The Quiet Power of Sarah Burton's Givenchy

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As we sat among fellow fashion enthusiasts, professionals and students surrounded by Lightroom’s resplendent projections, I could feel electricity in the air. Just a month after her debut show at Givenchy, Sarah Burton - one of fashion’s most talented yet discreet players - was taking the stage for her first public talk at Vogue Conversations, joined by the chief critic of British Vogue, Sarah Mower. I felt as if we were all about to be treated to a backstage pass into the mind behind one of the industry’s most elusive voices. 

It’s odd to say this isn’t my first run-in with Burton. One October afternoon in 2022, after a seminar at the Old Royal Naval College, I happened upon the McQueen SS23 show, which had taken over the campus. I, of course, abandoned the rest of my itinerary to watch the models strut into a vast bubble that had been constructed, spotting a down-to-earth Sarah Burton being proudly hugged by a glistening, glamourised Naomi Campbell. I’ve always remembered that afternoon as the instance my eyes opened to writing for fashion, an industry I now wholeheartedly aspire to succeed in, thanks to Burton. 

And there I was, 916 days later, with even more practice and drive, both of us having gone up in the world. Introducing Burton, 51, to the stage, British Vogue’s deputy director, Laura Ingham, remarked how the former had influenced her while they both worked at Alexander McQueen: “Her process taught me that storytelling in fashion is about more than just visuals. It's about care, conviction, and the quiet unseen choices that make something truly powerful.” That very conviction is what has guided Burton for nearly three decades, from working as a design assistant in a crammed basement to the helm of one of the industry’s most treasured houses. 

Instagram: @creativefacew

Her story began in an art classroom at Manchester Polytechnic, where her teacher insisted she enrol at Central Saint Martins. One thing led to another, and she found herself there studying fashion design and print. Simon Ungless, her mentor at the storied institution, would eventually introduce her to his close friend, you know, just some guy called Lee Alexander McQueen. True to his brilliant idiosyncratic nature, when they first met in 1996, he asked Burton if she believed in UFOs. Thank God she did because the rest was history. 

What followed was 27 years of loyalty to McQueen’s brand, starting with a placement year in his confined yet creatively catalytic basement studio in Hoxton Square, where no one could shy away. Burton recognises her luck in working in such close proximity to someone she repeatedly dubbed a ‘genius' because she learnt so much through his raw talent. It wasn’t long after graduating that she became his second-in-command, eventually being installed as head of womenswear in 2000 just as the brand was claiming its status as a cult label. “It was just an incredibly creative moment,” she reflected on the decade, groundbreaking in its focus on creativity, storytelling and pushing boundaries. 

Losing Lee McQueen by suicide in 2010 was a tragedy that echoed throughout the industry, yet Sarah Burton took his position with grace, conserving his legacy while carving out her own identity as a designer in her own right. This couldn’t be clearer when the world discovered it was she who made the Princess of Wales’ renowned wedding dress in 2011, despite having to heavily deny it to even Anna Wintour - how brave! 

She was announced as creative director of Givenchy last year, an instatement that gave both the sense of coming full circle and starting anew. At 19, she briefly worked at the house alongside McQueen, who held the reins between 1996 and 2001. An acclaimed career later, she has returned, ready to shape its next chapter.

The ateliers at Givenchy had done impressive work for three seasons without a creative director, yet Burton arrived with the intent to bring it back to basics. Seeking inspiration in its archive, she received a gift that had been waiting for her for seventy-three years, yet it arrived just in time. During renovations at the original atelier, a small brown bag was found tucked within the walls, containing sketches and patterns from Hubert de Givenchy’s first collection in 1952. They were not as she had expected: “very clean, very ‘50s, very silhouette.” But they were the right starting point. 

Photo: Courtesy of Givenchy.

“I think when I first started at Givenchy, I suppose I thought, what does it represent? What is it?” Burton said. “So I always go back to the very beginning in whatever I do, I think you have to go backwards to go forwards.” With inspiration in mind, she decided to strip things back to Givenchy’s defining attribute: silhouette. “Whereas before I would embellish or work on top of it, I wanted to clean everything away so you actually saw the woman.” 

The showroom at the house’s Parisian headquarters couldn’t have reflected this philosophy more. In the blindingly white sunlit salon, lucky attendees sat on stacks of archival files that spoke to Burton’s considerate retrospection of the collection. No gimmicks, no theatrics, the show invited intimacy by having gazes up close to the collection, not distracted by a spectacle that would be trying to amplify them. The clothes and the feeling that they evoke rightfully took precedence. 

We were on a completely different planet from Givenchy’s last few years of garish branding. There was a look for every occasion a woman could find herself in. Hourglass tailoring sculpted the feminine form into a powerful silhouette, and the brand’s staple ‘little black dress’ received an update featuring a teeny Chantilly lace skirt. Sensual mesh dresses championed the body without apology, botanically embroidered satin garments were perfect for a more dressy occasion, and we even got a power trench, structured with a caped backing.

Vulnerability was designed to be enjoyed; the bare back was exposed in evening gowns, while suiting had been cleanly slashed. Oversized accessories couldn’t help but draw attention, such as large billowing leather scarves, bauble-esque earrings and even a very fun top made of jewels that could’ve been plucked straight from a chandelier. “It’s things that were personal, things that felt treasured, and then exploding them so they felt a different size and proportion,” she explained to Elle.

As she discussed her thoughts, it dawned on me that Burton was tailor-made for this house. She - perhaps slightly more than the wave of male designers being appointed to the world’s greatest houses - knows women. She knows how they move, what they want to feel and how they want to be seen. “It's not one woman, it's not a stereotype of what a woman is,” she described to Mower. “I learnt the fact that, you know, one day you want to feel more sexy, one day you want to feel powerful with a jacket on, and there's one day that you feel quite vulnerable. There are different emotions in a woman's life, and dressing women is an emotional thing, and I want there to be a sort of diversity in all these women that I dress and make them all feel their best possible selves.” 

As the opposite sex, my thoughts can only go so far, yet it’s explicit that the collection embraces all of that complexity. Despite the vintage cues, the clothes felt current and emotionally nuanced. Burton has somehow managed to balance commerciality, creativity, heritage and comfort, all executed through quality craftsmanship and an honest take on femininity. Models of various ages and sizes reflected this as much, with Burton being attuned to how each of them felt in her clothes - a question I doubt models are asked often. 

So, what’s the secret? She credits her accomplishments to staying true to herself, putting creativity first, and being open to contribution, but not to compromises. It’s a fitting ethos for an industry that, as she rightly says, thrives on outsiders.

Burton’s work proves that you don’t have to be the loudest voice in the room to say something that matters. And clearly, what matters to her is not the look of a dress as a piece of fashion, but the look of the woman in it.