The recent exits of Virginie Viard from Chanel and Maria Grazia Chiuri from Dior are more than just changes at the top — they highlight a troubling reality in luxury fashion: the near-erasure of women from its highest creative ranks. Their replacements, Matthieu Blazy at Chanel and Jonathan Anderson at Dior, only add to the long list of male creative directors dominating the industry. From Demna at Gucci to Michael Rider at Celine and Alessandro Michele at Valentino, the pattern is clear — and systemic.
Fashion, an industry built on selling dreams and aspirations to women, now resembles the landscape of 1995 in terms of leadership. While the industry has evolved in many ways, its gender dynamics remain strikingly unchanged. The proverbial glass ceiling hasn’t shattered — it’s been reinforced, polished, and dressed up as “creative brilliance.”
Often, the phrase “he was the most qualified candidate” is used to justify these appointments. But that logic ignores how qualifications are defined — and who gets the opportunities to earn them. Who shadows the current director? Who is seen as a “visionary”? And who gets the grace to fail and still rise?
The hiring practices in luxury fashion are recursive: men in power mentor men who eventually succeed them. Women are rarely chosen as protégés. And when they are, they’re required to prove not only their talent but also their right to belong in a space that frequently sidelines them.
This imbalance is not accidental. The few women who have led major fashion houses — like Viard, Chiuri, Chemena Kamali, Veronica Leoni, and Silvia Venturini Fendi — typically spent years embedded in the brand or working under a male predecessor before being offered the top role. In contrast, male designers are often brought in from outside with bold mandates and unlimited creative freedom.
These hires are pitched as revolutionary, bringing in “visionary” men to disrupt the status quo. But what’s really happening is a return to an old formula: give a man the reins, back him with a powerful marketing machine, and hope he delivers a hit. It’s a nostalgic throwback to the days of designer-auteurs like John Galliano, Alexander McQueen, and Karl Lagerfeld.
Yet this romanticized view often eclipses the quieter, more meaningful work of female designers. Maria Grazia Chiuri may not have delivered bombastic runway moments each season, but she built a powerhouse at Dior grounded in feminism, craftsmanship, and community. Her now-iconic “We Should All Be Feminists” T-shirt wasn’t just a slogan — it was a declaration that fashion could speak to women, not just about them.
Similarly, Virginie Viard’s tenure at Chanel was characterized by subtlety and sensitivity. Her approach moved away from the extravagant spectacles of Lagerfeld and leaned into wearable, intimate designs that resonated with real women. But subtlety, in fashion’s current climate, is often mistaken for insignificance.
There’s a pervasive and patronizing notion in fashion that designing for women is somehow less inventive than creating conceptual menswear or avant-garde unisex pieces. But designing for women — understanding their lives, aspirations, and needs — demands empathy, insight, and creativity. These qualities, however, are often undervalued in an industry that prizes spectacle over subtlety.
With men returning to leadership en masse, the industry risks narrowing its creative lens. It’s not that men can’t design for women, but they often do so through a filtered lens — fantasy, desire, nostalgia. What’s missing is lived experience. When women lead, their designs frequently empower rather than adorn; they offer tools for autonomy, not costumes for seduction.
This shift also aligns with a broader industry crisis. As luxury prices soar — Chanel has raised its prices by up to 59% since 2020 — customers are becoming disillusioned. Sales are faltering, and the value proposition feels increasingly out of touch. In such a climate, hiring men with big ideas and budgets may seem like a safer bet, even though history suggests otherwise.
Female-led eras were marked by stability and growth. Under Chiuri, Dior flourished financially and gained cultural relevance. Yet critics often dismissed her work as “safe” or “uninspired,” as if commercial success achieved by a woman is inherently less valid than creative risk-taking by a man.
This double standard runs deep. Women are expected to be reliable stewards of a brand, while men are allowed to be moody visionaries — even if their collections falter. The same rules don’t apply equally.
Some might point to Chemena Kamali at Chloé or Veronica Leoni at Calvin Klein Collection as proof that women haven’t been entirely shut out. But these are the exceptions — and they often occur at brands trying to rebuild, not at the apex of fashion power.
Women who do reach top roles frequently carry the weight of representation. Their success or failure becomes a proxy for the abilities of all women in the field. Until women can rise, stumble, experiment, and return without being treated as symbols, true equality will remain out of reach.
Industry leaders often deflect criticism by citing a lack of female candidates. “There just aren’t enough women in senior roles,” they claim. But this scarcity is self-created. Without mentorship, visibility, and real creative authority, how can female talent grow into leadership?
And the talent is there. Marine Serre, Iris van Herpen, Thebe Magugu, Nensi Dojaka — these designers have proven their creative vision and commercial potential. Yet when the most coveted jobs open up, their names are often left out. It’s not about a lack of talent — it’s about a lack of recognition and opportunity.
If fashion wants to remain relevant, it must confront its comfort with male dominance. That means reevaluating hiring practices, breaking down internal hierarchies, and investing meaningfully in female designers — from interns to creative directors. It means understanding that leadership doesn’t have to look like Karl Lagerfeld, Hedi Slimane, or Demna.
The conversation must also expand beyond gender. Where are the Black women in creative leadership? Where are the trans and non-binary designers? Where are the voices that reflect the diversity of the global market? Gender disparity is just one facet of a much broader disconnect.
Fashion can’t sell empowerment while practicing exclusion. It can’t market feminism with a T-shirt while silencing women behind the scenes. And it certainly can’t call this wave of male appointments “progress.”
True equity in fashion won’t be achieved until women — and all underrepresented creators — are given the space to lead, falter, grow, and return, just like their male counterparts. Until then, fashion will remain a man’s world, constructed on the bodies, labor, and aspirations of women.
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