Interview by Filep Motwary

When Nicolas Di Felice was appointed Artistic Director of Courrèges just before the French maison’s 60th anniversary in September 2020, it marked the dawn of a new era for the legendary brand—rekindling hope for a genuine revival rooted in its groundbreaking origins.

Since 1961, André Courrèges and his beloved wife Coqueline crafted visionary garments inspired by sci-fi cinema, distinguished by their clean lines, innovative materials—plastic, metal, vinyl—and vibrant colors. Courrèges was to fashion what Le Corbusier was to architecture: a space-age visionary who disrupted conventions by liberating the female form from the corseted silhouette that Dior had reintroduced after World War II. He cemented his legacy by creating futurist attire that commented on the era’s obsession with a hyper-technological future, earning international acclaim, especially among youth—a generation that defined the 1960s with a kaleidoscope of conflicting trends.

Courrèges’ style is, in essence, a singular synthesis of modernism, innovation, and simplicity—impacting designers and audiences alike for over five decades. His modernist vision challenged fashion’s traditional rules and remains revolutionary, much like the works of contemporaries Paco Rabanne and Pierre Cardin. Contrary to what one might expect, his designs were wearable—rooted in minimalism achieved through geometry, a monochrome palette, and an absence of ornamentation.

After André Courrèges’ passing in 2016, the house entered a phase of strategic recalibration aimed at preserving and protecting its aesthetic in the rapidly evolving post-social media fashion landscape. The 2015 hiring of the popular design duo Coperni—Sébastien Meyer and Arnaud Vaillant—was short-lived due to internal upheavals and corporate uncertainty. Less than two years later, they left to focus on their own label. A subsequent revival attempt with CEO Christina Ahlers and designer Yolanda Zobel lasted just one season. Then, amid the global pandemic, the announcement of Nicolas Di Felice as Courrèges’ new creative head stirred the waters.

I confess I immediately sought to meet him, eager to learn everything about his new role for a house I deeply admire. Yet the PR office urged patience—advising me to wait until he had proven himself over at least two seasons. He did so with his debut show in September 2021. I barely recall how I braved that cold, rainy morning at Bois de Vincennes, Paris’s sprawling eastern park, where, according to the press release, Nicolas and his partner shared their first kiss. I do remember the ponchos handed out at the entrance, how much I adored the collection, and the nightmare journey back into the city.

Two years later, just a week after the Courrèges Spring/Summer ’23 presentation last October, I finally called Nicolas. “Hi Filep, did you see? We made it,” he greeted me with joy, instantly breaking the ice—I felt as if I were speaking with an old friend. Almost immediately, he spoke of his love for Greece. “I spend every summer in Amorgos, in Aegiali. That’s the only place where I truly relax. I book at least twelve months in advance—I can’t bear the thought of someone else renting my spot and me not being able to go,” he shared.

Born in Charleroi, Belgium—far from fashion capitals—Nicolas, of Italian descent, grew up amid steel industries in what he calls a terre noire, where the wind blankets buildings in black dust. He studied fashion at La Cambre in Brussels but didn’t graduate; a coveted internship at Balenciaga whisked him off to Paris. “Everything happens for a reason,” he believes.

“It was a time when I needed to work. I wanted to develop my ideas—I felt creative. I was tired of school and wanted more. Joining Balenciaga was a cultural shock—from Brussels’ underground scene to one of the biggest, most historic houses with a vast archive. I met people unlike anyone I’d known. I remember how excited I was to meet Natacha Ramsay-Levi, who took me under her wing. I wanted to be part of her team. I spent two months with them and went back to Brussels with no plans. But within 48 hours, they called to offer me a contract! I stayed until Nicolas Ghesquière left Balenciaga. Then I went to Dior, which was different. I worked twelve-hour days, felt like I was back in school—that phase wasn’t for me, at least not then. So when Ghesquière moved to Louis Vuitton and asked if I’d join him, I didn’t hesitate.”

All those years, Di Felice enjoyed his fortune without imagining himself in a leadership role. Every job offer signaled change he wasn’t seeking. He was happy where he was. “It wasn’t my main goal. I was in an amazing team, with capable assistants, part of an extraordinary atelier, and a boss constantly searching—making every day interesting. I never got bored,” he admits. Until Courrèges came knocking. “It was the first time I stepped back to see this great opportunity from a distance. I thought—I’m not 20 anymore; I’m 36. This was confirmation of my growth, a reward for years of hard work. I also saw it as a challenge because Courrèges is a unique identity, with a specific palette, fabrics, and shapes.”

Seeing the public’s warm embrace of his vision, I think the match between Nicolas Di Felice and Courrèges was a brilliant move by the house’s leaders, including Artémis, François-Henri Pinault’s company that owns 30%. I asked what was asked of him at the start and his initial thoughts.

“I knew André Courrèges’ work well. Before starting, I watched every interview I could find and read everything about him. I was terrified inside—it was my first time leading a house—but I approached it calmly, as he would. My main goal was to feel comfortable and secure. Even though I spent 16 years in French houses, I’m still Belgian, with all that implies. I like observing closely. I care deeply about detail and form, obsessively, I’d say. It’s funny—I sometimes compare dissimilar things, like French André Courrèges and Belgian Ann Demeulemeester, who share nothing but whose work reveals a strong, consistent personality. André Courrèges’ creations were not about fashion changing every six months. His proposals were ways to improve not only how we look but how we think. Many see his futuristic fashion as his greatest achievement. It was part of the picture, but he was much more than his obsession with technology. The space-age style was a global trend, not his invention. What he did was process it uniquely as the spirit of the time. Interestingly, he was also obsessed with streetwear. He wanted to see his clothes worn on the streets—that’s our shared vision. His wife played a big role in his creative journey—he was passionately in love with her his entire life. She supported him to the end. Passion always pays off! That’s what inspired me to give my all in this role. I want to dress the people who walk the streets, as he did.”

Backstage, days before our conversation, the small space behind heavy black curtains buzzes with tension. Makeup artists and hairstylists move among models, perfecting their looks. François-Henri Pinault himself observes the order of appearance cards and photos with interest. Opposite me, supermodel Anne Catherine Lacroix wears a leather jacket and sharp silver earrings. Our eyes meet; she waits to hear her name. Beyond creating a cohesive, global image for Courrèges—including boutique architecture—Nicolas is also responsible for the music, which he composes with his close friend Erwan Sene, and for the show’s scenography. Through the cracks, I glimpse a packed venue—it’s magical. I try to take photos but it’s impossible once the show begins.

This summer’s collection features predominantly body-conscious pieces revealing more than they conceal. In the pristine white room, models circle a sand dune—an invisible, giant hourglass in motion. It’s clear the designer drew inspiration from surfing and scuba diving. Models sport reflective sporty sunglasses, oversized leather and vinyl accessories, and monochrome ensembles of billowing shirtdresses, vests, and trousers, many emblazoned with the house logo in strategic spots.

Distressed denim and signature slanted ‘naiad’ dresses define the Courrèges woman. Some models walk slowly and sensually, clutching their slingbacks or tying jackets around their waists. I realize this collection looks beyond the obvious. Nicolas’ rise at Courrèges rests on his ability to sense youth’s needs. As the show unfolds, sand falls increasingly fast—a metaphor for the fluidity here, echoed in the transparency and lightness of silk. Youth, linked to the joy of life, remains a core Courrèges value. “I often see people wearing clothes that belonged to their mothers or grandmothers, which I think strengthens our ecological consciousness—making quality clothes that last. Personally, I don’t engage with greenwashing or design collections with ‘eco’ labels. What matters at Courrèges is creating garments with substance that never go out of style—clothes their owners will never part with,” he concludes.