessandro Michele’s much anticipated debut runway collection for Valentino in September.
The designer’s first outing was as ladylike as a bashful debutante, but even among the refined dresses and pantsuits, it was the bow-topped pumps, resting on modest 45-millimeter heels, that seemed to embody the fashion moment best. They were reminiscent of a bygone era when the world’s most photographable women—Elizabeth Taylor and Jacqueline Kennedy among them—danced through society with dainty, if knowing, aplomb. “Val’s gals,” as Valentino’s coterie of chic clients came to be known, emerged in the 1960s. It may have been a time of unrest, but they were not turning out for the revolution without putting their best foot forward.
The Bowow pump as seen at Alessandro Michele’s debut show for Valentino.
Stephane Cardinale – Corbis/Corbis Entertainment/Getty Images
After his debut, Michele referred to philosophers and intellectuals such as Michel de Montaigne, Théophile Gautier, and Martin Heidegger to explain how beauty serves its own purpose, with no concessions needed. But in presenting his declaration of intent, the designer was also nodding to the label’s legendary founder, Valentino Garavani. For one, the Bowow pumps—such as the polka dot model pictured here—revisit styles introduced in one of the house’s most storied shows, the 1968 “Sfilata Bianca,” an all-white affair that catapulted Valentino to international fame.
Jacqueline Kennedy, who was said to be the inspiration for the austere presentation, wore one of the immaculate gowns from that collection when she married Aristotle Onassis later that year in Skorpios, Greece. “I owe so much to Jacqueline Kennedy,” Valentino told a reporter. “She made me famous.” So, too, did -fashion darlings like Marisa Berenson, who was photographed at Cy Twombly’s Roman palazzo in a more casual day look. The “White Collection” was also Valentino’s first time using his -monogram—a graphic device that became shorthand for his exacting brand of Euro elegance. It’s no coincidence that the new Bowow features a “VLogo” plaque in antique brass on the heel.
Though Valentino has always claimed to march to the beat of his own drum, his idea for monochromatic offerings did not exist in a vacuum. In the same decade, the artist Robert Ryman was experimenting with all-white paintings, and the architect Marcel Breuer inaugurated his “noncolor” Whitney Museum building. Michele’s appointment at Valentino also coincides with a moment of great upheaval and uncertainty in fashion and beyond, reminiscent of what was happening in the ’60s. But in presenting a polished and well-mannered vision for the label, Michele is in step with its founder. “I know what women want,” Valentino was given to saying. “They want to be beautiful.” Heidegger—or Jools Lebron—could not have put it better.
Lead image clockwise from top left: Horst P. Horst, Vogue, © Condé Nast; Jack Nisberg/Condé Nast via Getty Images; Jimi Billingsley, © Calder Foundation, New York, © 2025 Calder Foundation, New York/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York; Henry Clarke/Condé Nast via Getty Images; Courtesy of Valentino.
