Is the eye fashion’s new territory? A true fashion accessory, contact lenses are capable of transforming a gaze -and sometimes an entire identity- in the blink of an eye

Glasses have never been more desirable. They rank among the standout accessories of recent seasons. The gaze, meanwhile, lends itself to endless experimentation: sometimes enhanced, sometimes concealed. Today, even its color is being altered. Once reserved for costume parties, colored contact lenses have made their way into unexpected spaces -onto runways, into fashion campaigns, and even onto the most coveted red carpets. As if the eye, long spared from radical transformations, had finally entered the realm of trends. A mirror of the soul, the gaze is what makes us instantly recognizable. To transform it, even subtly, is to blur the lines: to remain oneself while becoming someone else.

The market reflects this shift. Rapidly expanding, the colored contact lens segment is keeping pace: according to Market Research Future, it could reach $7.8 billion by 2032. Growth that mirrors a change in use -no longer merely a medical or festive tool, but an extension of one’s wardrobe. On the Oscars red carpet, Kim Kardashian offered a striking example. A figure-hugging, shimmering nude Gucci gown, towering platforms, and above all: azure blue contact lenses. A detail? More like a signature. Her gaze, almost unreal, became the final piece of the look -much like choosing a bag or a pair of sunglasses.

Rick Owens has turned them into something of a ritual obsession. Season after season, he treats the gaze as an area to neutralize or radicalize. Black lenses for his menswear collections: the iris disappears into a dark, unsettling mass. White lenses for his women’s silhouettes: the eye empties out, becoming spectral, ghostlike. In both cases, the gaze ceases to be an anchor. It can no longer be trusted. Because by erasing the iris, one also erases what allows connection. The gaze, usually a vector of empathy, becomes opaque, unreadable. It distances. It unsettles. For Owens, as for others, this is far from anecdotal -it reflects a broader desire to redefine the contours of the human body. In these universes, the approach sometimes goes even further, covering the sclera -the white of the eye- with full-eye lenses. The face loses one of its fundamental reference points. Around it, everything is amplified. Oversized false lashes casting almost artificial shadows, deliberately hollowed dark circles, reddish or purplish tones evoking fatigue, illness, even mutation. At Diesel, Glenn Martens used colored contact lenses in the Fall-Winter 24 collection, creating a disturbing gaze that added an alternative dimension to a show where denim reigned supreme.

Everything contributes to creating hybrid figures, silhouettes that are no longer entirely human -yet not entirely other either. A troubling in-between, where the viewer searches for a point of recognition, in vain. Unlike a garment or an external accessory, the lens operates at the very core of visible identity. It touches the eye -that which looks and that which is looked at. By altering it, designers do not simply change an appearance; they alter the very possibility of connection. A way to provoke, of course, to push beyond the expected. But also to raise a deeper question: what is a human face, if its gaze is no longer human? As if, ultimately, our humanity resided precisely within those two orbits.

In South Korea as in Japan, colored contact lenses are part of everyday life. Known as “circle lenses,” they are slightly larger than the iris, without fully covering the sclera, yet they visually enlarge the eye. The effect is immediate: the gaze appears rounder. An aesthetic directly inspired by manga and Japanese animation, where eyes are hyper-expressive. It is not just about changing color, but about altering the very structure of the gaze. In Japan, they extend the legacy of the “kawaii” aesthetic, where youth, softness, and a form of innocence are celebrated. In South Korea, they align with omnipresent beauty standards, heavily influenced by K-pop idols. The gaze is meticulously crafted: makeup, sometimes surgery, and of course lenses. But their use goes further. In neighborhoods like Harajuku in Tokyo, or in Seoul, contact lenses become a tool for full-fledged identity experimentation. They accompany highly constructed silhouettes, sometimes bordering on costume, where every detail matters.

Somewhere between beauty accessory and real-life filter, lenses are part of a broader phenomenon: that of an augmented aesthetic, where one seeks to resemble an idealized -even fictional- version of oneself. A logic that echoes social media and its transformation tools, but transposed into reality. Whether a subtle detail or a bold visual statement, contact lenses have become a space for experimentation. They no longer simply correct vision -they redefine the way we present ourselves to the world.