The world has been keeping its eye on Balmain. Especially after unimpressed reviews from French designer Olivier Rousteing’s latest collections, the breaking news that the collection was stolen after the brand’s truck was hijacked in Paris set the fashion world on edge.

After including the quote “Florals? For spring?” — referring to an unimpressed Miranda Priestly from “The Devil Wears Prada” (2006) — on Rousteing’s Instagram, the collection was nothing short of a Versailles-like garden.

As Rousteing revealed to Vogue, he wanted the new collection to be focused on light, joy and celebration. Wanting people to “remember [him] like the light of the Eiffel Tower,” he doesn’t want to be seen as simply a “maximalist designer.”

With exaggerated peplum hips, beautifully constructed bustiers, deep v-cuts, sparkling gems and trellis-like dresses, many were calling for Balmain’s new collection to begin the era of turning up the volume on luxury.

In fact, he addressed this very thought before the Balmain show: “I know that everybody right now is about quiet luxury … but I think what people should care about is the strength of identity and DNA. Because there’s one thing you shouldn’t lose no matter what the trends are, and that’s who you are.”

Claiming that the new collection is more him than ever, Rousteing was incredibly proud of his collection and his team. He boldly restated a classic sentiment: “I’d rather be hated for who I am than [be] loved for who I’m not.”

I agree this is a big change from typical or classic Balmain. Balmain is usually very chic, with  the metal hardware accents and the most classic collection — at least in my mind — is from its Ready-to-Wear 2014 show, which was meticulously followed in “Balmain: The Documentary.”

However, this loud luxury isn’t necessarily new or out of the current fashion culture. Schiaparelli continues to show with beautiful art-like jewelry and body pieces like Kylie Jenner’s lion headdress. Red carpet and premier pieces are still beautiful, but highly impractical — such as Taylor Russell’s Loewe metal jacket from its men’s fall/winter 2023 collection that made Anna Wintour smile. Brands like Guo Pei continue to show delicately hand-crafted haute couture like its two-person dress as the first look for the autumn/winter 2019/2020 collection.

I would argue, rather, that Rousteing’s statement is instead about loud luxury in the consumer market. With the more popular styles being re-wearable staples, brands like Brandon Maxwell, Toteme, Brunello Cucinelli and The Row have dominated the quiet luxury trend and overall luxury consumer market (obviously discounting giants like Prada, Gucci and Hermès for their accessories, and particularly, bags).

My fear for the return of loud luxury, though, is logo mania: logos on every possible inch of an item of clothing for the sake of the label itself. Not only is there some fashion crime to be said for mixing labels like a sleek Max Mara or Khaite dress with a loud Dolce & Gabbana jacket and lime green Amina Muaddi pumps — not that there’s anything wrong with them individually — but when the purpose of the outfit is to push out logos left, right and center, intentional and stylistic choice becomes an afterthought.

I want to go back to my fashion crime outfit for a second. I wouldn’t wear it personally. I love the dresses both brands make on their own; Amina Muaddi makes beautiful heels, but lime green isn’t my color and I would instead pair it with a forest green or dark gray pump. And I don’t support Dolce & Gabbana for its history of racism, homophobia and body shaming. But, if someone else intentionally put the three together to tell a story, then I’m ready to sit down and be brought on a journey. The fashion crime posed is reckless pairing for the sake of their labels — not a crime because it doesn’t fit my personal vision.

Just as such, all single-brand logo-mania or mismatched logomania (such as Gucci GG sweaters with checkered LV sweatpants, an MCM duffle bag and Balenciaga chunky sneakers) is often about proving the existence of shameless and casual affordability. Luxury turns into a form of fashion commodity instead of appreciation, care and celebration.

This reminds me of Pete, my high school religion teacher, whose final assignment for our class was to live a life full of intention and purpose.

I have to admit, I didn’t fully understand it at the time. I ended up taking it as more of a “be careful, you’re only a first-year” warning, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve seen how it applies to every situation. And, to call myself out, I only remembered this message again after seeing a TikTok calling for us to live life rather than treating our current stages as a transition for the next thing: high school as a stepping stone for college, college for careers, etc.

So, take this same principle and apply it to the way you want to dress, the way you want to convey yourself through clothes, the way you want others to see you. When forming your own opinions on being a minimalist, maximalist, logo maniac or fashion-hater, I implore you to do so with intention. As absurd or straightforward as you want to be or become, take your time, and do — everything from your outfit planning, spontaneous trips and late-night study sessions — with purpose, belief and love.

Hadyn Phillips is a junior writing about fashion in the 21st century, specifically spotlighting new trends and popular controversy. Her column, “That’s Fashion, Sweetie,” runs every Wednesday.