In Milan or Paris, Fashion Week shows attract as much attention for their guests as for their clothes. When billionaire Mark Zuckerberg appears arm-in-arm with his wife Priscilla Chan, or when Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sanchez capture the flashes of the front row, they symbolize a fashion increasingly drawn to the ultra-rich, and perhaps increasingly distant from the rest of its audience.

Is fashion too expensive?

At the heart of Fashion Week, there’s a moment when you stop looking at the clothes and start observing the room. Photographers bustle about, flashes pop, conversations break up. A pause that often reveals a great deal about how fashion is experienced and told.

This was the case at the Prada show in Milan last February, when Priscilla Chan appeared on the arm of her husband, Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg (rumor has it that Meta is collaborating with Prada on smart glasses), wrapped in a shearling coat worth over €11,000. Not that the presence of billionaires at fashion shows is anything new—although we were more accustomed to seeing journalists and buyers there—but on that day, their presence suddenly seemed to embody the true audience of the spectacle.

Fashion has never been so visible. Broadcast live, commented on in real time, dissected on TikTok and Instagram, it now occupies a cultural space comparable to that of pop culture. Yet, it has never seemed so distant, as if shouting “BUY ME” to 1% of the population.

In terms of price, some items have crossed a real psychological threshold . At Chanel, for example, the price of the classic bag has almost doubled in just a few years. At Louis Vuitton, the famous Speedy bag has jumped by 14%, and the Neverfull tote by 21%, reaching €1,550. In Versace’s windows, a metallic mesh dress tops out at €12,000.

For many, this floor is now unattainable. The paradox is all the more striking given that the luxury market relies heavily on an aspirational clientele . Unlike Very Important Clients, these consumers calculate, compare, wait, and… are responsible for more than half of global luxury spending, far removed from the clichés of the billionaire collector.

But this foundation is faltering: some consumers are reducing their purchases, postponing spending, turning to secondhand goods, or to sectors deemed more essential, such as health or well-being. The aspiration, the historical driving force of luxury, is now transforming into frustration. Is fashion too expensive?

Fashion shows that have become media platforms

Adding to this budgetary pressure is a transformation of fashion itself. Fashion shows are no longer just presentations of collections, but seem to have become media platforms in their own right.

The front rows are overflowing with celebrities whose fame extends far beyond the world of fashion. Kim Kardashian and Cardi B, but also billionaire Jeff Bezos and his partner Lauren Sanchez, sometimes generate more buzz than the looks they’ve come to admire. They reinforce the idea that fashion has become a playground for the ultra-rich in search of new status symbols. On Instagram, the criticisms are flying: “Lauren Sanchez in vintage Dior looks like something from Shein!”

Stylist Miguel Adrove is outraged: “This is all disgusting. Fashion is a complete sham; everything has been bought. I don’t understand how people can participate in this fiasco in these chaotic times.” Fetcha Treat , a fashion content creator with 17,000 Instagram followers, sums up this unease in a video posted after Demna’s first show for Gucci:

When capital dictates style

Another illustration of this evolution: star stylist Law Roach, acclaimed for his work with Zendaya and Céline Dion, embodies a certain idea of ​​Hollywood “good taste,” blending cutting-edge pieces with vintage touches. And yet, it was he who dressed Jeff Bezos’s partner during this 2026 Fashion Week. With a heavy reliance on a vintage Versace tweed skirt suit and a Schiaparelli bag, the most sought-after stylist of the moment is now collaborating with a billionaire whose sense of style is considered, at best, very questionable.

Beyond the case of Lauren Sanchez, this association crystallizes the tensions of a fashion industry increasingly attracted by the ultra-rich, where the arbitration of style sometimes seems to give way to the sole power of capital.

There was a time when the legitimacy of the front row was embodied by figures like Anna Wintour, at the helm of Vogue US, whose authority rested on editorial expertise. Today, more than ever, influence is measured in digital reach but, above all, in purchasing power. The same faces circulate from one show to another, from one capital to another, in a globalized choreography that sometimes seems orchestrated more for the algorithm than for memory.