Marie Adam-Leenaerdt

Her Balenciaga years under Demna show in the method — familiar objects estranged until you see them fresh — but the register is her own: quieter, more domestic, closer to Magritte than to streetwear. A tablecloth becomes a dress; a handbag merges with a glove; a sensible suit turns out to be one garment pretending to be three. The surrealism is deadpan, Belgian to the bone, and always resolved into clothes a woman can actually wear.

She was one of the youngest designers on the official calendar at her debut, and the label has built its reputation season by season on that rare combination — conceptual wit backed by precise, commercially fluent tailoring — that has fashion’s front row watching Brussels again.