Herrera, Spain and Me

Carolina Herrera’s show in Madrid continues to reverberate throughout Spain — proving parent Puig’s multimillion-euro investment in it was worth it.

Coverage of the Thursday night show in Plaza Mayor — where I grew up walking as a child — ran all over Spanish media throughout the weekend. More than 70 looks swept through the square, while 1,500 guests — including some traditional Spanish high society some reality show newbies and I am sure a few footballer’s wives — watched a spectacle that doubled as the launch of La Bomba, a fragrance named after Jackie Kennedy’s nickname for Carolina Herrera herself, according to rumors. Puig, Spain’s fragrance giant, made it clear: This was fashion as a cultural and business power move. And it positioned Puig as a high fashion player at the level of the French conglomerates.

For me, it was a moving event, Wes Gordon’s first Herrera main season show outside New York. And the designer recognized the gravitas of the occasion, with numerous references to Spanish culture and fashion. Gordon spoke backstage about Velázquez and El Greco, and you could see it in the lively palette, the sculptural coats, and the nice yet predictable grand volumes. But what impressed me was that he didn’t just use Spain as the stereotypical destination backdrop. He invited the country’s designers from past and present into the conversation — Sybilla, Palomo Spain, Casa Seseña, Andrés Gallardo; local voices and artisans who reinterpreted Herrera’s codes with sincerity and newness.

Then there was the music. For me, it was personal. The soundtrack — Alaska and Olé Olé, among others, were the anthems of La Movida. I grew up listening to those songs in Spain’s ‘80s, when the country was shaking off Francisco Franco’s shadow and rediscovering its voice. To hear that soundtrack shake Plaza Mayor during a Herrera show felt like two parts of my life — fashion and personal history — suddenly colliding. Pedro Almodóvar and Bibiana Fernández sat front row, living reminders of that era. My emotions crescendoed when the towering gowns walked by to the song No Controles by Ole-Ole.

The clothes themselves were pure Herrera — florals, flamenco swirls, blood red against inky black — but Gordon turned them into a love letter to Spain, to Latin culture, to reinvention. This wasn’t just a collection; it was a moment where heritage, fashion and identity came together. I’ve sat through hundreds of runways. Many a blur. But this one felt extremely personal to me. Because fashion’s real power isn’t just in the clothes, but in the way it makes you feel seen. For me, Herrera in Madrid was a reminder of who I am, where I come from, and why fashion matters.

Ole, Wes!