Lyas’s La Watchparty Invites Everyone To The Front Row

When we speak, the 26-year-old fashion critic and influencer Elias Medini – who goes by Lyas – is sitting in a café in central Paris, his signature swipe of red lipstick underscoring an expression that’s equal parts thoughtful and mischievous. He’s wearing a red bomber jacket, a balaclava scarf-hood is pulled tightly over his head and he’s got on the kind of oversized black aviators that make anonymity look intentional. The sounds of clinking cups and passing scooters fill the background of our Zoom call.

Two weeks earlier, I’d been at his most recent La Watchparty at La Caserne in Paris – the community-built, fashion-first phenomenon that’s becoming the most democratic event of fashion month. To say it felt like a show in itself would be an understatement.

There’s a visceral sense of community at La Watchparty – a few hundred well-dressed kids and middle-aged attendees alike mingle in their best garb, whether that’s designer, archive, thrifted or custom. I met a man who’d worked with Karl Lagerfeld, Ludovic de Saint Sernin was there, Kim Petras floated through, fashion students rubbed shoulders with editors and influencers, and like me – a working fashion journalist – there were plenty of people who, like Lyas and Dior that season, didn’t get invites to the shows. That was the point. “It came from frustration of not being invited to that Dior show and wanting so bad to witness what I thought was going to become fashion history,” Lyas tells me, speaking of the first La Watchparty event, which took place in June and screened Jonathan Anderson’s debut Dior menswear show. “I brought my own TV from home… I think about 300 people came, and I was not expecting that many.”

That act of DIY defiance – hauling a television to a Paris bar to stream a show he couldn’t attend – has evolved into a movement. La Watchparty is now an event series that runs parallel to fashion week’s most exclusive moments, offering the same thrill and spectacle to anyone who wants it.

“I realised there was a need for community for youths who are passionate about fashion,” he says. “They wanted to meet and have a place where they could share whatever they wanted to and build new friendships.”

And that’s exactly what I found when I went. A crowd that dressed for the screen as if it was the front row. A ‘kiss me’ wall for people to leave their lipstick prints (wearing Lyas red, of course) and an ashtray installation where guests could stub their cigarettes out on either side of a best designer vote.

While I was there, a 17-year-old girl correctly answered a trivia question about Valentino’s AW25 soundtrack (Lana Del Rey, obviously) and Lyas immediately shipped her off to the actual show on a motorbike. “Every brand we screened gave us something… whether it was money to chip in, an invitation, shoes or gifts,” he says. “They all wanted to be a part of it and that was beautiful.”

That mix of generosity and irreverence is pure Lyas. During the screenings, he handed out Valentino Garavani x Vans sneakers and an Ann Demeulemeester bag, each giveaway accompanied by a cheer loud enough to rival a runway finale. Later that night, I made a friend – a 23-year-old journalist from Madrid – and by the end of Pierpaolo’s Balenciaga debut, we were drunk, laughing and following a group of Parisian kids to a house party that ran well into the early hours. That’s what La Watchparty is: not just an event, but a social ecosystem built on fashion fandom and shared obsession.

On my Zoom screen, Lyas smiles knowingly. “I built this MacBook as a way for everyone to feel at home, like they were watching a show at home and could express their feelings more freely.” He’s referring to the giant MacBook-like structure – constructed with M.A.C Cosmetics – that serves as both a stage and a screen. “After each show, we had a QR code for people to give a grade out of five stars,” he says. “That’s a way to involve everyone and say that, yeah, you’re allowed to critique a show; it should not be something only a few journalists do, because art is open to interpretation.” It’s a strikingly democratic approach in an industry addicted to exclusivity. “We didn’t want to have any sponsor that’s a big fashion brand, because then it would bias a lot of those opinions,” he says.

Lyas’s commitment to independence is as much philosophical as aesthetic. “It’s always about financing,” he admits. “When you want to make an event that’s free for everyone that stays authentic, finding the right sponsors is tricky, but honestly, we did it.”

The funding may come from partnerships like M.A.C and Vinted, but the ethos is entirely his. “I still had to invest a lot of money from my own pocket,” he adds, “but it’s okay, because I didn’t want to make anyone pay. I wanted the alcohol to be free so everyone could enjoy the experience without thinking, ‘Oh, will that come into budget?’”

He’s stubborn, and proud of it. “There were things I could not compromise on,” he says. “About the alcohol everyone was like, ‘You have to pay for it.’ I said, ‘No, I’m not doing it if you have to pay.’ And the big MacBook, they were like, ‘It’s gonna cost too much.’ I said, ‘Well, then I won’t do it.’ I had a strong vision.”

This dream extends to the next generation too. “It was important to screen [and give exposure to] young designers and emerging brands,” he says. “But that was tricky because a lot of those emerging brands, like Matieres Fecales and Dilara [Findikoglu], for example, they do not have livestreams set up because it costs a lot of money. We had to bring a cameraman there and film the show at our expense, but I think it was important to show this new generation of designers how we incorporate the dream that we all have of fashion.”

“If I would not watch the show at home, I won’t screen it,” he adds flatly – a statement as much about taste as integrity. That sense of integrity is what draws people in. “I was always an insider outsider,” he reflects. “Yes, I’m inside, but I’m not following the rules and do things my own way.”

It’s that outsider energy which shapes La Watchparty’s identity. It’s both high fashion and underground, radical and celebratory. “It’s very intentional,” he says. “From the ashtray to the MacBook to the T-shirts and free alcohol – everything was thought of.”

In Paris, one of his favourite parts of the weekend came on the day of our interview. “I was just at a book signing of [the writer and podcaster] Brenda Hashtag and she told me, ‘Oh, there was this group of five kids that told me they met at La Watchparty.’ That was so beautiful [to hear].”

He pauses, smiling softly. “The first one we did in London, there was this guy who said, ‘I want to go to the event, but I’m alone.’ So I put his comment on my Story. I was like, ‘Guys, make sure he’s not alone,’ and then I see him, wearing red lipstick, at the party. He says, ‘Hey, I wanted to thank you, because now we’ve made an Instagram group of more than 100 people.’ He showed me the 100 people [he had made friends with]; they were all standing there at the party, and all were wearing red lipstick.”

That’s the power of it. Fashion as a social force, a new kind of front row without the velvet rope. “In fashion, we don’t have spaces like this,” he says. “We can go to cocktails and openings, but you have to be on the list. We have no list. You can just come and make friends.”

Beyond friendship, there’s intellect too. “All of them were very conscious about the political aspect of fashion,” he notes. “People had strong opinions about why it was important to have a diverse cast. Everyone was quite aware politically, which I enjoy. The key of great art is if you’re able to comment on it and put it in reflection with what’s happening in society.”

He sees his audience as both participants and critics. “They want something that feels authentic,” he says. “It’s hard to package ‘real’ if you’re a brand, but when it comes from an individual, it’s easier.” That authenticity fuels him. “It was overwhelming at the beginning, but then I got used to it,” he says. “Some people get drained by the energy that it takes to host, but for me, it’s the opposite. I gain energy from it. I could feel it and that fuelled me.”

He flashes a grin when I ask what’s next. “I hope the next watch party will be bigger,” he says. Then, almost singing it: “I’m gonna do January men’s, couture and women’s. I’m gonna do everything, baby.”

Before we log off, I ask him for one line that captures it all. He laughs. “It’s quite refreshing to see so many people smile at a fashion event.” And somehow, even through the screen, that feels exactly right.

Photography by Rafael Martinez. Taken from 10+ Issue 8 – FUTURE, JUBILEE, CELEBRATION – out now. Order your copy here. 

@ly.as