Tory Burch – On Humor, Heritage, and Finding Beauty in the In-Between
By Mackenzie Richard Zuckerman
Backstage at her Spring/Summer show, Tory Burch reflects on the tension between precision and imperfection, the influence of her parents, and why she believes women’s clothes should always feel like their own.
Backstage at Tory Burch, laughter mingled with the sound of champagne corks and the hum of post-show adrenaline. Models in low-slung skirts and dropped-waist dresses moved easily among racks of garments, their pilled cashmeres sparkling faintly with embellishment woven right into the yarn. Burch herself was relaxed, smiling, quick to point out the details others might overlook.
I started with the complexity of women,” she said. “The facets of style, the tension between precision and imperfection, femininity and strength.”
This season, that duality played out in contrasts: crushed viscose dresses that looked casually thrown on but gleamed with quiet luxe; cashmeres that carried both warmth and shimmer. Even humor found its way into the show, threaded through the soundtrack and the styling.
Jewelry, too, carried her signature balance of pragmatism and wit. “I thought about sets, an old-fashioned idea, but I wanted to modernize it. Barbed wire became a motif — tough but elegant — in shoes and jewelry. And I used both gold and silver so women don’t have to figure out which one works.”
Family heritage made itself felt in more personal ways. An antique suede jacket once worn by her father appeared on the runway, while the initials of her entire team were woven into embroidery inspired by the samplers she grew up with.
My dad influenced so much — shirting, monograms. And my mother has always been my muse. She was chic without ever trying, and that effortlessness is something I always think about.”
Experimentation remained central. Proportions dropped to the hips, skirts slung low, dresses carried a whisper of the 1920s. Sequins frayed intentionally, embroidery floated on mesh, jersey clung with tubular precision. Even tailoring tricks from haberdashery appeared, like blind zippers left exposed as a deliberate design choice.
If there was a theme, it was tension — not just in fabric but in spirit. “I’m interested in the balance between cleanness and disorder,” Burch admitted. “It doesn’t always work, but when it does, it feels exciting.”
That balance also spoke to her broader vision: clothes that are elegant yet approachable, sophisticated yet playful, pieces meant to last but never too precious.
I wanted the collection to feel joyful and optimistic, but also real. The hope is always longevity — that women collect these pieces and make them their own.”
As the backstage crowd swelled — friends, editors, and celebrities stopping to congratulate her — it was clear that Burch had achieved exactly that: clothes that felt alive in their contradictions, and a show that celebrated not only the complexity of women but the joy of dressing itself.
