“I didn’t want the book to feel chronological, but rather something very personal, a manifesto, almost, of how I’ve approached creating this body of work over the last twenty years,” Moralioglu tells me one bright autumnal morning in his Paris showroom, which is humming with activity. (Between us chatting, he’s fielding congratulations on his spring 2026 collection every five minutes.) “There is, yes, the chronology of the thumbnails of every single collection I’ve done. But the book is much more than that.”

Indeed it is. Just before the holidays last year, I had visited Moraliglu at his London atelier, where there were boards and boards of layouts and pages and ideas—a sense of order finding its place amidst creative spontaneity. Erdem is, thank goodness, more than a repository of look book images and advertising campaigns, so often the curse of the contemporary designer monograph. I will always remember one colleague sniffing and declaring the glut of such dull unimaginative books as “the new scented candle”—i.e., omnipresent, inescapable, and something everyone has done.