Cover Story

Is there seduction in concealment? Safety in charade? Lynn Yaeger surveys the dainty veils, balaclavas, and full-face glitter from the fall runways and considers a game of hide-and-seek.

THEY EMERGE FROM BACKSTAGE, gliding down the runway cloaked and hooded, burying their considerable lights under swaths of fabric, concealing their coiffures and shrouding their lovely faces. At Dior Couture, veiling darkens their visages but is open at the eyes, like the world’s chicest ski mask; at Gucci, a literal ski mask tops a turquoise pirate shirt. A tightly wrapped balaclava accompanies an ensemble that drips multiple strands of trademark pearls at Chanel; at Valentino, it’s babushkas tied in back, under the hair, a luxurious interpretation of a style whose roots reside in folklore. And the British designer Richard Quinn, whose show is famously attended by the queen, outdoes them all: He smothers his models’ faces entirely under brightly printed scarves, causing you to wonder how they will even find their way down the catwalk—and whether they are in any danger of tumbling into the monarch’s lap.

This predilection to disappear in plain sight is not limited to the catwalks. In April at Coachella, Rihanna caused a sensation when she appeared in a Gucci ski mask, made with chandelier earrings attached, and thigh-high boots. (Her face was entirely hidden, but those legs gave the game away.) Beyoncé, an early adopter of the trend, has taken a quieter route, raising the hood on a printed Chanel windbreaker at the French house’s Paris–Salzburg show in New York City, a million miles from the wild exhibitionism of the vanished Sasha Fierce.