Last week, this article in the Financial Times announced yet another Margiela auction hosted by Kerry Taylor and Maurice Auctions, slotted for July 9. This time, the collection on the block is from the man himself: Martin Margiela is selling his personal archive, with the full catalogue to come in the next few weeks. The auction will be accompanied by a preview exhibition sometime in June, at a yet-to-be-announced location.

The announcement spurred some discourse, with a number of commenters lamenting that these objects are to be sold privately rather than donated to a museum. I have complicated feelings about the role of fashion in the museum, but I am sympathetic to these concerns; if last year’s The Early Years auction is any signal, we can expect some eyewatering hammer prices for these lots, at numbers that will outpace what most museums will be able to bid, and objects that will disappear into private collections and receive no further public documentation. Ultimately, the reality is that this auction is likely to be completely price inaccessible to the vast majority of us – unless there are some very small ticket items, it seems unlikely much goes under 1000 euro. This is a problem, as fashion history (especially unique fashion objects, like many of these will be) encroaches on the territory of the art world as a playground for the ultra-rich. But auctions also provide a useful educational resource, especially ones like this that garner extensive press coverage. Already, that FT article provides some insights into Martin’s working process and into his highly-concealed contemporary personal life, and surely more will come once we see the full auction catalogue and accompanying text descriptions. Promotional as they may be, the professionalism of houses like these auctioneers means these texts are well-researched and often publicize previously-unknown information, especially in a case like this, where the auction houses are working directly with the designer himself. So, despite the discourse, I am very eager to see what information is revealed over the course of the coming weeks.

On to some listings:

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There are two versions of the coat, the sleeveless one, and one with a full denim jacket. For the latter, Margiela nipped the waist and darted the elbows, bringing it closer to the body. It was not his first time using denim, nor his first with vintage. But by opening a show with a garment made from vintage denim, its prominence signaled he was au fait with the growing interest in old denim, its multi-hued indigo shades being difficult to convincingly achieve via industrialization. By the mid Eighties, Levi’s Big E’s and red line selvedge jeans were commanding hefty prices, especially in Japan. Having the “perfect pair” was de rigueur for any with-it trendy by 1989.

Although denim had been invented in 17th century France, hard wearing jeans were taken from America’s farmland and donned by city bobbysoxers in the 1940s. They acquired a more rebellious connotation when Marlon Brando struck a hot and heavy pose in black leather on a motorbike in the 1950s, a look which dove tailed with the sweaty stirrings of early Rock and Roll. Faded flares, their hems chewed up from muddy festivals, meant you had hippie kudos by 1968. In the Seventies, they meant sex. Diana Ross and Cher, fitted to a T in 501s, fans blowing at Scavullo’s studio, the gay clones of San Francisco and New York leaving their button fly partially undone, and UK punks brutally upending the decade’s start of patch and mend with slash and destroy aesthetics leaving glimpses of skinny legs on view.

By the 1980s, a pair of well worn jeans were an indispensable garment of style, chic with red lips and heels, Brooke Shields striking awkwardly suggestive poses while cooing about her Calvin’s on TV (Calvin Klein was first to show jeans on the catwalk in 1976). Later in the decade, the smiley faces and rainbow appliqués of the early Seventies returned to denim, propelled by the chemical highs of Acid House and fashion’s penchant for resurrecting the styles of twenty years prior. And that’s where Margiela came in, bang on time with a brand new/retro look, the denim of yesterday refashioned for today. The patchouli said it all.

The look resonated. Junya Watanabe was first with trailing patchwork denim coats in his Fall/Winter 1992 collection. Gaultier, with whom Margiela worked from 1984 to 1987, followed with pieces made from vintage denim in his now famous “Tattoo” collection of Spring/Summer 1994 (a pair of upside down jeans reworked into cropped bolero being particularly striking). No such deconstructionist impulses at Helmut Lang, however. Just a pair of washed blue jeans dabbed with white paint in his men’s Spring/Summer 1998 collection, a look undoubtedly inspired by the newly rich art stars roaming the streets of Soho circa 1984

The vogue for artisanal denim on the runway cooled in the early 2000s, with Rick Owens trashed jeans at Revillon (F/W 2003) and Hannah MacGibbon’s reworked pieces at Chloé (S/S 2010) being exceptions. Stylists were undeterred, with old denim sourced from thrift stores and vintage showrooms showing up in their editorials. But it was Vetements, the design collective whose resumes included stints at Maison Margiela, who reignited fashion’s interest in upcycled denim. Their reassembled jeans from Fall/Winter 2014, with their down and dirty jagged hems, sparked a trend all the way to Givenchy on Avenue Montaigne. With old denim relatively easy to source, brands both big and small often explore its fabrication potential. At Marine Serre, where upcycling is at the heart of the brand, old denim (off cuts, pre-worn, dead stock, etc.) are in nearly every collection. CDLM, TRE Natalie Ratabesi, and SC103 reworked garments show an impressive diversification of styles. And Coach’s recent Spring/Summer 2026 collection featured a floor length coat in two-tone black denim, a style imbued with the patchouli scented spirit of Margiela’s original all those years ago.

Last week, London store La Nausee held a popup at the New York store &Sons. La Nausee is one of my favorite stores online – they’re well-researched, well-curated, and well-styled – and though the popup ended Monday, I think an event like this bears some note because these international popups are really valuable. While the US is a major fashion market, we often forget that we exist in a weird position relative to the hegemony of the European fashion system, and so much of the physical evidence of that fashion system exists in Europe. Sites like Vinted that are region-locked to Europe make accessing that material difficult for those of us in the States, so events like this, that bring a trove of A+ garments across the pond, help to break down that barrier to access.

This week also launched the Spring sale for another of my favorite European resale stores, Backyardarchive. BYA is the premier dealer for old Haider Ackermann at this point, a market which has been… in a weird place. Following the quiet shuttering of his eponymous label the secondhand interest in Haider was virtually nonexistent, but with the clothes held largely by sellers who would not budge on prices, so the market just locked up. I expected to see more of an increase in interest after his first few highly-lauded collections for Tom Ford, but it has not really materialized, though I have seen some early signs that it is coming now. But in the meantime, the discounts on this sale are pretty extensive, and things are selling fast, so this might be a good time to get in on Haider before it starts to get expensive again.

Onto the listings:

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Mass production in fashion didn’t happen overnight. It took decades to build. Once it arrived, it rewired our relationship to clothing almost instantly. We moved from garments made for bodies to garments made for systems. Overproduction and disposability followed. Some resisted, others surrendered, but resistance was never going to win against speed and scale.

And as with everything, the moment something becomes dominant, its opposite begins to form. In response to fast fashion came slow production, but also something else. The need to justify.

I was taught in design school that every decision needed a reason. A why. A backstory. An explanation for the shape, the color, the material. At its best, this discipline gives structure. At its worst, it becomes a tool to disguise weak design. A way to intellectualize what doesn’t hold up on its own.

That is where things begin to blur.

In our attempt to counter the emptiness of overproduction—not just in fashion, but in life—we began to overcorrect. We started to conceptualize everything: the products we consume as extensions of the identities we want to project, and in turn, as signals of the belonging we seek. What we buy is no longer just about the result, but about what it says, what it aligns us with, and who it places us next to.

Are you team Rhode or team Rare? Do you belong to the Rick Owens universe, or are you part of the Miu Miu crowd? And what does that actually say about you, beyond whether you like the product?

Ours is a culture obsessed with curation, and in doing so, we seem to have lost the ability to separate the story from the thing itself. The narrative begins to outweigh the garment; words start to eclipse quality, durability, even wearability.

We have gone so deep into ecosystems, missions, and storytelling that the object itself becomes secondary. Not always, but often enough to notice. We do not need more clothes, more brands, more products. And yet, attach the right story to something, and suddenly it feels necessary.

A meme I came across captured this perfectly. It mapped how people think about fashion in levels. At the entry point, clothes should be wearable. As you go deeper, they become art, concept, statement. And at the highest level, you return to the beginning. Clothes should be wearable.

This mirrors another idea. The more you know about fashion, the “worse” you dress. At first, you don’t know the rules, so you wear whatever you want. Then you learn everything. Color theory, construction, references, history. You analyze, refine, control. And eventually, you circle back. Except now, freedom comes from knowledge, not ignorance. To break the rules, you have to understand them.

It is easy to see how intention became so important. If everything has already been done, or feels like it has, then meaning becomes the differentiator: What inspires the piece; What justifies its existence.

“This emphasis on process over product, or perhaps more accurately, on process as product, is justified on the straightforward basis of inverting capitalism’s predilection for the contrary.” ​​— Claire Bishop, Artificial Hells: Participatory Art and the Politics of Spectatorship (2012)

The logic holds. Until it doesn’t.

When we invest time, effort, or pain into something, we need to believe it was worth it. Otherwise, we experience discomfort. Process becomes value. The time it took. The difficulty. The access. This is why certain luxury systems work. Not just because of the object, but because of the path required to obtain it. The product becomes proof of endurance.

Process embeds itself into desire.

We see this most clearly in couture, which is perhaps the only reason the ongoing debate of whether fashion is art even exists. Couture operates as the epitome of everything that inhabits the fashion sphere, or even, arguably, the world itself. In order to justify the absurd price point of a single garment—one that makes luxury ready-to-wear feel almost negligible—you must construct an airtight, elevated atmosphere around it. In this sense, couture becomes the ultimate expression of storytelling through fabric.

Even the term itself is deliberately inaccessible, reinforcing the idea of effort, exclusivity, and discipline as part of the reward. For something to be considered haute couture, it must adhere to strict criteria set by the Fédération de la Haute Couture et de la Mode: the house must be based in Paris, maintain a dedicated atelier with a minimum number of full-time artisans, produce made-to-measure garments for private clients with multiple fittings, and present two collections per year during the official couture calendar. As of now, there are only around sixteen to eighteen houses that meet these standards.

To operate within this system, you must also understand and mobilize references—historical, cultural, and artistic—which are then translated into intricate, often dreamlike garments. Matthieu Blazy’s first haute couture show for Chanel leaned into this, presenting an unusually strong focus on daywear. The collection drew from a poem, and from the very principle that founded the house: to create clothes for women to live in—“to go to work, to go to a play, the cinema, whatever.”

Blazy described the starting point as an accidental haiku about a bird and a mushroom. “I thought it was so beautiful, so short, and I was wondering, can I tell a story with those three lines?” he said. And unsurprisingly, he did. The story becomes inseparable from the garment, and when executed well, it is powerful. It elevates the object beyond itself.

But this is also where the tension begins.

Couture is often positioned as the point where fashion becomes art, where function is not only secondary but sometimes intentionally discarded. And when intention itself becomes the product, it becomes easier to manipulate. Like anything overused, it begins to lose weight. Meaning turns into a shield: a way to justify what is otherwise unremarkable. A simple T-shirt upheld not by cut, fabric, or construction, but by a paragraph explaining why it matters.

So what are we actually being sold? Not couture itself, but the machinery of luxury that surrounds it. By now, we understand that price does not necessarily reflect fair wages—not for internal teams, and certainly not for external manufacturing or material sourcing.

Consumers are increasingly turning to vintage, not out of nostalgia, but out of logic. Better quality. More honest pricing. Garments that have already proven their longevity. And in many cases, a form of real scarcity—not one manufactured through marketing.

The narrative bubble is starting to crack. But the issue is not meaning itself. It is excess. Meaning stretched past its limit, until it no longer holds. Clothes can carry intention. They should. But intention cannot replace construction. At some point, this stops being about meaning and starts resembling something closer to jouissance. The inability to stop. Producing and justifying, even when the object no longer sustains it.

The question is no longer what something means, but whether it can exist without explanation.

Hello! Welcome to Material Wealth, ARCHIVE.pdf’s semi-weekly newsletter where we curate listings from the fashion secondhand market across websites, countries, and brands for your convenience. As we have continued our archiving practice, we have been looking for more ways to foreground the materiality of fashion; at the end of the day, the final fashion product is the garment. I don’t want to let these scans just be images – they capture incredibly designed objects that you yourself can own, often for reasonable prices. This newsletter will function as one of our steps in that direction, with the goal of helping you buy the things you see in the scan library on our website and Instagram, and getting them off of the moodboard and into your daily lives.

I will be the primary author of this column. My name is Chris Ziebert, and I serve as Editor-in-Chief of ARCHIVE.pdf. I am a seller myself (though I promise not to shill any of my own wares here) and have spent an inordinate amount of time learning the secondary markets of the brands I care about, and I want to bring those clothes to you.

A big inspiration behind this newsletter is friend of ARCHIVE.pdf Sami Reiss’ ’ SNAKE, where he trawls LiveAuctioneers for the best upcoming auctions for great pieces of furniture and decor design history. Though we work in different fields of design, we echo the base assumption behind Sami’s newsletter: the most efficient and effective way of getting great design into your life is through secondhand. But the whole of the secondhand market is overwhelming, and I hope that this newsletter will ease navigating it, and help get some of these clothes into your closet.

A final note, before we get to the listings: I will be pulling listings from secondhand websites around the world, some of which are region-locked and require a proxy. There have been countless guides written on proxying from abroad (most especially from Japan, but from European websites like Vinted as well), so I will begin by operating under the assumption that you have access to one of those, but if there is demand for an official ARCHIVE.pdf guide to proxying, please sound off in the comments and I will put something together.

Below the paywall, you will find some great Raf Calvin Klein, Helmut Lang, a big Hermes auction, and a ton of Belgian fashion.

And with that, on to:

MATERIAL WEALTH 1: Buying Against the Trend

Part of the motivation behind this newsletter is to encourage a different way of thinking about fashion than the seasonal commercial schedule, and making this about getting good designs into your life rather than keeping up with whatever trend cycle. This feels especially urgent now that trend cycles have come to dominate so much of the secondhand market, with whole brand’s markets rising and falling depending on their position relative to the current season’s runways. I would not touch Hedi right now because those prices are the highest they have ever been. It has become reasonably difficult to buy old Rick now as well, for much the same reason. So instead, we think about what we can take advantage of, and there are always plenty. Lang is on the upswing, but not really at the peak it reached at the beginning of the archive craze in the 2000s, and there is so much that goes overlooked that you can always find deals. Right now, the Demnalenciaga hype is dying down, which is bringing a sell-off of a lot of great Balenciaga and Vetements for buying the dip (I won’t cover this too much this week, but maybe next time). The point is: if you buy the good stuff that everyone is busy forgetting about, you can accumulate some really special things for the lowest their prices will get.

But into the listings. First off, a couple of bigger collections. Kerry Taylor and Maurice Auctions are hosting one of their collaborative sales on Thursday, with a lot of very good, very bourgeois womenswear. The highlights for me are the Hermes by Nadege Vanhee lots, of which there are a good number. The market for Hermes RTW is quite small, and the most hype gets directed at Margiela’s tenure (the auction also has one of Margiela’s best designs for the house, a double-layered cashmere coat from Autumn/Winter 1999), but Nadege’s work has been consistently very good and much cooler than one would normally associate with Hermes. These kinds of auctions frequently shoot very high, but some things will slip under the radar, so I will be interested to see what the hammer prices on those pieces are.

Over the past few months, this seller on Yahoo!Japan has been trickling out his extensive Lang collection via auction. A few things have gone very high, with the peak reached by the leather flak jacket from Autumn/Winter 1999, but a lot of less-grailworthy pieces have ended at more responsible numbers. At this point, it is mostly tailoring and shirting – good for wedding season, graduations, etc. I will warn that of the handful of things I have bought from this seller, there have been some alterations I needed to let out; it seems like this seller was just buying sizes blindly and altering them to fit, but most are reversible, and some of these things are priced well enough to be worth the gamble.

So long as we are talking about Helmut: Tokio7 recently price dropped their S/S 04 “Dragonfly” (size 42, $784) leather jacket, which is a real all-timer for me – if it were a size larger I would probably have bought it already. They also have the white version of the same jacket, with a slightly different set of details, in-store for the New York readers. I love 2000s Lang because it dispels for me a lot of the “minimalist” description; while Lang was pared down, he got very complex at times, and S/S ‘04 is one of the best collections for capturing that under-discussed part of his work.

A few more Helmut listings:

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Born in Vienna, CSM MA student Luca Fabry finds himself increasingly frustrated with the fashion industry’s increasing prioritization of image over design acumen. “I started thinking: what does fashion mean to me? How do I consume fashion? For me, it’s something very wearable. It’s about a wardrobe, things people actually need and wear in everyday life.

“From that, my research began with creating a wardrobe built from archetypes: tank tops, dresses, shirts, tailored jackets. I was particularly inspired by military garments because of their functional aspect. But at the same time, I wanted to push construction and really focus on how garments are made, with a strong attention to detail.”

The first page of Fabry’s portfolio shows a desk – an aluminium folding desk originally designed for the US Army. The desk is simple, in raw metal, with three recessed-handled drawers and thin, angular legs. “It’s beautifully made, but also completely functional – it folds into a compact cube. For me, it represents this idea of beauty and function existing together.” Those military inspirations carry through into the garments, with form following function all the way through into the minute finishing details of the pieces.

Fabry’s project proposes a wardrobe grounded in everyday use, built from simple garments that already exist in most wardrobes: tank tops, shirts, dresses, and trousers. The garments have precise finishings, with clear intentions, but are often modular, leaving the final steps of the design process up to the wearer’s intuition. “The line between men’s and women’s clothing is blurred, with ideas shared across the boundary with only slight adjustments in cut or closure.

Fabry’s position is clear from the first look: a white curved hem tank in cotton airtex – a light, breathable technical cotton – paired with matching leggings Fabry calls “modular longjohns,” with a cutout at the knee that leaves the lower leg trailing behind the model. It is a stark proposal — all white, only two pieces, light styling — one which stands in immediate contrast to the remainder of the CSM MA collections.

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By Chris Ziebert

It is no stretch to say that ModeMuseum Antwerp (MoMu) exists because of the Antwerp Six. They are, alongside Margiela, the foundation of the contemporary Belgian fashion identity, and the reason that Antwerp’s Royal Academy holds such great prestige in the industry today. This year, the museum finally took on that legacy with the much-anticipated Antwerp Six exhibition, curated by Kaat Debo and Romy Cockx and guest curated by the Six’s guiding hand Geert Bruloot. The exhibition opened to the public on Saturday, March 28, following an opening reception on Friday night that brought every big name in the Antwerp fashion scene to the museum.

The exhibition celebrates the 40th anniversary of the Six’s international breakthrough, which began at the British Designer Show in London. Walter Van Beirendonck, Dirk Bikkembergs, Dries Van Noten, Dirk Van Saene, and Marina Yee, along with a sunglasses collection sent by a then-pregnant Ann Demeulemeester, crossed the English channel to begin a story which has now been firmly stitched into the fabric of fashion history.

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By Wonne Scrayen

A diamond in the rough. That is probably the most accurate description of Fondazione ITS (International Talent Support), especially in an industry as fierce as fashion. Barbara Franchini, the founder and driving force, was resolute in her vision from the very start, making her one of the few voices who acknowledge and invest in the potential of young designers before any industry recognition. With ITS, Barbara Franchini has carved out a unique environment where creativity can thrive in its purest form.

Fondazione ITS can be broken down into two main pillars: the ITS ‘Arcademy’ and the annual ITS Contest.

The Contest

Established in 2002, the ITS Contest is on its 24th edition this year. As is customary, the contest spotlights ten designers between the ages of 22 and 33. This year’s finalists were the outcome of a thorough deep dive into no less than 740 portfolios submitted from across 70+ countries. This in itself shows both the scope of and the effort put into this initiative, as well as its position at large within the field of fashion. The formula ensures all ten finalists take home the same prize of 10.000 euros (I:C 10x10x10 Award 2026), avoiding much of the competitiveness and pressure of other fashion competitions.

“What I love about ITS is how well they chose [the finalists]. Each of the finalists has their speciality; there is a real sense of camaraderie. And because of this, they will be able to support each other over the years, when, for example, they need a good embroiderer or fabric maker. Almost like its own little ecosystem, something I didn’t anticipate.”

-Dana Thomas [author and jury member]

Especially noteworthy is ITS’ two-fold approach, allowing designers to express their creativity to the fullest whilst helping them navigate the industry. They receive advice from Barbara and the jury members, industry professionals encountered during the workshops, archive visits, and masterclasses as part of the ten-day residency. The ITS entourage offers these designers much-needed tools to venture into professional life, tools often insufficiently, or not at all, provided in fashion education. This resonated throughout the one-on-one conversations with the finalists.

In this transition period in their lives, things can be hard enough for emerging designers. And so, coming to Trieste, there is only one favor Barbara will ask for, from both jury and press: “Offer them a smile. You have a whole life ahead in which you can criticize them; for now, be gentle and kind with them.”

Sign of the Times

This year’s theme, “Rise and Shine,” touches upon the sensitivities of the current climate. As Barbara Franchini herself put it ahead of the finalists’ presentation: “This has been a particularly special year. Never was it so political. These are young people well aware of what is happening in the world.” And not only are they aware, but they try to offer an alternative or counterweight to the impasse the world and their generation is facing.

“The realities of the world have definitely struck this generation compared to mine. Maybe because it is so difficult to launch a brand now, with the world being so volatile and scary. There are fewer this year pursuing an immediate launch of their own brand, which seems to be a shift. They are happy to work at houses, even if it’s difficult, and interning can be quite thankless. They have a patience I certainly didn’t have. I wanted to launch immediately and felt I had the skill set and potential to do that. Where they now seem to have different priorities, which I admire a lot and made me reflect on myself and the choices I made. It has been good to come back and converse with everyone.”

-Maximilian Raynor [2025 Jury Special Mention winner and jury member]

Give and Take

The panel of jury members is well-rounded and well-curated, with some familiar names and others less straightforwardly tied to fashion. And as much as the designers learn and grow from the feedback they receive, the jury members, in turn, learn from the designers’ unique voices and the overall ITS experience.

“This experience confirmed how passionate people are about fashion. Not just designers, but also someone like Barbara; she would go to war for these kids. I want to make sure I retain the same passion she has. She wants to ensure it is the best possible experience, which is very rare to come by. In fashion, people tend to lose this human element. But not Barbara.”

-Hanan Bešović [fashion commentator and jury member]

“My time here has confirmed that I want to be more focused on emerging designers. In the fashion industry, when you’ve been in it for a long time, you can become incredibly jaded. That’s why I like to do things outside of it, too. When you go to the shows now, people rush out as soon as it’s over. I still go with a notebook and write things down, to really try and pay attention. So seeing the passion and love that these young people have has reminded me why I am in this in the first place. Not to become that bored person who runs out at the end, but really appreciate the beauty, joy, craft, and the emotion that is invested in the creation that is whizzing by me. I try to spotlight new talent in my Substack newsletter, ‘The Style Files’. This season, I did a handful, but who knows, maybe next season I might only do that, go to as many of the young designers and show what you don’t see on Instagram. It is a whole different fashion week going on than the one you normally see. I might make it my mission. To not just wait until designers have their breakout, but see it coming and catalogue it.”

-Dana Thomas

Lay of the Land

Ahead of the two days when the press and international guests join the ITS family, the finalists have just completed their ten-day residency in Trieste. The Italian setting in Trieste is mentioned more than once as contributing to the platform’s genuine and authentic spirit. It recurred when conversing with both the jury and the designers, how the cultural atmosphere shaped them and their work before arriving, as well as the lasting impact after their ten-day stay.

“The context in Italy is very different from the one in Antwerp. Here, there is a strong focus on storytelling, whereas at the Royal Academy, it’s all about aesthetics and conceptualism. I soon realized I had to adapt how I presented my portfolio for it to resonate within this novel context.”

--Chloë Reners [finalist from Belgium, 2026 Jury Special Mention winner]

“Before we presented, I was told Italians love the storytelling element, and that I should really sell my story. Immediately, I could tell from their faces that they got it. Of course, the collection is not for everyone; fashion is subjective. But I could see that people I wasn’t expecting to get it, got it. That meant a lot to me. There’s something in the Italian air that made that come to be.”

-Anna Maria Vescovi [finalist from the United States]

First-hand speaking to the finalists, it was also noticeable how many of them almost found themselves here by coincidence or arriving with a still overwhelming sense of self-doubt:

“I had this idea, which in hindsight was completely wrong, that they wanted something more visually striking than what I did, more traditional glamour fashion. I was so surprised to be in the first selection round, and even more when I was announced as one of the finalists. I had a lot of questions coming here, and in the past two weeks, I’ve found a lot of answers. The main lesson for me is to be more confident, to stop doubting myself every step of the way. To accept and acknowledge that what I design can have an impact on people.”

-Darius Betschart [finalist from France]

“When you’re working on a collection in your bubble at school, it’s intense, emotional, you’re not sleeping, not eating, and you think to yourself, Why am I doing this? Who’s going to care? And then, a year later, I saw how people from both fashion and non-fashion backgrounds could appreciate my work. That truly hit home. It’s a feeling I know I’ll carry with me forever, to be able to stop and see how my work does, in fact, resonate.”

-Anna Maria Vescovi

Maximilian Raynor, last year’s Jury Special Mention and this year’s jury member, found himself struck by the confidence of the group in front of him:

“This year’s projects were extremely impressive and individual. We were unanimous on that final ten. They arrived with a confidence I have not seen among my peers in a while. Compared to my year, they seemed a lot more settled, happy, and patient. That’s been a unique characteristic of this cohort. I almost felt doubly proud to see how they have made it through the whole selection process. I was able to see even more clearly how well we did as the ten finalists last year. To actually see what it took to get seen and appreciated.

Europeans generally struggle with self-praise, and I did for a very long time, too. I wanted to feel confident, but I was so fearful of feeling deluded or delusional. To be told that your work has merit by some of the leading industry voices can only be a good thing for your self-confidence in the sense of self-worth. If there is one thing we can offer at ITS, it’s validation, support, and praise so that these young designers–if they didn’t feel it themselves already–can step away and feel they have achieved something.”

ITS 2026 Finalists

A glimpse into the design processes and concepts behind this year’s final ten:

Darius Betschart [France] - ‘Bakken’

“I asked myself what the wardrobe on the edges of capitalism looks like. Capitalism is the system we exist in, but that doesn’t mean we can’t question it. That’s the least we can do. For this, I linked undocumented subcultures back to historical, specifically medieval feudal references, all tied to the idea of privilege and spectacle. Questioning whether it’s a real, genuine attitude or if it’s all calculated.”

Steven Chevallier [France] - ‘Out Rage’

“Besides fashion, I love to paint and draw; it’s a part of my personality. That’s why I chose to do knitwear, as it’s very graphic and textural. The color aspect emerged during my time in London, studying at Central Saint Martins. Back in Paris, everything was very black and elegant; living in London really opened my mind. It showed me that you can wear texture and that color doesn’t mean bad taste. Color can be elegant too.”

Yi Ding [China] - ‘Faded Paper’

“As I was doing research, I realized my passion for old items, particularly the storytelling behind them. Back in China, I further explored my own culture, collecting old embroidery pieces I found in the countryside and talking to the handicraft women. This is how I met this woman who owns a papercutting store. Deeply inspired by her, I felt like I needed to do something to spread her voice, but in my own way. This was the start of my paper-cutting collection”

Jamie O’Grady [United Kingdom] - ‘SubTraction’

“To make good products, it’s not about adding more but about taking the simplest and enhancing it. I quite like the idea of one thing and it being the best. If I don’t have my own brand, I just want to be recognized as a designer who doesn’t blindly follow trends.”

William Palmer [United Kingdom] - ‘The Breadwinner’

“There might be a personal experience in my life that will trigger something, which gets me thinking about a concept around it. The breadwinner, for example, emerged at a time when I myself was feeling this financial pressure. I then started to reflect on it in the broader context of society: the breadwinner in relation to money. Another core part of the DNA revolves around masculinity and recreating my type of manliness, which is more emotionally expressive and sensitive than what is considered the norm.”

Stan Peeters [Belgium] - ‘The body is a Pavilion’

“This collection is intentionally less experimental in terms of material, but really focused on a specific cut and shape. Through my sculptural and architectural vision, I try to push recognizable garments, such as a bomber jacket, further yet without over-designing them. It’s those simple lines that I try to incorporate into traditional garments. Finding a cohesive balance is key for me. If you look at my work, I don’t want you to be overwhelmed by too much going on. I mainly look for beauty in those architectural lines and organic shapes, which, in the end, form the core of the collection.”

Chloë Reners [Belgium] - ‘Dot Dot Dot’

“The summer I was doing research, I became obsessed with the artist George Underwood. Not so much the surreal image, more so the imaginary aspect. I noticed how we as women are always depicted so stereotypically. Even when you don’t necessarily see that it is a human being, by the use of certain shapes, you just know that it is a woman. Seeing all this leads to a very distorted image of women, which is very prominent in society, especially in the fashion industry. That’s where everything started, this idea of what is real, what is fake, and what is imposed. Looking at family photos, for example, I started paying attention to postures. And something that recurred time and time again was this twisted shape to create a snatched waist, which I then translated literally into the silhouettes.”

Tidjane Tall [France] -‘Resonance in the Room’

“I always wanted to question the premise of elegance being chic. During my research, I saw a lot of things that I felt were not meant for me to be seen; I was not the target audience. From an identity point of view, I was inspired and intrigued by how the black body and the ordinary can hold something elegant and effortless. With this collection, and my work in general, I want to show there’s another possibility. We see elegance often just in terms of color, either black or white, or through a Eurocentric lens, very small and limited. Whereas I think things that look too much can have a sense of effortlessness coming from elsewhere. Each silhouette has its own story. Effortlessness, to me, is about thinking about just you, and not everyone else. To not care about others, but to just do.”

Anna Maria Vescovi [United States] - ‘Requiem’

“A lot of the techniques that I saw during my archival work at the Opéra Garnier, you don’t really see in jewellery today, because of all the machinery and technology that has come out, making jewellery easier. Back then, everything was done by hand. I could translate these techniques to textiles and jewellery for the collection because they are quite basic in craftsmanship, in the sense that they are feasible without crazy machinery. All I needed was a needle, thread, pliers, and some inspiration, really, and that was it. The textiles bring you through the story. For example, one particular piece in black chiffon semi-sheer on top and underneath, I’ve embroidered in gold lurex. In the light, you can see there’s something there, but from a distance, you can’t see it. It plays on this idea that we all carry secrets, told through the narrative of the textile.”

Wenji Wu [China] - ‘Night Terrors’

“Growing up, I lived with my grandparents, because of that, I always felt more mature. Later on, I kept thinking back to my childhood, reflecting on age and wrinkles, how they are tied to time and also have this fading effect. I love things that are constantly changing, such as light. And that’s also what I look for in my designs, for the clothes to be ever-changing. For this one knit [second photo], for example, I brushed up the mohair, as if the monster were launching the magic.”

ITS Through the Words of the Jury

“Not only does ITS give you the opportunity to show your work, but most of all, it puts you in contact with so many different players in the industry who will help you throughout your career. It’s a family you can always go back to. It is authentic, so many of these competitions around the world are not. Deanna has been here since the first edition. She has been part of many other juries, such as Hyères, but what she genuinely feels here is the work ITS does, especially in those first years. They went around the world to the most remote places and found creative talent in fashion schools that hardly anybody knew about. That sort of sourcing doesn’t happen anywhere else. Even those on the jury always have the opportunity to learn something new, like a portfolio from a school you might have never heard of.

-Deanna Ferretti [founder Miss Deanna and co-founder Modateca Deanna] and Sonia Veroni [director of the Master’s in Creative Knitwear Design of Accademia Costume & Moda]

“ITS has given me the start of my recognition outside of London. I have made a name for myself in the small, small fashion scene that is London. But you come over to Paris or Milan, and you’re completely unknown. ITS has given me the chance to match the momentum I had in London here in Italy. It offered me the chance to network and speak with people I had admired for many years. What ITS does for people is help to cement relationships, and that’s the most valuable thing. Apart from the 10.000 euros all of us finalists won, I didn’t receive any further cash injection. But what it means to win is far more valuable than five grand that can be gone in a few months. It’s an intangible, unspoken stamp of approval that will last a lifetime.

I look back very fondly at my own time here last year. And coming back has been just as joyful and life-enriching. Barbara and the whole behind-the-scenes team are true powerhouses. They lead with joy and emotion, which is why I’m so glad to return. Many of the things I’ve participated in come from a sort of stale or cold position. At times, there can be this patronizing tone in the industry, whereas ITS is the complete opposite. They speak to you with admiration, saying how they feel inspired by you and the voice that you bring. That’s why I hope to come back every year.”

-Maximilian Raynor

ITS Arcademy - Museum of Art in Fashion

And then there is the ITS Arcademy–a blend of Art, Archive, and Academy–located in what was once Trieste’s bank headquarters.

On show at the museum as of right now is EXPOSURE–The Power of Being Seen, curated by jury member, stylist, and fashion consultant Tom Eerebout. This exhibition is one of the first of its kind, highlighting the craft and fashion language of styling. Apart from iconic looks by Tom Eerebout, a result of his creative dialogue with celebrities he has worked with, the exhibition also features work by former ITS finalists.

At ITS, everything begins and ends with the library, in itself a very extensive archive. Every portfolio sent in since ITS’ inception has been meticulously documented and stored. One of the first rooms you enter within the gallery space offers a glimpse into this collection thus far. After nearly 25 years of archiving, ITS has accumulated around 15.000 portfolios, of which a large share is on the library shelves; the others are stored in the former bank vaults in the basement. Given the opportunity to curate an exhibition of his own, Tom Eerebout carefully browsed the catalogue of former finalists, connecting the dots with his personal work. EXPOSURE is a textbook example of the unconditional support of Barbara and ITS towards the talent discovered throughout the years.

Coinciding with the annual themed exhibition, there is a dedicated space for that year’s ten finalists, showcasing a silhouette from their submitted collection. This year, this is no different. For the forthcoming year, although still at the very start of their careers, the ten finalists will have their work featured in a museum exhibition, which is quite unseen or unheard of so early on in designers’ careers. This is but one of many assets ITS offers to young talent worldwide.

All Images Courtesy of ITS Fondazione.

By Chris Ziebert

This was ARCHIVE.pdf’s first Kiko Kostadinov show. It was an invitation I was incredibly excited to receive, not only because of the constantly burgeoning energy behind the brand but also because Kostadinov himself has roots in the same blog-era fashion history obsession that birthed ARCHIVE.pdf. Kostadinov is a collector, obsessed with designers like Yohji Yamamoto and Raf Simons, who was on the internet talking about these things years before our team started doing the same thing. So much of my early fashion education came from trawling old fashion forums, and it was heartening to find photos of a young Kiko Kostadinov in full Yohji Yamamoto POUR HOMME knowing that now, a decade or so later, he would be firmly in a front-running industry position.

Kostadinov’s emergence from that space means that his brand understands its history; Kostadinov can cite his references clearly. But despite the titanic legacies of the designers from whom he draws inspiration, those references never look too on the nose.

Kiko Kostadinov Woman is designed by Kostadinov’s wife Deanna Fanning and her sister Laura, who cited the birdwatchers they passed on their morning commutes through North London parks. The birds they watched “connect us to the cadence of nature” while we live in industrialized cities that squeeze out their few remaining green spaces. This whole assemblage – the birds and their plumage, the watchers and their equipment, the sisters on their commute, and the vectors of observation between them – became the genesis of Kiko Kostadinov Woman Autumn/Winter 2026.

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By Nash Hill

The breadth of Women’s week in Paris is staggering. Across the nine days, just on the official calendar, there are 67 shows, with several more presentations and off-schedule showings. When you are there, it is difficult to look at any other shows besides the ones that you are attending. You can feel a vibe toward certain shows, the big surprises or disasters, based on eavesdropping and the brief conversations dotting the daily schedule. At least for myself, a green participant to the whole ordeal, attending a dozen or so shows, and visiting showrooms and presentations— a far more useful and meaningful exercise than simply swimming in the spectacle of these runways— feels plenty enough.

To the last point, I missed the Zomer runway show— there is an entire tangent related to my Parisian lodgings, and lack of any internet or cell reception, but best saved for another channel— and was able to go to re-sees later in the week. Zomer is a young brand, launched in 2023, that has found quick success. I’d not paid much attention to it over the years, but being able to spend time with the clothes, having conversation with the team, even trying some things on, made me an instant fan. The clothes are playful and quirky, not because of any gimmicky tricks, but through smart design and anticipation of the different ways people enjoy wearing clothes. These showrooms offer a dimension of physical engagement that runway shows simply cannot provide.

But, onto the collections, in no particular order:

Dries Van Noten

It makes sense to start conversation about this brand with Julian Klausner’s success in following its founder, but a few seasons in it and it’s no longer a matter of just passing the test: Dries Van Noten has shown two of the best collections across both men’s and women’s this season. The richness and opulence and pure appreciation for the act of adornment running through the creation of these clothes is sublime. While Dries has always been known for its craft and handiwork, this new era feels like it’s pushing this practice to the limit of excess. In many ways, it feels like a new lens through which to view the balancing act of good and bad taste, or high culture and low culture, louche bohemianism versus regal austerity, these various tension points that Dries himself excelled in. The house under Julian is embracing indulgence in a totally serious way, and the quality and attention to detail of these clothes is remarkable.

Klausner’s work is tangibly more youthful than Dries himself, especially as he explores these “coming of age” years in recent seasons. And admittedly, I found the first couple collections to be too nakedly boyish and girlish, but this has been remedied.

The fantastic ’90s style knitwear from the men’s collection perfectly migrated to women’s. The painterly prints of peaches laid on skirts were the most vivid and pure images that I’ve seen on garments; I’m not sure how they achieved that level of detail. The digital prints were a fun tongue-in-cheek counter to this hyperrealism.

You could spill endless ink describing the intricacies of each garment. After seeing these pieces up close in the showroom, it is incredible to have such care given to ready-to-wear. I visited the showroom of a brand that is priced a bit lower— still in the contemporary luxury range— and the difference in quality is criminal. It’s clear that Julian Klausner isn’t concerned with churning out products. These are clothes that demand special attention.

Dries Van Noten is not only stable under a new authoring hand— it’s exciting, and it carries a sensibility that I don’t think you can find anywhere else right now in fashion.

Comme des Garçons

The brief notes given by Kawakubo:

“In the end, there is black. Ultimately Black. I have come to realize that, after all, black is the color for me. It’s just the strongest, the best for creation, and the color that embodies the rebellious spirit. And has the biggest meaning: The Universe and the Black Hole.”

Several ‘looks’ seemed bent inward, with different fabric types warped and clustered across the body— both delicate and stiff, twisted, knotted, ruched and gathered, layered transparently over rounded, bulbous forms emerging from the waist and bust. There was a material complexity at play here, more pointed than recent collections, emphasized by the monochromatic variances.

Were these sculptures bubbling, gurgling clusters of raw energy that all at once implode and expand into something unimaginably solid and real? Was the pink parade the culmination of chaos resulting in the beauty of creation and life itself, a celebration of the sheer impossibility of this precious thing that we’ve been granted by a supposedly merciless, indifferent and indefinable expanse?

Who knows. And I’m not sure anyone can totally know or understand what these collections communicate. I suppose that’s the point of these shows.

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The pressure comes not only from the city’s density but also from its unspoken dress codes. During COVID, just after graduating from Central Saint Martins, Luke began to question why he should wear a suit while sitting alone in his bedroom in a shirt and tie. “There was no reason to feel uncomfortable and look good for someone who wasn’t there,” he says. Luke began to rethink men's clothing and its association with bodily containment. Men's suits restrict movement; military and work uniforms are designed for specific functions; sportswear, such as hoodies, allows the wearer to conceal identity and body shape. Derrick’s work occupies the space between these codes.

His hidden hoodie pockets in tailored soft wool jackets allow the wearer to slide his hands inside as he would in sportswear. The posture shifts: shoulders drop, the spine loosens. One appears composed while the body remains at ease — running errands across the city, squeezing through crowds, and later stopping for a drink at a bar. Functionality in Derrick’s clothing is often discreet. Coat pockets are lined with Selvyt, the cloth used by the Royal Navy to polish silver. Positioned where a phone or watch would sit, the fabric cleans these objects as they move through the pocket during the day. “Everything is designed to be as thoughtless as possible,” Derrick says. That thoughtlessness is its own form of luxury: the ability to look good without thinking about it.

The same logic extends to outerwear that visually recalls heavy military coats yet feels unexpectedly light, filled with compressed duck feathers. The silhouette appears armoured; the experience of wearing it is soft, almost weightless. Making things appear more rigid than they feel runs throughout his work. Elegance, after all, is a matter of graceful movement. It lives in transitional moments.

Military culture and sport shaped Derrick’s early understanding of menswear. Raised in Oxford, very tall and, by his own description, somewhat clumsy, he jokes that had he not gone to Central Saint Martins, he might have ended up at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst. Though he had no desire to become a soldier, military culture loomed large in those school years, where identity was often declared through sport. He joined the rowing team, and it was there that his sensitivity to menswear began to surface. “There was this super nuanced aesthetic,” he recalls, “of wearing extremely high-performance and really low-performance gear.” Athletes might pair an elite German training kit with something as casual as a Five Guys baseball cap — a mix of discipline and nonchalance that would later echo in his design language. As a teenager, he began designing rowing kits for his team. An internship followed at sixteen after the cycling brand Rapha crossed his path. At that time, menswear came first; “fashion” as a term felt distant, even intimidating. Trained later on Savile Row, he learned the discipline of British tailoring.

Today, Luke and his assistant, Kosuke Otani, work in a small studio in the Bethnal Green area, a buzzy neighbourhood with food and clothing markets, where Victorian houses stand next to industrial warehouses and Middle Eastern communities coexist with young creatives. When you enter the studio, the first thing that catches your eye is a wall of street-style photographs of local people whose outfits combine traditional garments with sportswear, for example, a white jellaba paired with bright trainers.

“The old and the new are everywhere,” he says. “How can you not use that for creative purposes?” The neighbourhood and the people around him inspire Luke every day and generate many ideas, but the resources are tight. Working with limited fabric stock, where a mistake carries real financial consequences, demands trust in intuition, imagining how a small fabric swatch might behave at the scale of a finished garment. Yet those very constraints encourage refinement and demand a more rigorous approach. Building a brand in London also makes traditional British manufacturing part of the process of reimagining menswear. Derrick’s recent partnership with Private White V.C., one of the few remaining menswear factories in the UK, shows how heritage production can be integrated into a contemporary design practice.

In his latest collection, Luke reworks classic shapes with elements of sportswear. Corduroy trousers feature a thin side stripe, while the shoes borrow the lines of traditional Italian footwear but are built on Vibram soles, making them as comfortable as trainers. The funnel-shaped scarf protects, recalling the familiar sensation of pulling on a turtleneck: fabric sliding softly over the neck and cheeks, leaving you both hidden and exposed. These ambivalent pieces are ideal for people living in big cities, where the immensity of time and space can feel overwhelming, and where it is easy to get lost and be vulnerable. “I think we’re living in a strange time,” says Luke. “Everyone is insecure. The world feels like it’s in flux.”

Luke’s clothing considers how one might want to physically feel a connection with the surrounding space: to dissolve into it in a sense, while still knowing that one is safe and protected. It’s felt in the pleasant sensation of fabric on the skin as the wind blows, or in the observation of reflections moving across the surface of a jacket. In a recent collection, iridescent fabric captures London under shifting light. They feel particularly suited to twilight: that suspended hour between the end of work and the beginning of night, when the city exhales before gathering itself again. London demands a great deal, both physically and mentally. And if Derrick’s clothes function as armour, they do so gently: with structure, elegance, and care.

- Sofia Anna Dolin, Writer

Some value form more than function – others dress purely out of utility. Different brands adhere to different customers. Burton was never meant to be appreciated as a fashion company but their ability to produce high quality, functional garments has drawn admiration from more than just snowboarders.

“In the mid-1970s Jake Burton Carpenter quit his New York City suit-and-tie job to follow a gut feeling that sliding on snow could become a sport. He moved to Londonderry, Vermont, and began building boards by hand. In 1977 Jake made Burton Snowboards an official company. After almost four years in Londonderry he moved to a farm in nearby Manchester, where his operations slowly grew. The next year he met his future wife, Donna, who quickly became an integral part of building Burton.” (Burton website)

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By Alisa Dylevy
Scans sourced from ‘Hussein Chalayan,’ published by Rizzoli (2011), unless otherwise noted.

Last September, Dirty Looks: Desire and Decay in Fashion, opened at the Barbican Centre. The exhibition examined the “dirt/y” and the subversive, through established talents alongside emerging designers. Among the garments on display were the singular pieces of Hussein Chalayan, including looks and video from his graduation collection from Central Saint Martins, The Tangent Flows (1993). Photographed by Adrian Wilson, the collection was largely a meditation on the preservation of wearable garments for the future. The garments were buried underground alongside copper filings, undergoing the cycle of decay and discoloration from the metal oxidation. The collection emphasized the way garments can function as future relics, preserving the presence of the body within their material form. The wearer sets themselves in the presence of an artifact, rather than simply being a garment to be dressed in, functioning not only as attire but as an object of preservation. It is this dialogue between the garment, body, image, and the passage of time that Hussein Chalayan’s practice encompasses.

Raised in London, originally a Turkish Cypriot, Hussein Chalayan carries a poetic sensibility that has long informed his approach to design. His work has explored themes such as preservation, technology, and displacement, often occupying the space between multiple domains, each reinforcing the narrative of the other. Rather than presenting clothing as a single isolated object on a body, Chalayan constructed layered environments where meaning unfolds over time. Garments became objects solely on their own, carrying meaning beyond function and existing as autonomous forms of narrative.

Chalayan’s practice is founded on rigorous conceptual experimentation, using garments as a medium for storytelling that forges a critical relationship between clothing, the body, and the wider cultural context. Chalayan has consistently positioned fashion as a conceptual practice, establishing a legacy that extends far beyond the scope of fashion design.

Many of his artworks and collections were documented through photography and short films, creating an enduring archive. While the image plays a crucial role in communicating the work beyond its original context, it remains secondary to the lived experience of the garment. For Chalayan, the image acts as a means of translation rather than an end in itself.

“The visual image has always been an important element in my work, helping to convey the narrative of each project, but it has never been the sole focus. People who wear my clothes are often drawn to the image, yet they have developed a more personal understanding of the experience. I feel this stems from how most of my time was devoted to the technical aspects: meaning, fit, cut, quality of construction, obsessive perfectionism, craftsmanship, and movement. The visual image ran parallel to these considerations, but for me, the act of wearing the clothes lived experience, was paramount.”

Chalayan created books that did not specifically address fashion aesthetics, but instead existed for their conceptual intent. Altitude (A Flip Book), photographed by Marcus Tomlinson, contains no text and is framed by large white borders. The book presents a sequence of images, one image per page, one model in varying poses, culminating in a final moment where the figure appears to rise toward the sky through the upward extension of the arms. The closing pages are left blank and white, suggesting an open expanse of sky, or the void extending the work beyond the image itself.

Much has been made of the distinction between traditional art and fashion. The image provides a lens through which the relationship between the two disciplines can be more clearly understood. For Chalayan, this relationship is grounded in the physical presence of clothing. “In art, the image can exist more independently, even if it projects a lived experience. In fashion, the image is inseparable from the body and the wearer— it gains meaning through interaction and lived experience. My approach bridges these domains— I consider the visual and conceptual impact, but always in dialogue with wearability, movement, and the presence that brings it to life.”

Chalayan sees the image as the afterlife: the image would not be possible if there were no body or space involved. The wearer— the one who is in motion, in front of the camera— becomes the very condition for the image to exist. “The human presence is fundamental,” he says. “Gesture, movement, and emotional resonance activate the garment and the image simultaneously. Without the wearer, the image is incomplete – it is through human interaction culturally and physically that the work truly communicates its essence.” What survives in the image is the residue of presence that transforms a garment into an artifact of lived experience.

The image not only records the body and its interaction with the space, but it also reflects the conditions under which the body is allowed to be seen. Chalayan frequently used nudity or the exposure of the body as a controversial commentary on religion. In one of his more famous collections, Between, Spring/Summer 1998, he examined theological belief systems as structures of meaning, considering how they shape perceptions of territory and control. Along with the collection, a set of images and a short film were taken at Dungeness, East Sussex, interpreted by Donald Christie as an extension of both the narrative and the creative process. These explored how territory is culturally defined through dress, featuring a nude female body marking distance using ropes and poles. By focusing on a bounded space, the work reflected on how identity can be diminished through the act of covering the face, and using religious codes to strip away one’s individuality through the contrast of coverage and exposure. The inclusion of the nude body is essential as it exposes the body as a site of belief before it is disciplined by dress. Chalayan reveals how religious systems assert control not only over garments, but also through the regulation of how the body itself is understood.

Chalayan worked on several short films tangential to fashion, including Anaesthetics, 2004. This film expresses a state of emotional numbness toward everyday life, depicting individuals who move through ordinary moments with detachment. The constant circulation of the platform mirrors the rhythms of everyday life, carrying with it the subtle authority embedded in routine. “In my work, the full story emerges only when the garment is worn and in motion,” he says. “A photograph or presentation captures a moment, but meaning evolves through context, use, and interaction. I see the image as a doorway to a living narrative, not the narrative itself.” Throughout the film, the garments worn by the performers shift from functional clothing to narrative devices, becoming objects that carry meaning rather than a central focus themselves. It was the actors who made the garments come alive, instead of the garments defining who the actors appeared to be.

The belief that a garment should possess an afterlife beyond the runway or the photoshoot stands central to Hussein Chalayan’s practice:

“The completed image is both a trace and a continuation. During the design process, I often tried to instigate a sense that the garment could acquire its own life, or become a remnant of imagined lived situations. However, it continues to live when worn, moving and responding to the wearer, our Mayfair store became a strong space to explore this extension.”

Chalayan emphasizes the importance of designers engaging directly with the people who inhabit the clothes. Without this connection, a distance emerges, limiting the designer’s understanding of the wearer’s character, lifestyle, and needs.

Chalayan’s physical store, opened in 2015 in Mayfair, London, provided a space for intimate feedback between the client and the designer. “Personal connection is vital,” he explains. “Understanding the wearer’s body, gestures, lifestyle, and preferences often leads to unexpected solutions and refinements. Intimacy informs the creative process, making the work more responsive, functional, and alive. Cliché to say, but the wearer is not just an audience but a collaborator.” Within the minimalistic interior, the physical store offered ready-to-wear for womenswear and menswear, designed to host in-store events that encourage direct interaction.

“In the years before I stopped doing seasonal collections up until Covid, this dialogue became the most exciting part of my journey. Through our store, I found a direct response mechanism and a platform to improve my work through interaction with people, extending the creative process into real life.” As the shop closed, the space is now occupied by a contemporary and modern art gallery, Setareh Gallery.

Hussein Chalayan reflects on how fashion has become increasingly mediated through screens today, stripping the layers of complexity of the garment. His vision resists the separation between the visual and the experiential, insisting that garments gain meaning not through representation alone, but through the physical sensory realities when being worn.

“There is always a risk of privileging the image over the experience, but my practice always resisted that separation despite what many people said or thought. The visual image is only one entry point -the real experience lies in wearing, moving, and inhabiting the garment. My work seeks to balance these dimensions, allowing the image and lived experience to enrich each other.”

In the image-saturated world, “authenticity and authorship are inseparable and both at risk,” reflecting a collective desire for meaning that extends beyond the surface of the image on the screen. Chalayan’s perspective suggests that maintaining authenticity requires attention to how garments are not only consumed visually, but lived with and experienced. “In fashion, it is the responsibility of the media and conglomerates to sustain this awareness without selling souls, over monumentalizing mediocrity, or abusing power.”

“The proliferation of images can make abstraction more challenging, yet it also opens new possibilities. I focus on creating work that engages both visually and experientially, so the image is not just consumed but inhabited. Perhaps those who have been moved by my work were able to make a semiotic link to what they already feel and know about various facets of their own life and world events…..”

For Chalayan, the image not only becomes a documentation of the outcome of the work, but embodies the dialogue between the designer, wearer, and image viewer, carrying layers of meaning beyond mere representation. Rather than serving as a passive conclusion, the image becomes an extension of the work itself.

The image operates as a record of presence rather than a substitute for it, allowing the garment to exist beyond the runway while remaining anchored to the body that once possessed it. At the core of Chalayan’s approach is a commitment to creating garments that live with the wearer while remaining grounded in materiality and movement. As he states, “What remains constant is my commitment to bridging experimentation and practicality. Transformation is a theme, but it is always grounded in materiality, movement, and experience. The core is to design a garment which has its own sense of life, enhancing that of the wearer.” Through his approach, garments and images exist in conversation, extending the life of the work beyond the moment of creation.

During the pandemic, Chalayan made the decision to close his physical store and stop doing seasonal collections. He has since worked on co-branded design collaborations, shown his artworks with museums and galleries, and is currently a professor at HTW Berlin.

In celebration of Byronesque bringing the Martin Margiela: Not an Auction sale to New York Fashion Week this weekend, we are reposting our coverage of the original sale last year in Paris. The appointment-only sale will be held at Assembly New York “Next Door” at 168 Ludlow Street. For appointments, dm @byronesquevintage.

This article was originally published on our website on March 28, 2025.

Fall/Winter 2025 was a season of Martin Margiela. References abound: new tabi iterations debuted both within the Maison in collaboration Louboutin and without at Kiko Kostadinov; Adrian Appiolaza’s Moschino continued to collide Franco Moschino’s wit with deconstructivism; and Junya Watanabe showed wig jackets that called back to the ones shown in Margiela’s final collection for Spring 2009. Returns to the Margiela archive are nothing new; it has been years since the designer left fashion, but nods to his language appear season after season. However, behind this particular season of references was a pair of sales of pieces from the Margiela archive, with one hosted by Kerry Taylor Auctions and Maurice Auctions, and the other by Byronesque Vintage. The former sale focused on the earliest years of the label, while the latter offered a wardrobe-style collection composed of everyday pieces from seasons spanning the designer’s career. Against the backdrop of a season peppered with returns to the Martin Margiela archive, the dramatically diverging viewpoints of these two Margiela sales provide valuable insights into the work of the ever-influential designer.

The year began with Margiela: the Early Years, hosted in collaboration between Maurice and Kerry Taylor Auctions. The collection was composed of garments from the personal collections of Angela and Elena Picozzi – daughters of Martin Margiela’s former pattern-maker, Graziella Picozzi – and consisted of accessories, pieces, full looks, and even sketchbooks from the years of 1988-1994. During PFW Men’s, the pieces were on display to the public, with the auction concluding at the end of the week. The auction broke records, netting the highest prices Margiela’s archive has ever seen, topping out at a full look from Spring/Summer 1990 that sold for 101,400 euros.

Byronesque Vintage’s Martin Margiela: Not an Auction provided a very different look into Margiela’s oeuvre. The company’s focus is on the sourcing and sale of contemporary vintage fashion, with a curatorial eye for identifying the clothes that are important enough to deserve retrospective attention. Byronesque has sold a lot of Margiela, hallmarked by a 2017 sale that drew a line out the door. Put-off by the hype, the company was seduced back into the Margiela race by the unique opportunity posed by this sale. The clothes came from Christina Ahlers, who worked as a member of Martin Margiela’s team until 2006, and represented an accumulation of clothes acquired to be worn, not preserved. They were presented on unremarkable clothing racks, in a white apartment, with white sheets over the furniture, and minimal merchandising — an incredibly Margiela setting. But this was not the carefully-curated museum selection of The Early Years — this was a wardrobe.

Iconic pieces like cigarette shoulder jackets (A/W ‘91) and ‘Doll’s Wardrobe’ sweaters (S/S ‘99) were shown alongside simple waistcoats, knits, and dresses, all possessing subtle details that remind us of the designer’s distinctive hand.

Byronesque founder Gill Linton says, “What I like about this collection is that it’s the Margiela uniform of people who were part of his world at the time. Who didn’t imagine that it would be so important decades later.” This is a sale composed of pieces of fashion history – but it is also a sale of everyday clothes.

When a designer like Margiela ascends to the realm of myth, and their work is experienced more through museum retrospectives than shop floors or daily wear, their greatness is reduced to spectacle: untouchable clothes representing unimpeachable legacies. The tactility and embodiment of their work is a luxury experienced by only the lucky few. But these are some of the qualities most important for understanding the works of great designers. This is especially true of Martin Margiela, who was at once an incredible orchestrator of artistic spectacle and the visionary architect of a way of dressing that is to be lived, not just seen. His investment in the everyday is most distilled in his A/W ‘93 collection film, which followed seven women going about their days in locations and looks of their choosing.

Margiela’s approach celebrated the relationships we develop with our clothes – through experience, through DIY, through styling, and through their eventual destruction. The white box of the modern museum provides a blank canvas against which Margiela’s designs can express their details clearly, but its harsh light dispels that deeply personal sense of intimacy. Byronesque’s sale, presenting a wardrobe in a small Paris apartment, reclaimed some of that emotional resonance in a time when its role in Margiela’s work is often rendered invisible.

By no means is this a criticism of The Early Years auction; this was a collection of garments the likes of which will never be seen again, and the eye-watering prices they garnered were nonetheless deserved. The face of Margiela with which they engaged deserved the deification of that auction format. But we cannot let that spectacular, legendary, historically-entrenched Martin Margiela overshadow the intimate, light-handed, personal Martin Margiela. The two characters are the product of the same team of designers, and the same body of work, and must be appreciated in tandem to fully appreciate MMM.

Thank you to both teams for offering us opportunities to appreciate the different sides of Maison Martin Margiela.

By Wonne Scrayen

A picture of coming of age as “anything goes”. Youthfulness laureled in all its naivety and candidness. Any chance of clattering sound bouncing off the concrete walls was countered by ink-black curtains hemming the otherwise subdued space. Attendees with Jupiler beer bottles in hand–no question this is a Belgian house–are asked to take a seat on wooden classroom chairs, transported back to this pivotal phase of life, graduates on the brink of adulthood. Now on the edge of their seats, in a similar anticipation. Anticipation breached by Maki Asakawa’s hushed voice.

To 1969’s jazzy sounds of Asakawa’s Yo Ga Aketara, a breeze of billowing blouses and coats–many of which were covered in blurred micro-florals taken from polaroids– introduces a tenderness piercing the cold concrete; the soundtrack soon augmented by an undercurrent of squeaking shoes. Sneakers’ rubber soles on concrete, evoking this sense of awkwardness that, for many, is associated with the transition from teen to young adult. Eager to break in the shoes to walk this new path of life. Classic boarding school references, such as capes, capelets, pea coats, ties, and blazers, are mitigated and carried over into this new in-between phase, figuring out one’s own identity. Classics from a previous life spruced up with trinkets.

With knit jumpers doubling as cardigans, the notion of possibilities and new beginnings is explored further. The insertion of a ‘spacer’ flanked by two zippers creates a curious interplay of clashing patterns: a classic Dries motif recurring at length throughout the collection. What is left unsaid, but lingers in the mind, is the possibility of playing with sizes and proportions here. When in the next size up, the spacer could potentially be omitted for a more tight-fitting cardigan, or when left as is, worn more baggy. It is left to the wearer; an exploration by, and in turn, of the self.

Several knitted collars and allegedly paperbag-esque belts convey a sense of trompe l’oeil. Telling of an age at which you might think you know it all, but soon enough realize you don’t; feet gently but firmly grounded. By taking a closer look–with spectacles to do so plentiful in this collection–it dawns that the collars are in fact detached from the vests paired underneath; entities in their own right. In contrast, what appear to be standalone waistbelts–seemingly this season’s take on the cummerbunds from SS26–eventually reveal themselves as part of the actual trousers. The misconception is underscored, once again, by this use of clashing prints. But as a whole, as is the case with the many patchwork coats, knits, and scarves too, these pieces exemplify the Dries Van Noten magnitude of making work what in theory shouldn’t, whether that’s merging prints, colors, or textures.

The thing with Dries Van Noten is it’s almost always ‘too’. Too much print, too much color, at times slightly too short or tight, if not that, then slightly too big. But the magic lies in the elusive artistry of getting away with it, time and time again. And not only that, but turning it into a signature met by undivided cheer. Even with the baton passed to Julian Klausner, no compromise has been made; the ink of the Dries signature is ever-preserved. If anything, Klausner holds a magnifying glass to Dries’ design language, emphasizing it even more. He has found comfort in someone else’s DNA, yet without ever denying his own.

The disparity between, on the one hand, the collection’s underlying narrative of this age bracket’s all-consuming desire to fit in and conform to expectations, and, on the other hand, Klausner’s decisive design choices, carries something reassuring. A prefiguration, almost, to stay true to yourself no matter what. The comfort put at stake in this transitional phase in life by stepping out of one’s comfort zone is metaphorically replenished by knitwear and an overall striking sense of softness. Tactile comfort as solace for a void of mental comfort. Whether it be through ribbed woolen trousers, chunky knits, childhood hats with earflaps, or vests pulled from granddad’s wardrobe, without a doubt, knitwear–one of the house’s irrefutable strongpoints–was this season’s star of the show. Not so much a mere showpiece as the strand upholding the DNA.

If there were ever to be named a collection designated to encompass the Dries Van Noten DNA, this one would be a worthy contender at the least. A retrospective in real time, with no loose threads to be found–except for those intended, near the very end [look 50, coat above]. Julian Klausner, building on his hitherto nearly flawless momentum–if by now we can even still call it a ‘momentum’–is setting himself up for a tricky task to exceed expectations yet again in seasons to come.

The best collection of the season belonged to Julian Klausner for Dries Van Noten. We will be publishing a longer review in due time; shortly, Klausner perfectly produced the sensibility of Dries that made the Belgian master so appealing. The Prints, the rich jewel tones, and the patterns used for knitwear and outerwear this season were sublime. The ability to convey bohemianism, exuberance, and sensitivity without resorting to frivolity or emasculation is very difficult to do in menswear.

J.W. Anderson’s Dior Homme continues to be a mess of uncertainty and incoherence. Anderson seems preoccupied with the aristocratic dandy, given the debut collection that was riddled with fetishism of private school boys– looks that when worn by adult men looked ridiculous. Here, the idea seems to be elevated to the proper elite, with a finer focus on exquisite materials. The Poiret fabrics are gorgeous. This angle makes sense for Dior; Anderson is clearly a talented world builder, hence his appointment to create an amount of collections– not since Galliano have we seen such complete authorship.

But the execution of his crocheted-intellectualism needs immense refinement. There are simply too many disastrous looks in this collection. Looks 12 and 30 are tragic, and this fixation with the bar jacket needs to end. No amount of conceptual justifications or smart historicism changes the reality of clothing.

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By Seth Sherwood

Last year our Co-EIC, Nash, wrote a post titled “Demna’s Gucci and a Broken History”. It came after a short-lived photo posted by Demna’s husband, Loki, made its rounds online and took the archive fashion space by storm. If I were to paraphrase: he figured that the odds of a full blown Tom Ford Gucci revival were pretty slim, and that Demna ought to do better than simply retread Ford’s territory, which he wasn’t convinced anyone actually wanted.

Nash accurately pinned down that Demna isn’t exactly known for being sleazy, sharp, or sexy. He expected that there would be some callbacks to that era of Gucci, considering it was (neck-and-neck with Michele’s tenure) the peak of the brand’s cultural capital — and more importantly, made a lot of money. Nash pointed out that a potential Tom Ford revival is rooted more in the desire for the mood of the era than for the clothing itself. He points to a sort of nostalgia-poisoning that has come to dominate fashion in the 2020s: fashion as simulacrum, tactility gone the way of spectacle and algorithmic engagement. Everyone is paying homage and reflecting on the “better days,” with each retrieval of the past becoming more pastiche than the last. There will be no new clothes unless humans start growing new arms and legs. It’s a bit of a pessimistic take, but spend enough time playing the Instagram fashion content game and attending East Village activations surrounded by niche micro-knowledge influencers, and you may end up with the same bleak outlook.

Nash ends the piece by offering a point of divergence. If Demna uses the archives as a means to understand his own place within the Gucci narrative, he’ll probably be a success. Extract the past for cheap thrills, it might be doomed.

On December 4th, 2025, Demna posted his Pre-Fall 2026 collection to Gucci’s Instagram, titled “Generation Gucci.” It was Demna’s deep dive into the archive of the brand, a continuation of the archetypes that he explored in his debut for the house, “La Famiglia.” The 58 look show was a mock runway, with a large Ford-esque flood light washing out the models as they “strutted” along the infinite algorithm. The goal here was to recreate the FOMO feeling of an old Gucci show, one that you couldn’t find on Vogue runway or FirstView.

Instagram pages flocked left and right to compare and contrast which looks are closest to certain Tom Ford-era shows. Look 19 and 46 do indeed look like F/W ‘99. Ford’s iconic plunging neckline returns in look 7. You can play this game with a handful of looks; pick out the most glamorous dresses and exotic furs, the skin tight leathers, the power suiting, and there’s a Ford look that comes close enough.

Easy references to Ford, however, aren’t enough to make a good collection. Demna offered high praise to Ford, citing him as his introduction to understanding fashion, and what it means to create an aesthetic and desirability. As designers, the two actually share a commonality here, in the sense that they are both interested in fashion as social phenomena, but differ in execution.

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Beginning his Seditionaries collection in High School, Hiroshi Fujiwara moved to London at age 18 and began working at World’s End with Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren. After a trip to New York City and advice from McLaren himself, Fujiwara returned to live in Tokyo. He began his career in the music industry alongside his friend Kan Takagi, starting the first Hip-Hop label out of Japan, MAJOR FORCE. The two also ran a monthly magazine column called LAST ORGY where they would meet and introduce their favorite rappers, recommend music, clothing, accessories, and anything else they thought was cool.

As skateboards, graffiti, and hip-hop echoed in the streets of Japan for the first time, Tomoaki Nagao, a follower of LAST ORGY, moved to Tokyo to attend Bunka Fashion College, where he met Jun Takahashi. After a series of chance events at a London Nite event, Nagao earned the name NIGO and became Hiroshi Fujiwara’s assistant. Jun Takahashi created his brand, UNDERCOVER, around the same time that Hiroshi Fujiwara created GOODENOUGH. But in 1993, it was time to take things more seriously: opening on April fools day, NOWHERE store was the home of Ura-Harajuka brands.

The influence of NIGO, Takahashi, and Fujiwara in columns like LAST ORGY, Hiroshi Fujiwara Adjustment, A Little Knowledge, among others, reflected the rising streetwear scene— not only globally, but most importantly, in Japan. Brands like VANDALIZE, REALMADHECTIC, Number (N)ine, and General Research began popping up across Japan; by 1998, western brands like Supreme and STÜSSY boasted 3 locations each across Japan.

This timeline will document the brand history, collaborations, music releases and other culturally significant events in the Ura-Harajuku fashion scene up until the year 2000. It is compiled from translations and other primary sources. If you spot anything or something should be added please message @dampmagazines.

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This edition is unmistakably shaped by a distinctly feminine presence: a strong visibility of women photographers, female subjects, and ways of seeing and portraying women. As artistic director Anna Planas explained, the whole curatorial team is female, and while they no longer think explicitly in terms of gender, the growing number of women photographers in the selection naturally brings this perspective to the forefront.

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At the entrance, the tone was set by the monumental work of Sophie Ristelhueber, presented by Galerie Poggi. Nearby, Donna Trope brought a sharp contrast with her bold and playful close-ups. In her work, Trope plays with exaggeration and theatricality, merging artifice and intimacy with a sense of “conceptual mischief”. Going further inside the fair, the Japanese presence emerged with particular strength. At its center is Rinko Kawauchi, whose soft, luminous palette has defined her visual language for decades. The photographer composes delicate beings, natural forces and domestic fragments with the same quiet strength. This sensitivity to the body and emotional form was echoed in the work of Sayuri Ichida, the Japanese-born, UK-based photographer whose images merge the human form, landscape and architecture into geometric continuities.

Another relevant voice in this year’s selection was Justine Tjallinks, the Dutch photographer who transitioned from fashion to fine-art portraiture. Inspired by Old Flemish Masters and threads of magical realism, Tjallinks works with a layered editing process reminiscent of painting. Exploring the space further, it was impossible not to stop by the work of Jack Davidson, who explores surrealism infused with Baroque contrasts. Known for his preference ofblack-and-white, Davison presented a portrait series rooted at his core: street-cast sitters transformed through the sculptural power of the light.

Francesca Allen offered a tender counterpoint with her intimate portraits of youth, friendship, and the shifting boundary between vulnerability and performance. Her images carry the lightness and mischievous energy of this “year of the girls,” capturing it with clarity – whether in the Lithuanian long-hair competition or in the fleeting drama of adolescence.

Closing the circuit is Paul Kooiker, whose unsettling, sculptural approach probed the mechanics of desire and distortion. Bodies appear fragmented, disguised, or exaggerated; beauty becomes ambiguous, sometimes grotesque, always magnetic. His images question the act of looking, pulling the viewer into something stranger, more psychological and, most of all, impossible to resolve.

- Luisa Beorchia, writer

Today, the fashion industry faces a clear imbalance in leadership: most women’s collections are still designed by men. When Maria Grazia Chiuri left Dior earlier this year, creative consultant and fashion executive Mimma Viglezionoted that it marked a symbolic low point. For the first time in decades, no haute couture house was led by a woman. The comment, widely echoed across the industry, highlighted a profound dissonance: an industry primarily addressed to women remains authored and governed by men, from creative directors to CEOs and board members. This hierarchy shapes not only who holds power but also how femininity and masculinity are imagined. Women’s clothing, no matter how radical or refined, is filtered through the male gaze, projecting fantasies that rarely align with women’s lived experiences. In the Spring/Summer 2026 season, bare skin ruled the runways (as always) — empowerment imagined by those untouched by scrutiny. In real life, women must negotiate visibility with care, following both unspoken and explicit rules about when exposure is acceptable, and for whom. By contrast, when women design for men, the effect can be strikingly different, opening new possibilities for expressing masculinities. In an industry dominated by men, a woman designing menswear is, in itself, revolutionary.

“What is it like being a woman designing for men? Heaven knows there are enough men designing for women, but so few the other way around,” the critic Suzy Menkes asked Véronique Nichanian in a 2009 interview.“I don’t judge them. It’s a different attitude from the men’s doing women’s. Sometimes, the men who design for women have a fantasy, and I don’t have any fantasy of men,” Nichanian replied, perhaps hinting at the fact that the industry is full of idealised images of masculinity. Today, the industry looks different: more women have taken an active role in redefining menswear, including designers like Grace Wales Bonner, Priya Ahluwalia, Bianca Saunders, Martine Rose, and Carlota Barrera, opening new possibilities for the expression of men’s bodies. This is not the first time men have benefited from women’s influence in fashion. First, in the 1960s, during the sexual revolution, women’s fight for autonomy and visibility created space for men to reconsider how they could present themselves. Fashion reflected that shift: the gray suit, once the symbol of rigid masculinity, began to loosen, and fabrics long coded as feminine — chiffon, voile, broderie anglaise, cut velvet — entered men’s wardrobes. Rock stars embraced this new ambiguity, dressing in ways that blurred gender lines and reimagined heterosexual masculinity. That aesthetic evolved through the gender-fluid experimentation of the 1980s and 1990s, later becoming central to the menswear runways of the twenty-first century. Still, very few women designed men’s clothing. One of them was Véronique Nichanian, who led Hermès menswear for nearly four decades. Today, female designers are proving that authorship matters. They are not only challenging the gender imbalance in fashion but also redefining what masculinity can look like. Wales Bonner takes this further, extending the conversation beyond Western ideas of the body. At a major luxury house, her approach takes on new weight, bringing her ideas to a global stage.

For Wales Bonner, joining Hermès marks a shift from independence to scale. Since founding her label in 2014, she has cultivated an intimate, deeply personal aesthetic that merges her dual heritage while maintaining a strong focus on tailoring. Through her collaboration with Adidas, she showed she could translate that language for a global audience, reimagining sportswear with sophistication. Now she enters a house where scale itself reshapes the rhythm of creation. In today’s precarious fashion economy, where independent labels struggle to endure, the move may offer rare stability. Hermès remains one of the few luxury houses still operating outside the race of corporate conglomerates, and its vision of luxury lies not in novelty but in time. With her first collection set for January 2027, the house is giving Bonner the rare gift of time — to settle, to experiment, to find her voice within its lineage. Time, after all, is the ultimate luxury. For a designer whose work resists fashion’s velocity, it may also be her greatest ally.

Originally interested in literature and history, Grace Wales Bonner did not set out to work in fashion. Yet, as often happens with unplanned paths, fashion became the perfect medium through which she could communicate her ideas in ways that could be experienced directly through the body. A rigorous researcher, Bonner’s work is shaped by postcolonial theory, particularly the ideas of scholars such as Homi K. Bhabha and Stuart Hall. Bhabha’s concept of cultural hybridity challenges the notion of culture as fixed, emphasising the mixing and blending that occur in colonial and postcolonial contexts. Hall, meanwhile, described identity as fluid and evolving, shaped by history, culture, and power. In both academic and creative circles, the idea of “decolonising” has become central to contemporary conversation. But the effort to remove elements seen as “colonising” and replace them with what is considered “decolonising” can sometimes reproduce the same hierarchy of taking and giving, reinforcing binary thinking all over again. Bonner’s work moves differently: it merges, reassembles, and reimagines.

Take her Autumn/Winter 2020 collection, when she turned to Lovers’ Rock — the romantic reggae subgenre and the mood captured in artist John Goto’s photo series documenting young British African-Caribbeans in 1977, a year marked by the Battle of Lewisham, when local people stood up to the far-right National Front. Goto took pictures of young people not in standardised uniforms but in relaxed clothes, wearing gentle knits, oversized coats and flared trousers. Their bodies moved freely, their skin touched by the comfort of pliant fabrics. That carried into Bonner’s collection, where classic tailoring was renewed with traces of heritage. A model in a brown-beige suit wears a pale blue turtleneck that softens its conservatism, a hint of sky breaking through the city’s tension. Another look includes a denim trench coat, where military details and workwear fabric meet a lining of shimmering green velvet, visible at the cuffs and inner edges. A Rastafarian beanie, reimagined by milliner Stephen Jones in Scottish wool, nods to both diaspora and craftsmanship.

Wales Bonner’s designs dissolve binaries between masculine and feminine, European and non-European, and reimagine Black style beyond the stereotypes of exoticism or hypersexuality, exploring instead how sensuality can be expressed through nuance. In her Autumn/Winter 2023 collection, high-waisted trousers with a distinctive layered fabric element around the waist drew attention to the movement of the hips. They evoked a tradition of bodily rhythm and the way movement itself carries memory. In many African cultures, the hips are engaged more freely in dance and everyday gesture, and Bonner brings that sense of movement to Savile Row tailoring, where structure learns to move.

This approach also challenges Western ideals of the ‘contained’ male body. In many non-Western traditions, the body is expressive and adorned, serving as an extension of emotion and spirituality rather than a vessel of discipline. Bonner demonstrated it, for example, in her Autumn/Winter 2018 collection, where she drew on French-Caribbean Creole aesthetics, blending French couture with Jamaican heritage, military and sports influences, and elements of water and land. In that collection, a sleeveless ivory jacket softened the silhouette, curving gently around the chest, and delicately revealed midriff skin, while trousers with cargo pockets recalled a navy uniform, reinterpreted with softness. In her work, clothing becomes a site of intellectual inquiry, a living archive of the diasporic imagination, reconciling what history once divided.

As a woman designing for men, Bonner invites masculinity to look inward, to soften, and to reflect. In doing so, she continues a lineage of liberation: one that began when women reclaimed their own bodies, now extending to men learning to inhabit theirs differently. This is more than an aesthetic evolution; it is a shift in consciousness. She creates spaces where power and empathy coexist, where clothing becomes an act of care, and masculinity becomes a practice of self-awareness. Wales Bonner’s work both touches and transforms, softening the sharp edges of masculinity while empowering wearers with kindness, respect, and integrity.

- Sofia Anna Dolin, Writer ARCHIVE.pdf