Natasha Zinko Resort 2026 Collection

Vogue

6 hours ago

Within the first few minutes of her resort 2026 preview, Natasha Zinko committed a rare faux pas by admitting she doesn't absolutely, full-heartedly, adore fashion's in-between seasons. (An opinion shared, but seldom expressed, by most other designers.) It was an unusual comment—not just because of its refreshing candor—but because this collection was one of Zinko's best to date: far more grounded, and believable, than the dystopian fantasies (if you can believe they still are fantasies in this current political climate) she had previously situated in outer space and on the ever nefarious plastic surgeon's table. It was from that place of relative exasperation—or creative doubt—that she landed on an entirely relatable narrative based around the quotidian lives of a flat-roofed American neighborhood.
'I was thinking about the 'as a last resort' idiom,' the designer said. 'But also what that old adage might represent in more literal terms, with people making a last ditch attempt at having a vacation.' From there, she imagined, and costumed, a cast of stereotypically sunburnt holiday-makers. There was a local used car salesman—modeled by her brand's managing director—in an outsized check suit with sleeves rolled up to reveal a second set of raw-edged cuffs underneath; a football-obsessed hooligan in skewed zipper jeans and a sheer tee printed with his favorite player's name and number; and a mechanic—inspired by Zinko's father—in an inside-out uniform of acid-treated, upcycled cargo pants. Then along came a bodybuilder in a tank top and pleated jersey sweats, followed by a glamorous cougar in a twisted leather bodycon dress and trending platform thong sandals, and her teenage daughter in a bubble-skirt mini dress spliced from striped polo shirt fabric.
As to whether this will, in fact, be Zinko's last resort collection? Well, let's hope not. 'If I feel it, I do it,' she said, with a shrug. Just as deadpan were this season's leather shoppers, stapled with replica receipts from the brand's Brewer Street store; everyday cotton towels transformed into spacious flap bags—genius for concealing valuables on the beach—and strapless, just-showered column dresses. Even with the double-legged trousers, sleeveless micro dresses, and upside-down skirts—continuations of the past few seasons' fixation with surgically botched bodies—the collection seemed a little less moodboarded, or self-consciously aestheticized than before. 'It's an easier look,' the designer concluded. 'The message is: you've rolled out of bed and your hair's a mess, but you want to enjoy whatever you've got left of the sunshine. Everything here feels more effortless.' Hmmm. Effortless or low-effort? 'Get back to me on that,' she said.