Julien’s thirty looks encapsulated an animalistic kind of power. His models and heroes paraded down the catwalk with fearless attitudes. Embroidered silks and intricately cut skirts. Crowns carved out of marble! Each look was driven by a radically chic, outstanding archetype, and each character embodied the magnetic force of a true haute couture visionary.

This collection served as a subconscious, directly Freudian love letter to its creator’s memories. The show was rich with visual metaphors: savagely opulent bourgeois figures, decadent new-wave romantics, immortal goddesses, vampiric gazes of mass-alienating perfection, workers in denim, and savagely futuristic youth.

I stand firmly by the ideology of Julien Fournie’s extremely cutting-edge and theatrical aesthetic. He is the only couturier who has ever managed to sell nostalgia for a future that never happened. He is a genius who not only allows models to be themselves, but also empowers them — and, in turn, those lucky enough to wear his masterpieces.

Beauty is the only truth. Julien Fournie’s universe is what haute couture was always meant to be: emotional, bold, strong, subversive, ageless, magnetic, sophisticated, intricate, infinite, elegant, metaphoric, iconic. And now I find myself sitting on a black modernist couch at Julien’s Parisian headquarters. This article is my revelation — my confession of admiration for his work. He is the only and the last grand couturier society and the fashion industry are fortunate enough to have on this earth.

There is no one like him. And there certainly never will be. Never.
Remember this: nothing is impossible in his atelier. His garments are a literal, metaphysical antidote to reality. Viva la chic! Viva le haute couture! Viva la modernité! Viva la beauté! Julien Fournie’s mind is a cosmic paradigm, giving birth to countless other thrilling innovations and intricately embroidered treasures. “First Misfits” was a religious experience.