CONTEMPORARY CULTURE

Inside Natasha Zinko’s Panopticon Runway: Celebrity Stunts, Surveillance, and an OnlyFans Debut

2–4 minutes

On September 18, 2026, designer Natasha Zinko transformed Collins Music Hall, a subterranean brutalist space and former music hall in Islington, into a structural study of modern voyeurism. Titled “Pay Per View,” her Spring/Summer 2027 presentation discarded the traditional linear catwalk in favor of an architectural setup modeled after Jeremy Bentham and Michel Foucault’s panopticon prison concept. Instead of processing down a central strip, models and performers occupied stacked mezzanine viewing boxes, windows, and perimeter balconies, while attendees gathered in the center pit, cast in the dual role of jailers and spectators gazing upward.

The show, which also marked the platform OnlyFans’ formal London Fashion Week debut, turned standard fashion choreography into a chaotic series of vignettes. The presentation opened without models, introducing an Italian male opera singer who performed a cappella from a high mezzanine box dressed in a bright pink cleaner’s overall and rubber cleaning gloves. In surrounding cubicles, talent-driven performers engaged in unchoreographed acts that ranged from live pole dancing and public kissing to smoking real cigarettes and depicting cultural tropes such as cowboys, sailors, footballers, American Psycho archetypes, and clinical hospital staff.

Zinko’s high-profile guest casting leaned heavily on figures known for monetizing visibility. Media personality Katie Price made her first fashion week runway appearance since 2015, posing inside an elevated mezzanine display box in a black lingerie-inspired mini dress before walking the floor in a tailored cropped black V-neck waistcoat and satin micro hotpants. Speaking backstage, Price summarized the staging with the remark, “Sex sells,” noting that the installation felt identical to posing at a photo shoot. Elsewhere, actress and OnlyFans creator Drea de Matteo occupied a viewing box beside a personalized director’s chair, smoking a cigarette in a champagne-toned velvet and trench-coat ensemble with aviator sunglasses. Kelly Osbourne took to the floor with chalk-white painted skin and a side-swept black bob wig channeling 2000s emo styling, wearing a white halterneck waistcoat, a black bow tie, and a pencil skirt. Her outfit was finished with a bat-shaped necklace, an explicit nod to her father Ozzy Osbourne’s 1982 incident on stage.

Erratic spotlights swept across the multi-tiered boxes, forcing the audience to continually pivot and choose where to look, a mechanic designed to mimic the fragmented feeds of digital video algorithms. This atmosphere, which critics described as wavering between an opera house, a live stream, and a red-light peep show, had a marked effect on how the clothing was received. The combination of rapid lighting changes, cigarette smoke, and deep mezzanine cutouts reduced the crowd’s capacity to inspect garment construction, fabric textures, and silhouettes up close. Instead, the 42 total looks, blending bulbous corsetry, sheer latex, and dresses crafted with wilted roses, functioned primarily as narrative signifiers of modern personas.

Media reaction splintered along predictable lines. Tabloid outlets fixated on celebrity narratives, zeroing in on Price’s cosmetic surgeries and Osbourne’s rock-history tribute. Meanwhile, specialist fashion and cultural critics unpacked the conceptual tension between Foucault’s surveillance theories and modern commercial mechanisms. Commentators noted that while the production offered a commentary on algorithmic voyeurism and the loss of privacy, it was also bound to immediate commercial ends. Backed by OnlyFans, which co-sponsored the event alongside an 18-piece capsule featuring “ONLY FANZ” and “Pay for View” branding, the spectacle concluded with the instant availability of branded hoodies, caps, and shorts, cementing the show as both a critique and an active participant in surveillance capitalism.


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