Ljubljana Fashion Week isn’t your typical fashion week—starting with the fact that the shows actually run on time. Really on time. Between each show, a giant countdown clock ticks on the screens, letting you know exactly how long you have for a bathroom break, a glass of wine, a cigarette, or—in my case—to sprint around the venue with photographers Anja Smaka and Marijo Zupanov, snapping street-style photos of attendees. It works because all 40 shows take place under one roof over four days, with a centralized production team handling hair, makeup, styling, and organization.
Ljubljana is the capital of Slovenia, a Central European country with just over two million people. The city itself is home to about 300,000. One cool thing about Ljubljana: the city center is completely car-free. The mayor introduced this in 2007—a decision that earned him a slap in the face from a protester at the time—but now it’s widely loved. Initiatives like this helped the city earn the title of European Green Capital in 2016.
For such a small city, its fashion week overflowed with creativity, energy, and humor. None of it would be possible without Melinda Rebrek, the powerhouse executive producer of LJFW—a tenacious woman with red lipstick, gray-tinged hair, and razor-sharp tailoring. I knew she was a diva (in the best way) the moment she started oversharing at our arrival brunch. The event is run by Rebrek, Den Baruca, and Uroš Vovk, and has been going strong for 11 years, since 2014.
“LJFW isn’t run on money, but on love,” Rebrek says. The fashion week is completely self-funded, with no government support. There are, however, plans to establish a Slovenian Fashion Council. “[Our designers] deserve to make it both at home and beyond Slovenian borders, and many of them working abroad proves that,” Rebrek adds. One of the country’s recent success stories is knitwear designer Tanja Vidic, who collaborated with Rick Owens and created looks for FKA Twigs’ Eusexua tour.
The crowd was a mix of glamorous women, eccentric fashion lovers, artsy young people, and plenty of friends and family cheering on designers. And yes—I met Anna Wintour! (Well, a hairstylist named Aska Kajtazovic who looked exactly like her, bob and sunglasses included.)
Lan Krebs
Imagine if Issey Miyake’s pleats met McQueen’s Plato’s Atlantis. Lan Krebs, a Slovenian designer who just finished his MA at the Swedish School of Textiles, showed a collection of seamless, cut-free jersey knit garments. Made on a circular knitting machine, each piece began as a tube and was transformed through pleating, hand-gathering, and other fabric experiments. Lan told me after the show that he chose the circular knitting machine for his MA because no one else wanted to use it—so he had it all to himself. Proof that limitations can spark the best results.
Things I Miss
A troupe of tulle-clad girls could never escape my attention. The pastel dreaminess backstage belonged to Things I Miss, founded by Tina Princ. Her background in theater, dance, music production, journalism, and documentary work shows—she’s all about storytelling. The floral aesthetic isn’t just for looks: it explores “the cyclical nature of life—budding, blooming, fading, and ripening once again.” For the show’s finale, the lighting turned red, washing out all color and leaving the dresses a ghostly white, forcing the audience to focus on shape and movement instead.
Æmona
This show quite literally put the siren in “office siren.” Sharp tailoring met wet-look hair, reading glasses dripping with water, and handbags that doubled as vases. The water sloshed up and down inside clear Perspex bags as the models walked. The collection was titled Panta Rhei—an Ancient Greek phrase meaning “everything flows.” The narration began: “You cannot step into the same jeans twice. Your body has changed, as has your relationship with it… The jeans may be more worn, faded… Change is our only constant, and in a world of flux, panta rhei—everything flows, and nothing, not even a pair of pants, remains untouched by change.”
MNK CL
Girly-but-weird is one of my favorite aesthetics, and MNK CL nailed it. Designer and stylist Monika Colja drew from her family archive—especially her grandmother’s Idrijan lace from western Slovenia—turning it into something new. In one look, lace snakes up the legs of jeans; in another, it becomes a belt. There were swan motifs, wallpaper prints, and a palette of dusty lavender, pale peach, magenta, and bright red. Despite the sweetness, frayed edges and peeling fabrics kept everything cool and grounded.
Fannilszl
Fannilszl showed as part of a collective from Budapest, just a four-hour drive from Ljubljana. LJFW makes a point of collaborating with neighboring capitals. Designer Fanni László creates for the “gorgeous weirdo,” with a particular interest in viral fashion and trashy internet culture—no wonder she caught my eye. One standout piece: a sack-back puffer jacket in a loud lime-green floral print, blending exaggerated proportions with unapologetic kitsch. J’adore.
Sarivalenci
I was told I’d love Sarivalenci’s show, and it absolutely delivered. Think meringue-shaped silhouettes made from crinoline, pink tulle galore, and inflatable jackets—a sugary, kitschy feast for the eyes. But nestled among the spectacle were surprisingly wearable pieces, like suede jackets. After the show, the designer told me that was intentional: “So everyone can recognize something familiar, but still have fun—because I hate yawning at my shows.” Growing up in the age of social media fashion, where what succeeds is what looks great on-screen, I totally get her philosophy. Closing out LJFW, it was the perfect ending for me.