“My first Chanel couture fitting ran over two hours. I stood and watched artisans cut fabric directly on the body and sew in real time—skills honed over decades, the kind only a handful of people on earth still possess. You never forget that each piece represents hundreds, if not thousands, of hours of work. That afternoon told me everything about the world I’d walked into: the women who shop couture could buy anything on the planet, which is exactly why couture is the last thing money can simply acquire.”
The man telling me this is a personal shopper and stylist to some of the world’s wealthiest women—a fixture in the front rows and fitting rooms most people will only ever read about—who has asked to remain unnamed, out of respect for the privacy of his clients. It’s a discretion that is, in this world, the whole job. What he offers isn’t access to the clothes; the clothes are a given. It’s taste, editing, and the judgement to know when a quiet black Chanel jacket will outlast the grandest ball gown. Ahead of Paris Haute Couture Week, here, in his own words, is how the ultra-rich actually shop couture.
YOU TAKE IT OUT INTO THE WORLD
It depends on the client. For some, it’s tradition—something their mother or grandmother did, so their first experience of it was generational. They grew up witnessing fittings, and now, as adults in a position to do it themselves, there’s a lovely full-circle quality to it. It’s a way to connect with the women who came before them.
For others, it’s about preservation. A number of my clients are as much of a fashion nerd as I am—they buy purely to keep the craft alive. Some collect with the intention that a piece will one day go to a museum: things that are technically advanced, that showcase as many forms of construction as possible, that are historically and culturally significant. Couture lets you build a legacy around something you love and can actually live in. You wear it, you feel extraordinary in it, and at the end of that life it can become part of fashion history. Art is incredible too, but it sits on a wall. This you get to take out into the world.
EVERY HOUSE DOES SOMETHING BEST
It’s a combination of all of the above: silhouette, craftsmanship, story. I tend to buy with a purpose rather than ask, ‘What are we buying this season?’ Every house does certain things better than others. If I need the perfect black trouser, there’s really only one place: Armani. For tailoring I’ll go to Armani or Gaultier; for a dramatic ball gown, Giambattista Valli or Valentino. It depends entirely on the need.
But the other half of my job is emotional. When someone truly falls in love with a piece on the runway, their body language changes—you can tell instantly. I make a note and send those pieces through afterwards. One client fell for a ball gown and said, ‘I have nowhere to wear this.’ I told her, ‘Trust me, we’ll find the occasion.’ Months later she wore it to a gala in London, and it was glorious. Those are the moments I live for.
I’M ALREADY PLANNING FOR JANUARY
I usually prepare with clients three to four months ahead—sometimes longer. I’m already planning for January. We start with one question: what really resonated last season? Sometimes a film or a show becomes a jumping-off point, which is fun, because it mixes a client’s own style with a touch of the theatrical.
Most of my clients can afford anything on the market, so I like to mix in more interesting things—I love folding vintage into couture, and vintage couture is better still. With Chanel especially, the current ready-to-wear is expensive and widely bought, so the odds are you’ll run into someone in the same thing. I don’t like that. I work with the best vintage dealers in the world. The very best don’t share photographs at all—if you want to see a piece, you go to it. I’ve flown to Los Angeles just to see a gown in the flesh.
TUESDAY IS ALWAYS CHANEL
Chaotic, but exhilarating—and oddly, the schedule barely moves from season to season. We arrive early so a tailor can fit everything with time to spare. Mornings start very early: glam, then Schiaparelli, then fittings, perhaps Iris van Herpen. Tuesday is always Chanel—we take the noon show, so there’s a leisurely breakfast first, then a long lunch afterwards to unpack it, because Chanel is so layered and technical you need to talk it through.
Evenings can mean choosing between two dinners—last year both Chanel and Armani hosted on the same night, which is a kind of Sophie’s choice. And no matter what, everyone ends up at Costes for a nightcap. Later in the week it’s back-to-back appointments.
I STAY AWAY
Over the past few years I’ve practised what I preach: unless I have a reason to be there, I don’t go. If it’s a house I don’t sell much of, or one that doesn’t inspire me, or there’s no friend showing—I stay away. Fashion is a business, and couture is expensive; every seat is worth a certain amount of money, and I want this world to survive. If I take up a seat knowing I can’t add value, there’s no point in being in it.
LESS A CODE THAN A REVERENCE
It’s less of a code, more respect. Couture is a very small, very intimate world. Once people understand you’re there for the right reasons—out of love for the craft, not status—they welcome you. At my core I’m the world’s biggest fashion nerd; I still read BoF and WWD every single morning and close to a dozen publications a month, and I travel the world for exhibitions. People pick up on that.
These are skills honed over decades, and only a handful of people on earth can work this way. You treat all of it with reverence—the artisans, the sales teams who are custodians of a rarefied craft, the hours behind every seam. So it’s less a code of conduct than a respect for the industry itself.
THE COLLECTION YOU NEVER SEE
Couture is never limited to what comes down the runway—that’s the beauty of it. With Dior, for instance, a special collection shows alongside the high jewellery, available only to those clients. And you can always go further: make this jacket longer, turn it into a coat, change the velvet to liquid organza, sketch it again. I’ve done it a thousand times. That collaboration—a piece that is uniquely yours—is the real thrill.
THE QUIETEST PIECE IN THE ROOM
True luxury now is dressing for yourself—security in who you are. Not to impress anyone, just to feel like the best version of yourself. Some of the pieces I bought this year are the quietest in the room. You can’t read the label from across a party; you can only tell it’s impeccably made and fits like nothing else.
Armani Privé is the perfect example. I’ve never once seen a Privé piece overpower the woman wearing it—it amplifies her, props her up. Elsewhere I’ve watched pieces overwhelm the client, sold because she insisted, and a garment that grabs all the attention can subtract from the person inside it. I hate the term, but Privé is the ultimate quiet luxury: no logos, nothing loud—just the most beautifully fitting clothing you’ve ever seen, bought by a woman for herself.
WHAT THEY WANT NOW
Demi-couture and made-to-order are rising fast. Clients are buying less and less ready-to-wear—the market is saturated and the prices have climbed until it’s almost as expensive as couture anyway. As so many forms of luxury have become accessible, this is the one that hasn’t. And vintage is booming, especially Chanel. Many of my long-time clients have built remarkable archives, and part of the joy is the hunt—finding an extraordinary piece, then going back to research the season it’s from. I do that work with them, and I love it.
THE ONES THAT GAVE ME GOOSEBUMPS
My first Chanel couture show at the Grand Palais—walking in, looking up at the glass dome and thinking, I made it. Glenn Martens’ debut Margiela show—historic, emotional, flawless. And the first Armani Privé gown I ever placed: liquid organza and embroidery, absolutely exquisite. My jaw hit the floor when it came out. I remember being completely in love with it.
There’s also the quieter thrill of spotting living history—a Lagerfeld-era Chanel piece on a client at an event, realising it was made for her 25 years ago. Catching those references across collections is one of my favourite parts of the job.
THE ONE I WISH I’D KNOWN
If I had to choose anyone, living or dead, it would be Karl Lagerfeld at Chanel—he made one of my closest friends’ wedding dresses, and it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But honestly, I don’t fantasise about dressing famous people. My work is about real women who live their lives in these clothes. That’s the magic, and that’s the whole point.
The individuals pictured are shown for illustrative purposes only. They are not referenced in this article and have no connection to its subject or the clients discussed.
READ MORE
Everything We Know So Far About Paris Haute Couture Week Fall/Winter 2026/27
Dior, Miss Sohee, And More: The Best Looks From Paris Haute Couture Week 2026
Couture’s New Vanguard: How 26-Year-Old Phan Huy Is Redefining Paris Fashion’s Most Exclusive Stage
The post What It’s Like to Shop Couture When You Can Afford Literally Anything appeared first on Grazia Singapore.
