I'm a French Writer and Editor—the 14 Pieces Already Making Me Look Forward to Winter 2026
Eugénie Trochu is a Who What Wear editor in residence known for her transformative work at Vogue France and her Substack newsletter, where she documents and shares new trends, her no-nonsense approach to fashion and style, plus other musings. She's also working on her upcoming first book that explores fashion as a space of memory, projection, and reinvention.
I’ve noticed something lately: The harder I try to be “well-dressed,” the more bored I get. Too much coherence, too many good intentions, too many silhouettes trying to prove a point. As if every outfit had to justify its own existence. Winter 2026 arrives precisely at the point of that fatigue. Not as a rupture, but rather as a slightly insolent, almost lazy response.
One morning, you look at yourself in the mirror and simply think: I want to feel good but not well-behaved. And everything starts there.
There are no heroic pieces in this story. No obvious statements. Just an accumulation of quiet choices that eventually shape an allure. You get dressed quickly, sometimes almost badly, and yet it works. Clothes that look simple, almost ordinary, but are never entirely innocent. A detail at the back, a slightly off-kilter cut, a fabric catching the light when it shouldn’t. Nothing demonstrative. Just enough to unsettle.
This wardrobe has digested quite a lot: the late '90s, comfort turned nonnegotiable, image saturation, trend overload. What comes out of it is something drier, more adult. We’re no longer trying to be cool, even less to be desirable. We’re trying to be right.
There’s plenty of softness, yes—but never anything limp. Reassuring materials, familiar volumes. A gray cardigan you throw on without thinking, a perfectly proper white shirt that behaves just a little too well—until one detail shifts everything. Low-rise jeans make a return too, slightly deconstructed, carrying a faint late-'90s echo without any forced nostalgia. They suggest a moderate, grown-up risk, fully assumed. Paired with a draped black top—because, let’s be honest, draping remains the most elegant weapon when you’re no longer quite sure what to think about the world.
And then, suddenly, a snag. A heel too sculptural to be entirely honest. The kind of shoe that gently sabotages an overly reasonable silhouette. It states very clearly: Yes, I could be sensible, but no. The shearling Teckel bag plays the same role. Iconic, yes, but alive. A bag you touch, drag around, aren’t afraid to damage. Luxury becomes instantly more attractive when it isn’t fragile.
There are also those almost absurd, almost naïve objects that somehow make everything smarter. A translucent white Swatch watch, for instance. In a world saturated with outward signs of wealth, wearing something that proves nothing becomes almost subversive. It’s fresh, simple, exactly right. Same logic applies to these Corduroy bracelets: half jewelry, half toy, never too serious.
Even glamour becomes functional. The coat refuses discussion. Short, leopard-print faux fur. Not to provoke, not to “do fashion,” but to be effective. To stay warm. To move forward. To go out. It doesn’t apologize. It belongs to the landscape now, just like that knitted balaclava that felt incongruous a few seasons ago and suddenly makes perfect sense.
When the cold really sets in snow included, now almost banal, silhouettes toughen slightly. Timberland boots come back in a lighter, softer, less worksite-driven version. High-top Adidas sneakers, straight out of boxing rings, also slip into this deceptively calm wardrobe. A physical, almost brutal reminder that the body still exists beneath layers of wool and style.
Sunglasses grow enormous, almost too much. With jewel-like arms slipping behind the ear, they create a delicious trompe-l’œil: Is it an accessory, a piece of jewelry, a deliberate gesture? You’re not quite sure, and that’s exactly the point.
Ultimately, winter 2026 isn’t trying to impress. It’s trying to last. To slide into everyday life, to become a habit, almost a reflex. Clothes you wear without thinking but that end up saying a great deal. Not too loudly. Just enough to remain interesting.
