Cover: Balenciaga – F\/W 2026 Photo by Victor VIRGILE\/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images<\/small><\/p>\n
Our data-led analysis of visibility and representation for FW26 and SS26.<\/em><\/p>\n Remember that scene from Ruben \u00d6stlund’s Palme d’Or-winning 2022 film Triangle of Sadness? Carl, a shirtless male model portrayed by Harris Dickinson, is asked to do “a little walk, no smiling, no stopping” for a casting jury. Real-life stylist and Vogue Scandinavia fashion editor Robert Rydberg then asks him to relax the “triangle of sadness” between his eyebrows and to open his mouth “to look a bit more available.” That scene is a fairly accurate depiction of fashion’s quest for beauty: clinical, absurd, funny, quietly violent, and yet entirely believable.<\/p>\n Casting is not neutral. It is a creative act shaped by political, cultural, and economic forces that decide who becomes visible, desirable, and paid. It is a public statement about which bodies, identities, and geographies fashion considers inspiring, aspirational, and bankable. In fashion, beauty, money, and power are deeply intertwined.<\/p>\n The system is shaped by a network of scouts, agents, stylists, designers, and casting directors, but also by budgets, visa constraints, sample sizes, and market expectations. Not everyone will make it onto the runway, into the campaigns or lookbooks, or onto the pages of magazines. While the Western high-fashion industry often presents itself as progressive and open-minded, its commitment to diversity and inclusion remains inconsistent and contested.<\/p>\n Today, the structures that define what beauty is, who is allowed to embody it, and who gets to profit from it remain largely opaque. Examining the politics of casting reveals who fashion believes the future belongs to.<\/p>\n Casting relies on a subjective, shifting mix of taste, instinct, market logic, and the decision-makers’ own ideals of beauty. On the surface, the process is straightforward: a model either has “it” or they do not. They fit the mood, or they unsettle it. They make sense for the brand, or they blur its message. They help turn desire into sales, or they dissipate it. For Lebanon-born, Europe-raised casting director Ashley Brokaw<\/strong><\/a>, finding the right model is about questioning what feels familiar and what feels genuinely new. “When a face stops me, I do wonder whether I’m recognizing or discovering something? Both feel identical at the moment, but they’re kind of opposites,” she says. “I do ask myself if it’s pulling me backward, toward something I know, or forward, toward something I don’t. The latter usually has more potential. That’s why the faces I push are usually the ones that don’t match anything I already have filed away.” The fashion industry values intuition, the mystique of creativity, and the belief that certain people can recognise beauty where others fail to see it. But behind that mystique lies a structured system of access. “I cast almost entirely by instinct. That’s where the strongest work comes from,” says casting director Anita Bitton<\/strong><\/a>. “In a business that holds up a mirror to the world, our choices carry a lot of responsibility. We have to challenge our perspective, question our assumptions, and be willing to rethink and redefine what beauty looks like. For me, having a good eye isn’t just about recognising beauty; it’s about expanding where it exists and who gets to be seen.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The algorithm can build some momentum, but it can’t build the moment someone walks in and the room goes quiet. That’s still the unicorn I think all casting directors are looking for.<\/p>\n Ashley Brokaw, casting director<\/cite><\/p><\/blockquote>\n <\/p>\n Before a model walks into a casting room, a number of decisions have already been made. Designers, stylists, casting directors, and the people in their orbit define the world of a collection and, therefore, the faces and bodies that can live inside it: their age, attitude, energy, and, of course, walk. Agencies submit models according to that brief. Casting directors request specific names, bring back past favourites, and introduce new faces. Sometimes, they push for unexpected or “edgy” choices. Yura Romaniuk<\/strong><\/a> is a cisgender male model who has walked in womenswear shows for brands including Chanel, Miu Miu, McQueen, Marc Jacobs, Ralph Lauren, Moschino, and Hugo Boss. His presence on these runways quietly disrupts the conventional boundaries between menswear, womenswear, and the bodies permitted to represent each. Yet Romaniuk says that standing out does not necessarily require performing an identity. “I don’t try to stand out. I don’t play characters or overperform because I know that people don’t need that. They want to see the real you, not the masks,” he explains. “New faces often make the mistake of trying to play someone else when, at first, they just need to be themselves.” However, the expectation to “be yourself” is never entirely neutral; that self must still fit the world the casting team has already envisioned. Some models are street-cast; others are discovered online. But most will get into the room through the strength of agency relationships. Many will never enter the room at all. Gatekeeping is not inherently malicious, but every creative system has doors, and not everyone is given the same key. “The Market is overloaded with proposals,” says Bogdan Romanovic, the founder of Balls Models, who scouted runway sensation Yura Romaniuk on Instagram. “I like feminine men and masculine women, but I am looking for an element that is deeper than beauty.” Romanovic describes his mission as being able to recognise talents who “show drive and passion” as well as a readiness to “go out of their comfort zone to explore new horizons with a positive attitude, professionalism, and a little bit of a small-town authenticity.”<\/p>\nCasting as gatekeeping<\/h2>\n
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