“When royal life and real life become one.” Rei Kawakubo’s cryptic description of her Spring 2027 Comme des Garçons collection opened the door to several interpretations. Was the designer making a political statement, offering satire, or exploring something more personal?

Kawakubo herself is often regarded as royalty in the world of avant-garde fashion. Her influence stretches across generations of designers, and her business has grown into a global empire. But the idea that this collection was a symbolic coronation of the famously private designer seemed unlikely.

Instead, the show presented a series of abstract, unsettling visions of power. Almost every look was topped with a crown constructed from padded cotton and wire, with the exception of the final section, which appeared to focus on denim. The imagery raised questions about what royalty represents today. Could the crowns also allude to the powerful technology executives whose influence now reaches far beyond traditional royal institutions, with potentially serious consequences for democracy?

The clothes offered few reassuring answers. Models carried elaborate three-dimensional sculptural forms that seemed to conceal rather than reveal. An early look featured a rounded denim skirt resembling an enormous Halloween pumpkin, with red fabric visible through jagged openings.

The collection developed an ominous, almost fairytale-like atmosphere. Artificial hair spilled over crinoline structures, feathers emerged from shapes resembling royal collars, and familiar furnishing fabrics appeared in distorted forms. Ticking stripes, exaggerated gingham, antique-inspired brocade and polka dots were transformed into garments that sometimes looked like collapsed pieces of furniture.

The result suggested a world of unsettling figures and hidden characters. Was there something monstrous lurking inside the throne room, or a princess trapped within its elaborate structures? One particularly striking look featured a curtain of blonde hair, decorated with ceremonial gold tassels. The faceless figure beneath it carried a haunting sense of vulnerability.

As the show progressed, the imagery surrounding royal power became increasingly violent. Red ruching, dramatic trails of red tape and an enclosing exoskeleton eventually gave way to a design that evoked exposed, bloody entrails. The sequence brought to mind France’s long history of rejecting monarchy, particularly striking given that Kawakubo has presented collections there for decades.

There may also have been a contemporary Japanese reference. Recent debate surrounding the imperial succession has focused on Princess Aiko, the popular 24-year-old daughter of Emperor Naruhito, who remains excluded from inheriting the Chrysanthemum Throne because she is a woman. A reform bill reinforcing the male-only succession rule passed in July.

Still, interpreting Kawakubo’s work too literally is always risky. Her collection may ultimately have offered a broader warning about the realities behind the privileges of royalty. Wearing one of her extraordinary crowns might be an exhilarating experience for a day, but the actual lives of queens and princesses around the world may be far less enchanting.