“To me, Gaultier was an attitude,” says Duran Lantink with an infectious grin. In 2025, the Dutch designer became the first permanent creative director to succeed the house’s founder, Jean-Paul Gaultier, after five years of rotating guest designers including Chitose Abe, Haider Ackermann, Glenn Martens, Shayne Oliver, Simone Rocha, and Olivier Rousteing, to name but a few. Now, a year after his debut collection for the house, Lantink is beginning to build the world around the clothes. Born in The Hague in 1987 and based between Amsterdam and Paris, Lantink has given the old Parisian cliché of enfant terrible de la mode new relevance at a moment when the city’s fashion landscape is tilted toward polish, commercialism, and conventional ideas of beauty. Lantink pushes silhouette, proportion, and taste toward the strange and the extreme, making him a suitable successor to Gaultier, who was similarly disruptive in his time. This was, after all, the man who put men in skirts, weaponized corsets, and propelled Parisian club culture onto the runway. That was the 1980s; this is 2026, and Lantink’s approach to the house of Gaultier is to accelerate the collision: between past and present, refinement and weirdness, street culture and the sophistication of couture. A longtime proponent of upcycling, Lantink has also made cutting, mixing, and transforming existing garments central to his work — first through the collage constructions of his namesake label, and increasingly through the exaggerated language he has carried into Gaultier, from the much-debated “nude” suits of his debut show to the padded protrusions of Madame Masculinity (F/W 2026/27). While he describes fashion as “engineering” around the body, architecture, for him, is less about buildings than about movement, performance, and the thrill of getting lost. PIN–UP spoke with Lantink about childhood interiors, the smell of Le Male, rave culture and Chongqing, couture and 3D printing — and what it means to carry the Gaultier attitude into the present.

Tomi Laja: For your 2025 Jean Paul Gaultier debut, Junior, you drew inspiration from Cleo Campert’s club-photography book Het RoXY Archief 1988–1999 while listening to the poet John Giorno. Does avoiding a traditional moodboard help preserve a sense of freedom while you create

Duran Lantink: Yeah, for me it’s really important. The thing with Jean-Paul Gaultier is that his universe is so broad — he tapped into so many different subjects. Coming in for a first show, I wanted to understand for myself: What does Jean Paul Gaultier mean to me? I even knew Gaultier before I knew it was a fashion house. Growing up, my parents were always dressing up. They wore a lot of Junior Gaultier, and they would go clubbing. That opened my mind, because at elementary school, people dressed quite conservatively. Then at night, all of a sudden, this fantasy world happened. So it was important for me to catch the attitude I first remembered — because to me, Gaultier was an attitude. These people were wild, and I didn’t know where they were going because I was too young. Then the fantasy ended when they got dressed up and closed the door. I didn’t know what happened after. That created this whole world in me, and that was the best starting point, because that’s how my story with Jean Paul Gaultier began. And that’s the story I wanted to tell. For the second show, I tapped into more of a Madame Masculinity situation, which I think is also very Gaultier. There are all these different elements I’m able to play with. I demand the freedom not to say, “This is the one image of Gaultier and we’re going to follow that every season.” It’s important to tap into the different moments he’s done and find a way to make them collide.

Jean-Paul Gaultier enjoyed spending time at his grandmother’s house and watching her decorate her interior space. Your mother is an interior designer. Do you have spatial memories from your earlier life in The Hague that have influenced your work?

My step-grandad was an antique dealer and owned several antique shops, so I was around interiors constantly. At one point, my mom and stepdad had an interiors shop too, for about eight years. It was called Gadgets, which doesn’t make much sense to me. But it was very 90s, they sold these fluffy photo frames, shocking pink with sunflowers on them, very kitsch. I was kind of obsessed with them. And they never gave me one, which is also kind of rude. [Laughs.] So from a young age, I was surrounded by interiors. My stepdad’s antique shops were around the corner from my elementary school, so I’d always go there for lunch. And in my mom’s house, it always felt unfinished, always changing — a sort of ever-evolving space, which I think is quite nice.

I read that you had bright pink hair as a kid. Is that true?

Yeah, definitely. I think it was actually kind of the same pink as that photo frame, now that I think about it.

And do you have any strong memories of smell in relation to space

The first thing that comes to mind is the sea, because I grew up in The Hague, near the water. I loved that salty smell as a child. I also have a funny Gaultier memory. I think I was fifteen or sixteen, and my parents were on vacation, so I was home with my grandma. I convinced her she could just stay in and not worry about anything. Instead, I went to a rave and met a guy who was maybe nineteen, so it was kind of an illegal situation. I brought him home and he stayed the night. After he left, my pillow smelled completely of Le Male by Gaultier. If I hadn’t smelled that, I probably would have forgotten the whole situation, but that scent made it a very vivid memory. For myself, I really like vetiver. I don’t know exactly where that comes from — maybe my grandpa wore it — but it feels very much like home to me, even though nobody in my direct environment wore it. Whenever I smell it, something happens.

Your mother and stepfather were surrounded by furniture, and also Jean-Paul Gaultier himself did furniture and interiors. Have you ever wanted to design furniture?

I love the idea of doing furniture. Growing up, we had my step-grandad’s antique shops, but my mom and stepdad’s shop, Gadgets, also had more modern furniture. I was always interested in combining the two — taking my step-grandad’s antiques and mixing them with newer pieces. Sort of Frankensteining them together. I’ve always been interested in that, but I haven’t really had the opportunity to do it yet. In general, I like the idea of creating a world around you that doesn’t necessarily end with clothing. But one step at a time.

That Frankenstein instinct sounds very close to the way you started working with clothes. Was recycling always part of your practice?

Yeah, the recycling part is really important to me. I was always cutting up clothes. As an eight-year-old, I liked wearing dresses and skirts, so I was always mixing and matching. It was a way for me to communicate from a very young age. I never really liked working with new fabrics; I felt more at ease taking clothing pieces I already had and trying to create my own identity out of them. And upcycling and reusing have been around forever. There was this amazing project after World War II in Holland, the Nationale Feestrok, where women made skirts out of scraps of fabric they already had and wore them for Liberation Day. I’ve always liked looking at what’s already in the room and figuring out how to change it.

And you were literally doing that with your grandmother’s tablecloth

Yeah, my grandma’s tablecloth. And my stepdad had this whole pile of Diesel jeans he was going to throw away, so I cut them all up and made little skirts with the chains still on them. It was really funny. I sold them in this slightly cyberpunk shop near the beach in The Hague, and they did really well — probably my biggest commercial success yet. [Laughs.]

What kind of architecture are you into?

It’s hard — it can change. I’m very interested in cities, and what I like is when there’s an eclectic mix of things, so it doesn’t feel too fixed. This summer I was in Chongqing, which is sort of the cyberpunk future city in China. There were super-Modernist, futuristic buildings right next to very quickly built, low-budget high-rises, and then traditional Chinese houses with big trees in front. That mix of things gets me excited, because I can’t fully understand what’s happening. I’d also really like to visit Islamabad. I like that Pakistan has that Brutalist quality alongside mid-century Modernism, and then the glow of nature. I don’t have a lot of formal knowledge of architecture, but I know what I like.

It sounds like you’re almost describing your moves in fashion, but translated to a totally different scale: that collage, bricolage situation.

Yes. I like it when things are slightly uncomfortable, when you don’t necessarily know where you’ll end up. Last year I was in São Paulo for the first time, and I loved it. It felt like there were no rules in terms of what they were building. Everybody just does what they want, and somehow it all comes together and makes perfect sense.

Do you dream about any commissions outside of clothing? A club? Hotel?

I think I do. What’s nice about what Mr. Gaultier did is that it gave him the opportunity to build a universe further, outside of fashion. I like the idea of a club especially. I come pretty much from rave culture — from my teenage years and later during my studies. A club would be nice because it gives you freedom; it’s sex-positive, you can do performance, it’s slightly dark. Not an unsafe space, but a space where you get a little excited, where you don’t know what to expect. So the idea of a club could be quite amazing. But I just wouldn’t know where to find the time at the moment with all the collections.

I love the F/W 2026/27 collection. Look 31 lives in my head. Iconic.

Oh, the leather one. Thank you.

So if ready-to-wear is back, does that mean boutiques will be back too?

We’re opening a pop-up at Galeries Lafayette starting in October. It’s not a full shop, more a shop-in-shop, but it’s the first time I’ve been able to create a mini space. To me, the idea of a shop is very important because the physical experience matters. It can create a bigger universe and translate the clothes into an environment. I feel like a shop needs to become more than a shop. There should be performance, or maybe a platform for younger designers to sell parts of their collections. It needs to have a soul. You want people to come back. I know I’m part of a bigger company and that selling is part of it, but you can still create a space that does more than just display racks and clothing. That’s the kind of universe I’m interested in creating. And with Gaultier, I can’t just recreate the 80s. I need to catch the energy, catch the spirit, and turn that into something that makes sense for today.

Your own label, Duran Lantink, has been known for manipulating silhouettes. I’m thinking of your 2024 collections, with their almost pneumatic, bloated shapes, and the silicone chest and torso prosthetics. Where does your affinity for distortion come from?

It’s funny because I was speaking with someone the other day about how the word “distortion” can feel a bit negative, but maybe that’s not true at all. Maybe exaggeration is the better word. At a certain point, we were doing more repurposing, making these wild collages of different garments into one. Very hybrid. Then we started playing more with form: how can we change a traditional clothing piece without just mixing and matching a bomber jacket with a trench? We ended up moving into form, and it felt playful, it felt fresh. I also think it’s a reflection of what you see around you. People are constantly using filters and changing their appearance online, and the beauty industry has probably never been bigger. Everybody is trying to manipulate their face or body in some way, which is completely fine, but I like to take it a step further and see what you can actually change — something that maybe isn’t considered a standard of beauty, but that I find beautiful.

Is your own studio still based in Amsterdam?

Yes, it’s very tiny, about two square meters. [Laughs.] I’ve paused my brand because I wanted to fully focus on Gaultier because I really wanted to give it my full attention and build the universe properly.

You did your first couture collection this year, and you’ve described couture as a laboratory. What does the collaborative process with your team and artisans look like? How do experimentation and precision work together?

When you think about the origins of couture, it was very experimental. It was about presenting something that felt completely new. Think of Marie Antoinette with ships on her head, changing the silhouette. For its time, that must have felt very futuristic. So with my first couture show, I wanted to emphasize that aspect of experimentation, because that’s how you reach something that feels surprising or exciting. But I’m also very aware that experimental clothes need to be super precise. Otherwise it can distract from the shapes and the weirdness. If something is perfectly made but completely transformed, I get really excited. If something is strange but doesn’t look like it’s been done well, I get less excited. What I loved about the couture process was mixing savoir-faire with machines. We can’t ignore machines, so why not embrace them? It was interesting to combine those two mindsets: a designer working much more with technology and an atelier that’s very much about handwork. How can those things collide and become romantic in their own way?

How are you thinking about the relationship between technology and craftsmanship? For example, your F/W 2026 couture collection included a 3D-printed dress that was then hand-flocked and embroidered with lace.

That was very complicated, much more so than I thought. You do the 3D sketch, it goes to the printer, then it needs to be glued, then it goes to someone who does the hand-flocking, then it comes back and goes into embroidery. There are all these different stages that you can’t fully control. When something is made here in the atelier, it’s only one floor down, so you can follow it in real time. With technology, that part is outsourced, so you have less control. But sometimes that’s also good. I really enjoyed it. We also had this snake dress with all these 3D-printed scales, and it was amazing to see how precise the process was. It felt like magic.

Does your preference for working on a computer over paper influence your designs?

I work a lot in Photoshop, so I don’t necessarily use much paper. But we also do a lot of fittings and mock-ups, cutting up clothing and working three-dimensionally. What I like about working on the computer is that I can do it whenever I want, wherever I want. I can do it at 3:00 AM in my bed or here in the studio at the table. I prefer my bed, to be honest.

Your couture show played with sexiness in some pretty strange ways. How do you think about the relationship between the erotic and the odd?

Everyone has their own reality of what’s erotic or sexy. There’s probably a mainstream idea of it, but secretly we all have our own preferences. I like to play with that. I always think it’s fun to have something quite sexy, but a bit odd.

Some of the garments change drastically depending on whether you see them from the front or the side. How do you think about the viewer’s perspective?

It’s important to me that the designs are three-dimensional, that every angle is as exciting as the front or back. Even with shoes, I always look at the side, not the front. I think it’s important to consider all those different angles. For the upcoming S/S 2027 show, I came up with the idea of a space with mirrors. It’s not a fully mirrored space, but more of a white box that becomes a bit of a maze, with mirrors placed carefully but seemingly at random. Wherever you’re sitting, you see the model walk, but you might also catch the three-quarter back in one mirror and another angle in the next. So the spectator can see the clothing three-dimensionally. I started thinking about how to shift that perspective and let people see multiple angles at once.

The word “architectural” gets thrown around constantly in fashion. Does it mean anything to you, or do you find it meaningless?

No, I understand it. It’s about building a garment, engineering it around the body. But for me, architecture is more of a psychological thing, a sense of atmosphere. When I think about architecture, I think about the city, weirdly enough. Like the infrastructure of a place where everyone is together, and that creates culture. It’s more about designing a world than an aesthetic.

Your runway environments have been quite stripped back. The couture show, for example, was almost entirely white, with very controlled lighting. Why the restraint?

With my first Gaultier show, I think I went a little too hardcore. It was in this very industrial basement with a super-long runway, and everyone was sitting on one side. At the time I loved the idea that you would only see the clothes, but afterward I realized that a fashion show also needs to be a kind of sanctuary. People need to feel comfortable, and I think it’s important that they can see each other and read each other’s reactions. I also didn’t really like the pictures from that first show. There was a lot happening in the background, and it distracted from the clothes. So afterward I wanted to strip things back and make the space quieter, so the looks could really come through. With couture, we went very wide and very white, and even then I wondered afterward whether I’d gone a step too far. I think it’s something I have to question every season: what can we change, how can we evolve it? At the moment, I like that it’s quite minimal. There’s already enough going on with the silhouettes.

The building of Gaultier’s headquarters on rue Saint-Martin has been a workers’ mutual organization, cinema, ribbon factory, nightclub, a boxing hall…

And apparently there was even a gay sex club in the basement here before Gaultier moved in! At least, that’s what I’ve heard.
Historically, the house was always closely tied to nightlife, street culture, sex, and counterculture. What does all that mean in 2026?

For me, it means looking at what’s actually happening in culture now. Mr. Gaultier was always interested in what was happening around him in the 80s, and he reacted to it. Who’s changing ideas of beauty now? What’s the taste? Are we living more online? Are we clubbing more? Those are the kinds of things I’m curious about. I listen a lot to NTS Radio to discover music I don’t know. I’m always asking myself: what’s happening now, what’s happening around me? Whenever I talk with Mr. Gaultier, it’s always about that same idea: open your eyes, go to cities you don’t know, get lost somewhere, be a spectator, look at what’s happening, and try to embrace the things you don’t necessarily understand. It’s okay not to understand something. Sometimes that’s actually very nice. That’s my translation of Mr. Gaultier.

So can a major house still be countercultural today?

I shouldn’t be naive and say it can be completely underground. We’re part of a big group, and of course sales and quantity are part of that. But that also gives you the ability to reach a much bigger audience and tell your story. You can still be culturally relevant and sell at the same time. There’s this big space on the second floor here that I keep thinking about opening up for exhibitions, concerts, and other things. I think it’s really important to activate the studio and share what we’re interested in with the world. The business side is something I’m part of now, and that’s completely fine, as long as I can still do interesting things. Or interesting things that interest me — let’s say it like that. [Laughs.]