Forget power structures that were never built to hold us. No hierarchies, no trickle-down control. Call it what you want, matriarchy, queen-dom, her-archy, she-volution. Collina Strada calls it Fempire.

This season is about rewriting the narrative—materials, power, and everything in between. Collina Strada isn’t interested in preserving the past; it’s about tearing it open and piecing it back together differently. Thrift racks in Jersey became the starting point, where wedding dresses—once loaded with expectations—were stripped down and reworked into something that actually speaks to the present.

Because what people call “too much” is exactly what they steal from later. While everyone else tries to catch up, Strada stays ten steps ahead. Layers, veils, masks, not to hide, but to adapt. To turn pain into power, and absurdity into elegance. To be loud when it matters and low-key when it doesn’t.

Behind us? A world that tried to shrink us, flatten us, fit us into one tidy box. But the universe is intricate, and every being is their own cosmos. So the plastic play kitchens, the tiny ironing boards, the whispered expectations of being small, quiet, agreeable? Collina Strada turns, sunglasses low, and says: “I don’t know her.”

Femininity isn’t a formula. It’s messy, unpredictable—loud when it wants to be, quiet when it needs to be. It shapeshifts, contradicts itself, refuses to stay in one lane. It doesn’t ask for space, it takes it.

So take it. Take all of it. Be excessive, be unpredictable, be a problem.