As culture fiends descend on the South of France for the world’s quintessential film festival, Magnum arrives with a handful of firsts: staging its debut fashion show and appointing Law Roach as its first-ever Taste Architect. Wonderland joined for the full experience.

“Of course, darling,” Law Roach tells me, taking his time with every vowel, punctuating the sentence with a hair flick as I ask, coyly, whether Cannes is still the chicest red carpet in the world. Arguably, a lot has changed since its ultimate heyday. From the late 1950s through to the 1990s, the French Riviera and its iconic film festival represented the pinnacle of glamour, producing fashion moments that will be forever etched into the cultural consciousness – Brigitte Bardot running barefoot through the sea in ’56, Jane Birkin in ’74, Elizabeth Taylor and Princess Diana in ’87, Madonna arriving at the premiere of Truth or Dare in Jean Paul Gaultier’s pink satin cone bra in ’91. The list is endless.

But in a world of complete oversaturation, with celebrity culture operating at maximum capacity and the red carpet calendar overflowing with opportunities for fashion’s biggest stars to flex their posing muscles, has Cannes lost some of its mystique? International eyes might think so. Yet it takes all of five minutes after landing on the Riviera for one to realise otherwise. And Roach, everyone’s favourite Image Architect, knows that better than most.

We’re speaking from the very spot where the magic usually happens. Only tonight, the carpet isn’t red. Instead, the padded floor beneath our feet is chocolate brown – fitting, considering our host for the night is ice cream powerhouse Magnum. For the third consecutive year, the brand has taken over Cannes’ storied shoreline, La Croisette, cementing its place as one of the festival’s most recognisable partners. But this year, there’s newness in the air. After centring music in previous editions – staging private shows from Troye Sivan and Charli XCX – Magnum has turned its attention to fashion, bringing its first-ever runway show to the South of France. And who better to steer the project than Roach?

Over the past few months, Zendaya and Ariana Grande’s trusted image curator has been tasked with assembling a group of eight designers from around the world to create exclusive looks inspired by Magnum’s signature flavours. As journalists, guests and friends of the brand disembark on Nice Airport less than 24 hours before the showcase, one question lingers: exactly how many shades of caramel, chocolate and pistachio can be translated into couture before things start feeling too literal?

One thing feels unquestionable: there will be glamour. And lots of it. For the uninitiated, Cannes can sound almost mythical – impossibly French, impossibly chic, populated exclusively by movie stars and their nepo-families. But the city’s charm lies less in its exclusivity than in its commitment to preserving an ideal: a palpable reverence for decades of splendeur and grandeur, borrowed from the golden age of Hollywood and carefully distilled into a seaside European holiday hub that has become the world’s most convincing slash performative spectacle of opulence.

The experience for seasoned journalists on the ground doing the actual Cannes Film Festival reporting heavy lifting isn’t as charming as one would think. There are premiere queues at dawn, aching hands after ten-minute standing ovations, endless speculation over future Oscar contenders and enough Letterboxd recommendations entries to fill the rest of your year. But then comes the privileges earned through years of Riviera apprenticeship – invitations to painfully exclusive afterparties, direct lines to agents and directors, knowledge of which café serves the cheapest aperitivo and where to find a reliable sandwich between screenings.

My own introduction to Cannes looked somewhat different, popping my South of France cherry from the comfort of a bougie hotel room, fuelled largely by truffles, steak and champagne. I wonder if this is what being an actor in the city feels like. Or perhaps, it’s just the difference between fashion and film correspondents. I don’t make the rules.

But in fact, arriving blissfully unprepared may have been the most authentic Cannes experience of all. The region presents the ultimate beginner’s trap: twenty-five degrees and uninterrupted sunshine sound idyllic until the Riviera wind arrives, slicing through bare shoulders with military precision. Of course, I packed almost exclusively outfits requiring exposed clavicles. Hollywood has taught me that outerwear simply doesn’t exist in Cannes.

It turns out it does. It just comes in the form of restaurant blankets, as dinner unfolds al fresco by the sea, cigarette smoke intertwining with oud-heavy fragrances drifting from neighbouring tables. Across from you sits someone dressed head-to-toe in Matthieu Blazy-era Chanel, or Loro Piana, accompanied by the smallest long-haired dog you’ve ever encountered, carried around in what appears to be a custom Goyard tote. As in, fitted to its specific size. How many Birkins cross the Nice airport during Cannes Film Festival week, is what I want to know. The place is VIC central. 

So to say expectations were high as I crossed into the House of Magnum with my golden fashion show ticket in hand would be an understatement. But as the first designer takes to the runway, Liverpool-born capital-letter artisan and certified fashion darling Ethan Leyland, I’m struck by a realisation, midbite through a Magnum La Pistachio (pistachio in Cannes? Groundbreaking). This is a Law Roach passion project. The stakes are high.

Within seconds, Leyland’s model appears in a sculptural brown leather-look gown inspired by Magnum’s original Classic, complete with a golden halo-like structure framing her head. Then, in a theatrical flourish, staff remove the outer layer of the dress to reveal an entirely different look beneath – a pearlescent silk gown in creamy peach tones inspired by the cracks of Magnum’s beloved chocolate shell.

She’s followed by a roster of international talent including Poland’s Maciej Zień, Mexico’s Jesús de la Garsa, the Netherlands’ Marlhan, Spain’s Alejandro Gómez Palomo, France’s Victor Weinsanto, Germany’s Danny Reinke and Turkey’s Raissa Vanessa, each delivering their own interpretation of the brand’s frozen universe. Somehow, the ice cream brief works.For the finale, Roach calls upon longtime friend and collaborator Heidi Klum, who closes the show in a dramatic Raissa Vanessa creation inspired by Magnum Signature La Pistachio. The audience erupts, as expected. 

The relationship between brands and culture has become one of the industry’s favourite talking points of late. Increasingly, audiences can tell when an activation feels forced, when a brand enters a creative space simply because it wants proximity to cool. The results often feel transactional.

But Magnum gets something right here. Rather than imposing itself on fashion, it hands the reins to someone who genuinely understands the industry and allows his creative vision to lead. More importantly, the project places emerging designers at its centre, providing visibility, resources and opportunities that extend beyond a single night on the Riviera.

As Roach and I stand on the carpet following the show, celebrating both a successful debut and his new role as Magnum’s first-ever Taste Architect, we return to our original conversation. Cannes is sugar-coated. It’s theatrical, excessive and gloriously camp. But that’s precisely the point. For 60 hours, I bought into the fantasy entirely. And now, much to my own surprise, I get it. The chicest red carpet in the world? Of course, darling.

Words – Sofia Ferreira