Vogue Spring 2026

TWO YEARS AGO, for Halloween, I dressed up as Ms. Frizzle, the kooky science teacher beloved from the Magic School Bus books (my daughter, Alice, then two, was the bus itself, in a costume made from a Spindrift box). Ms. Frizzle is known for her crazed, curly hair, clothes that reflect the things she is interested in, and her habit of taking students on unexpected, delightful journeys (a trip into the solar system or the local water plant, for example). Wouldn’t it be amazing if Vogue led readers on similar adventures? Just weeks after my new role was announced, I watched as 16 creative directors at storied fashion houses presented their first collections. As Dior’s Jonathan Anderson tells Nathan Heller in our pages this month: “How do you find newness…

Soft Focus As the writer Alice Gregory surveyed the best in bedding for “Pillow Talk” (page 262)—a story inspired, in part, by the raft of cushions on the spring 2026 runways at Simone Rocha and Vetements—Vogue tapped the Barcelona-born, Chicago-based artist Noelia Towers (above) to paint the pillow of her dreams. She accepted the challenge with aplomb, describing the resulting picture—with its pastel palette and eerie sense of atmosphere—as “like something that I was meant to make all along.” Burning Bright For “Let There Be Lux” (page 214), Vogue contributing editor Abby Aguirre met Rosalía—whose fourth studio album, Lux, has become a runaway hit—out in Los Angeles. During a break from shooting the third season of HBO’s Euphoria, premiering in mid-April, the Spanish pop star and emerging actor spoke about…

Valentino Clemente Ludovico Garavani—known, simply and powerfully, as Valentino—was born on May 11, 1932, in Voghera, a rather quiet place lost somewhere between Milan and Genoa. But by the time he died, aged 93, on January 19, he had conquered the worlds of fashion and style, bringing a certain idea of beauty—luxurious, impactful, glamorous, immaculate, feminine—to whatever he touched. “I love beauty—it’s not my fault,” Valentino famously said with a shrug, and in fashion, he saw a way to captivate and ensnare women (his only clients when starting out, before he widened the purview of his well-dressed net). He trained in Milan, studying both French and fashion, and then, aged 17, moved to Paris, to the École des Beaux-Arts and the Chambre Syndicale de la Couture, before securing an apprenticeship…

Just before flying to Paris, for the start of several seasons of inspiration (and work), Emily Adams Bode Aujla—Emily, for short—was at home for a birthday party, in this case hers, and like all birthdays, it was a good time to take stock—of Bode, the fashion brand, not to mention the family that makes up the family business. That family has expanded and relocated, as Emily herself noted in a quick chronology of the home team’s progression from Chinatown to Greenwich Village, then to a second place in Greenwich Village in just a few years. “You have to realize,” Emily said around then, “that what also is happening at the same time as all these moves is, well, we got one dog. I got pregnant, had the baby. It was…

How do women present themselves to the world? The question has been complicated by a billion (gazillion?) tiny screens through which we beam images of ourselves to untold numbers of observers. The canniest fictional dissection of femininity and the panopticon of social media arrives this spring in Yesteryear (Knopf), a rollicking satirical debut from Caro Claire Burke. Yesteryear’s protagonist, Natalie, is a tradwife, making a living and a name for herself by broadcasting her old-timey (but—surprise!—inauthentic) life to her many followers. (She enjoys an off-screen trip to Target and finds farm life quite stressful.) Natalie’s online haters, deemed Angry Women by her, are another archetype of modern femininity: burnt-out overachievers. Natalie attempts to escape their fate by meticulously projecting a simpler life and in the process creates a new kind…

On a gray November day, Carol Bove, whose improbable works of steel upend all expectations of how the material should behave, is in the second floor office of her Brooklyn studio showing me a small-scale model of the Guggenheim Museum, where she will have a retrospective this spring. “So that’s the High Gallery,” she says. Placed inside are tiny 3D-printed versions of seven new sculptures she’s making for the show. Even at a 1:12 scale, they have an air of both delicacy and heft—contradictions that have become a Bove signature. She pivots to look out a window at the shop floor below. “And those,” she says, breaking into a grin, “are the works.” A team of studio assistants pulls the plastic sheeting off two 14-foot-tall assemblages of raw and painted…