Givenchy Fall 2025 Ad Campaign

Review of Givenchy Fall 2025 Ad Campaign by Creative Director Sarah Burton with Photographer Collier Schorr with models Adut Akech, Vittoria Ceretti, Nyaduola Gabriel, Kaia Gerber, Eva Herzigova, Emeline Hoareau, Liu Wen

Givenchy’s Fall 2025 campaign arrives as Sarah Burton’s first statement for the house, and it is less a whisper than a gathering of voices. Shot by Collier Schorr and featuring a formidable cast—Adut Akech, Vittoria Ceretti, Nyaduola Gabriel, Kaia Gerber, Eva Herzigova, Emeline Hoareau, and Liu Wen—Burton draws not only on the radiance of her models but on the women behind the camera as well. Longtime collaborators Camilla Nickerson and Lucia Pieroni step into the frame, as does Schorr herself, in a gesture that turns the spotlight back on the collaborative act of fashion-making. The hook is simple and yet profound: what if the campaign itself became a record of female authorship?

The imagery captures an atmosphere of intimacy and immediacy. This is not a tableau of distant mannequins, but a chorus of personalities—multi-generational, multi-voiced, and unafraid of the in-between moments. Burton seems intent on peeling away the lacquer of aloof perfection that had dominated Givenchy’s streetwear-inflected years, reintroducing vulnerability, warmth, and collective authorship. If her predecessors often spoke in the language of street uniformity, Burton finds her rhythm in fragments of poetry, finding power in shared presence.

Of course, such restraint is not without risk. Visually, the campaign treads close to understatement, its white walls and enclosed setting leaving it vulnerable to flatness. The presence of familiar faces—Kaia Gerber among them—creates continuity but blurs the sense of debut, as though this campaign extends rather than reinvents the Fall narrative. The decision to place the creative team in front of the camera is thoughtful, but what truly resonates is that this circle of authorship was not exclusively female. If anything, it underscores a crucial truth: the work of building equality cannot rest on women alone, but must be a collective effort. Seeing a community uplift and amplify this message gives the campaign its deeper relevance. Rather than deliver a billboard-ready thunderclap, Burton plants the seeds of a new lexicon built on presence, participation, and solidarity. If the campaign does not land as a single, searing visual, it lingers as something else entirely: a manifesto that reminds us fashion’s stories are not only written in silhouettes, but in the gestures and exchanges of the people who shape them. To paraphrase George Eliot, “the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts”—and here, those collaborative instants become the fragile architecture of Givenchy’s new chapter.

The collaborators deserve their due: Nickerson’s styling, Pieroni’s makeup, Olivier Schawalder’s hair, Ama Quashie’s nails, and Jess Hallett’s casting all work in concert with Schorr’s eye to stage an illusion of spontaneity that, paradoxically, requires immense precision. It may not be the grand reinvention some expected, but it is a meaningful act of positioning—an effort to shape Givenchy once again as a house that stands for something more than aesthetics alone.

As first chapters go, Burton’s campaign does not shout but rather converses—a choice that may prove more enduring than any billboard slogan. If Givenchy once thrived on a darkly romantic severity, Burton seems intent on building it anew on conversation, collaboration, and connection. And perhaps that is the slyest move of all: in an age of algorithmic spectacle, Givenchy finds its strength not in noise, but in humanity. After all, isn’t it the laughter between frames that makes the picture worth remembering?