Late September in Hyde Park. The air carried the first bite of winter, and yet, inside Burberry’s (Instagram) tent at Perks Field, the season shifted. My heels sank into brown sand spread across the floor, a nod to the summer festival grounds Britain is famous for, even as London’s chill clung to the night. Burberry had brought summer back: louder, sharper, and stitched with attitude.
From the opening notes of Black Sabbath, sourced by Benji B from the band’s archive, the show pulsed with a raw beat, Daniel Lee’s Summer 2026 collection was a story of amplified energy. The runway became a stage, the models a cast of rock stars in their own right. Music wasn’t just the backdrop; it was the heartbeat of the collection.
The clothes carried that same electricity. Slim, mod-ish tailoring in denim and mohair gave Burberry a new swagger – sharp, narrow, but never stiff. Chainmail mini dresses in colour-blocked Burberry check shimmered under the lights like sound waves. Crochet tops and trousers moved with the rhythm of a guitar riff, while laser-cut leather mimicking lace hinted at the subversive edge of festival dressing. Even the trenches, spliced with macramé or woven in raffia check, felt like reworked classics made for dancing in the rain.
What struck most was the craft. Beaded dresses, mirrored tile embroidery, whipstitched leather coats, clothes that demanded to be seen up close, but that carried presence from afar. Burberry’s atelier turned technique into spectacle, proving that innovation and tradition can sit side by side without compromise.
The palette amplified the mood: beige and brown grounded the collection, while flashes of indigo, metallic sheen and refracted House Check brought it alive under the lights. Accessories, too, leaned into this new rhythm, slouchy bridle bags with equestrian handles, rugged boots with swagger, and sandals adorned with studs and whipstitching.
This wasn’t nostalgia. It wasn’t rock’n’roll, though the echo was there. Instead, it was something distinctly British: the layering of town and country, heritage and rebellion, tailoring and noise. A reminder that fashion and music, two of the UK’s most powerful exports of late last century, remain at their most compelling when they collide.
As the last riff of “Planet Caravan” faded and the models disappeared, the audience stepped back into the cold Hyde Park night. The sand clung to our shoes, a lingering trace of Burberry’s temporary summer.
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