When looking at the unique world of Japanese fashion culture both past and present, it is almost impossible to overlook Kapital. They have maintained a true sense of authenticity and individuality in both their creative direction and products, and with each season seem to be even more self-assured than their last. Kiro Hirata is the main architect of the brand and it’s creative direction, though it was Kiro’s father, Toshikiyo Hirata, who had initially started the company in Kojima Japan in 1985. Kojima was actually the source of the name itself as well, as it is often referred to as “the capital of denim”. 

When most people think of Kapital, they think of a couple of mainstay themes: Boro denim, Century denim, and the catalogs, all things they continue to produce. The yearly lookbooks that they release are, to me, most pertinent to understanding the unique way Kapital approaches the world - acting as a visual language of the philosophy of Kapital. They produce these with full creative control with often little change to the core team, adhering to guidelines set only by themselves with seemingly no limitation. This in itself seems to defy the way we collectively approach the fashion process, to remain true and unique at all costs. They have and continue to participate in eccentric defiance. 

The garments they produce all seem to exist underneath the same unique umbrella of experimentation. They will often create confusing proportions and cuts that fit on the body in a challenging way, best described by David Sedaris, saying “These are clothes that absolutely refuse to flatter you, that go out of their way to insult you, really,” though going on to say that he still cannot get enough of them. And that’s speaking only of the proportions, let alone the distinctive choice of fabrics and how they choose to distress their clothing (often to an extreme extent). I say none of these things disparagingly. Kapital seems to do all of these things not just for the sake of being strange or unique, but to pose genuine questions about the concept of novelty in clothing production: leaving no convention or cultural influence unturned. 

This can all be said for a lot of Kapital clothing, but they also produce some items that look to replicate traditional cuts and processes, such as their famous Boro denim (see some examples below). This famous way of making denim uses traditional Japanese sashiko stitching that dates as far back as the early Edo Period of Japan’s history, appearing in the early to mid 1600s. It was originally used as a fabric mending technique to repair hard-wearing garments, and is really a genius process. It increases durability, can be used to easily mend multiple fabrics together, and is often decorative and beautiful (though the beauty in the process was only recognized after the fact). Kapital recognized this and made Boro denim a mainstay, prompting lots of creators in recent years to develop unique boro styles of their own.

I mentioned earlier that Kapital’s core team has remained consistent, and the two people on board with the most creative control are Kiro Hirata and Eric Kvatek. Kiro himself described their joint process as “small ideas that come together, little by little, in a big puzzle” when creating the direction for each new catalog. Kiro leads creative direction of the garments themselves while Eric handles artistic direction for the photos of each lookbook. Because of this, the two have been able to develop a strong dialog throughout the years and have seemingly learned to better play into each other’s strengths and weaknesses. With that strong foundation, the Kapital team is able to create a completely unique experience with every lookbook they produce - all in alignment with Kapital’s broader philosophy and outlook. 

The books themselves explore modes of being: across culture and across time. Every year, the team submerges themselves into the setting or culture they are looking to explore, and evoke images and clothing that ties directly to it (with more publications for each season produced per year, post 2007). The way they express these modes will vary widely, ranging from meticulous recreation to theatrical exaggeration. They manage to cover an impressively broad range of cultures and lives in doing so. In the “Denim Monster” series along with the [2016 “Fukkin Kountry” lookbook](https://beta.archivepdf.net/scans/kapital/fukkin-kountry-lookbook) they explore New York City motorcycle culture and counterculture broadly, providing a unique look into the hard and fast lifestyle of the people involved, in an extreme and dramatic sense. 

This is contrasted with works like the 2005 “The Tide is High” lookbook, which provides a more intimate and personal look into the work, lifestyle and spirituality of native Jamaican people, in a more representational sense. I mention both of these because they exist on opposite ends of the timeline of the catalogs, and demonstrate Kiro and Eric’s abilities to portray topics in a multitude of ways, from homage to fanatical reenactment. Throughout these books Kapital is able to produce garments that assimilate perfectly into the lives of the people being portrayed, looking as though they have been worn for years on end in the very environments in which they are being portrayed.

Image from Kapital Fukkin Kountry Lookbook.

Even as the popularity and success of Kapital grows, they maintain a very D.I.Y process when creating their catalogs. Since as recent as 2013 (the creation and release of [KAPITAL WORLD by Hsiang Chin Moe](https://youtu.be/jNTufov1FGs), a fantastic look into the process of Kiro and Eric), the team was seen working with a small crew of photographers and models, using charity shop belts and shoes, and exploring environments on their own. This is not often how major fashion labels go about their campaigns, in that they typically have a huge budget and production team. Because of this D.I.Y process, the photos made thereafter often have a very raw, unproduced kind of feel. This is most apparent in Kapital’s early catalogs, where the team seemed to best tap into this feeling. That’s not to say anything negative about their later work, but there was a notable uptick in production quality and setup (which is a positive in its own way). 

Compelling storytelling through fashion photography is not easy either. Kapital, unsurprisingly, has managed to do it multiple times in a very captivating way. One of the best examples of this type of storytelling came from the 2006 catalog, Aloha Brigade. Amidst the typical display of portraits, landscapes, and clothing for that season's theme, there were 6 pages that had small portions of a hand written story through sections of fragmented text. The story is written through the perspective of a 12 year old boy who follows his grandfather on horseback and details stories of his grandfather’s past, his own dreams.

Another great example of storytelling in their lookbooks came from the Spring 2008 catalog “Sea Gypsies”. In this case, the team still used handwritten messages over select photographs, though in a less structured and more sporadic nature than their previous examples. Though less direct, these fragments of text helped to contextualize the visual story being spun by the clothes and photographs: to evoke relationships, beliefs, and memories.

Looking at older works of art through new lenses of analysis or perspectives is always important. That’s why it’s important to talk about cultural appropriation when looking at Kapital’s work broadly, as their catalogs largely center on the depiction of a broad set of diverse cultures and geographies. I would also like to preface that I, personally, do not belong to many of the subcultures covered in Kapital’s catalog, and am speaking purely from outsider observation contextualized against much of the current discourse. 

A lot of the current discussions surrounding the usage of cultural and religious themes/imagery is around making the distinction between appropriation and appreciation. Which is a very worthwhile conversation to have, because historically, many of the perspectives and cultures being depicted in these works have often been marginalized, being left out of the broader artistic conversation and subjected to othering or exoticism (A 2014 interview with Kerry James Marshall did a good job of explaining this phenomenon in art history - link at the bottom). And that is solely within the context of artistic depiction, many of these communities continue to face hardship directly as a result of long-standing, systemically racist and prejudicial structures. The fashion system is no stranger to that, as the broader set of standards continue to be informed by Eurocentric perspectives. All this to say that the appropriation discussion is important, and is very important to view older work through this lens. 

This is by no means to say that Kapital deliberately participates or participated in cultural appropriation, but reflecting on their work through that perspective can be informative. The usage of traditional Japanese garment techniques and imagery can be read, to me, as an act of appreciation, given the label's Japanese heritage and tight relationship to the traditional denim processing techniques of the region they come from, Kojima Japan. This is a bit of a more difficult distinction to make for some of the other catalogs though. We can examine this, again, in the 2006 “Aloha Brigade” catalog, which explores imagery and themes surrounding the lives and culture of indigenous Cherokee people. 

On the one hand, I would argue that the meticulous recreation of traditional garments for creations’ sake is appreciative, as the team would have to come to understand the intricacies of the garments themselves and what goes into creating them - a deliberate act of learning. On the other hand, Kapital’s commonplace usage of (appearingly) ethnically European models to portray some of these cultural garments can be read as theatrical - seemingly removed from the point of exploring the culture and most importantly, the people in it (especially knowing that compelling portraiture is a big part of Eric’s work). The idea of entirely using components of these cultures for financial benefit (the active sale of their clothing in alignment with that given catalog) could be seen as appropriative. 

Ultimately, this is not always an easy distinction to make, though intention is one of the biggest factors in outlining that distinction in a given work. And this is also only examining one particular catalog and one particular subculture, of which I personally do not belong. Additionally, seeing that these catalogs pre-date much of the current discourse around culture appropriation, it’s not surprising that we may see some things as questionable within the current lens. But we should take the time to interrogate any important work of art that way, to keep up with more informative and more inclusive perspectives.

In keeping with the conversation about usage of visual themes from other cultures, I would argue that in recent years, Kapital has pushed in an interesting direction. They have continued to pursue an eccentric and unique approach to their styling, but are seemingly shifting their focus from one individual culture per lookbook to an all encompassing approach, using styling and patterns from all sorts of global sources. This is an interesting approach, and can be read as using their clothing as a means of curation and appreciation of multiple cultures and stylings into a cohesive piece of work. And to do this all in keeping with their usage of traditional Japanese fabrics and garment making processes as well! By and large it is an interesting approach and not something you often see. The way I feel about them now is how I always have: utmost respect for committing to eccentricity. 

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All in all, looking into the work of Kapital is no easy task, and writing a digestible or all encompassing piece on their philosophy is harder than it looked to be at the outset. Their team has managed to cover so many themes and in doing so develop a truly unique visual language for themselves, both in their garments and in their photography. That, in itself, could be the philosophy: maintaining individuality and authenticity by any means necessary. Regardless of how you feel about the clothes themselves, you cannot argue with Kapital’s cultural potency, and the lasting impact they've continued to have on other labels and young creatives alike. And I think that influence will be lasting, given the recent appreciation of new and archive Japanese fashion - my (and many others) introduction to the world of Kapital. I am happy to have been introduced and we encourage you to browse through a [selection of works hosted exclusively on ARCHIVE.pdf](https://beta.archivepdf.net/scans/kapital)!

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When looking at the unique world of Japanese fashion culture both past and present, it is almost impossible to overlook Kapital.

The Legacy of Kapital: The Philosophy & Cultural Depth Behind the Cult Japanese Brand

Raf Simons is one of the most important and influential designers to date. He graduated from the LUCA School of Arts in 1991 initially designing furniture, though changing his artistic focus to fashion following his exposure to [Martin Margiela](https://www.archivepdf.net/post/from-margiela-tabi-boots-to-high-end-punks-cultural-appropriation-in-fashion)’s work in Paris (namely autumn 1989). His eponymous label started in 1995 and has been creatively independent since, while he’s done creative direction at Jil Sander, Dior and Calvin Klein. He’s spent a majority of his work covering youth culture, managing to capture a raw sense of beauty in the process, a beauty that is truly hard to describe. It's an attitude of sorts that maintains a quiet sense of conviction for what it looks to establish beyond itself. 

He asserts his vision with direct and indirect allusions to different modes of being, all the while casting a wide net of visual references to various artists and cultural products (most notably his work with Peter de Potter, Willy Vanderperre, Peter Saville, David Sims and more recently Sterling Ruby and Brian Calvin, to name a few). Alongside visual references, Raf is able to intertwine emotional atmospheres synonymous with being young: rebellion, curiosity, addiction, triumph, independence, belonging, and self fortification (to name a few). Raf’s unique ability to capture and maintain these feelings aesthetically has kept his work relevant to youth today.

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He does this effectively through curation as well, most notably his 2003 work *The Fourth Sex* which was co-curated with Francesco Bonami. It’s 440 pages and is seriously worth reading. The book was produced amidst arguably the best decade for Raf Simons - his early work  from roughly 1995 to 2005. It’s sometimes hard to describe why, but the shows throughout these years seemed to best encapsulate the raw energy and unique attitude Raf set out to establish. Some of his most iconic individual garments were produced at this time too, notably the AW01 Riot Bomber, AW02 Nebraska and Virginia Creeper raglans and hoodies, SS03 Consumed Button Up, AW03 “Closer” Parkas, and the hand painted SS04 hoodies/pants/cloaks to name a few. All of these garments have since reached a sort of icon status and all continue to fetch absurd prices online.

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In this article, I’m going to focus on the Spring/Summer 2004 collection, [“May the Circle Be Unbroken”](https://in-the-name-of-raf.tumblr.com/tagged/ss04), a pivotal moment for the label. In retrospect, it’s up there with the very best of his collections. Raf had achieved a level of creative freedom after a number of semi- successful shows and had just premiered his now critically acclaimed *“Closer”* collection with the help of Peter Saville. SS04 is a shining moment amidst some of his best seasons to date. As I mentioned earlier, Raf’s work is sometimes an act of curation - the process by which symbolism and concepts from seldom combined worlds culminate into wearable art. It will be hard not to be biased in writing this article, because the book Siddhartha is deeply meaningful to me, making it difficult not to break into an endless rambling of how important and substantial it is, instead of a real analysis of its themes. I would like to imagine Raf approached it the same way when conceptualizing this collection: a love letter to a book that likely aided his journey as a young person, the same way it has aided mine (and hopefully now yours too).

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Siddhartha was written in 1922 by Hermann Hesse (soon approaching its 100th anniversary), and is considered to be one of the most important coming of age novels of the 20th century. It’s difficult to be brief about the themes and meanings of Siddhartha as it is packed with symbolism, allusions to ancient Hindu, Buddhist, Gnostic and Ascetic teachings, as well as metaphors of development and growth. It's surprisingly dense for such a short book at only 152 pages. The book follows a young man named Siddhartha who lives along the same timeline as The Buddha. The name Siddhartha is composed of two sanskrit words: siddha (meaning achieved) and artha (meaning goal). 

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It’s a fitting name for the young man in question. Siddhartha grew up quietly as a Brahmin’s son next to his friend Govinda, practicing the art of silent meditation and contemplation of the Atman (being the eternal soul or spirit). They grew up looking to achieve enlightenment together. He soon comes to find that he will not find the Atman on the path he has been given, and needs to establish himself separate from the life afforded to him. We then get to follow his pursuit of enlightenment and growth by establishing and abandoning different means of being and presenting, amidst a world of pain, malevolence and confusion. He faces self-deception, dissatisfaction, and a rapidly changing relationship with the natural and spiritual world around him, all the while looking to form a sense of internal identity in the name of something bigger. 

This initial principle is, to me, similar in ways to the persistent struggle of the youth to establish identity and pursue their own enlightenment by their own means of action. It bridges a connection to the youth of our century, who face the same dissatisfaction, self deception, and confusion towards the world around them, all while chasing enlightenment. Raf’s work has always been contingent on this moment, the moment that a young person decides to forgo the life familiar to them in chase of something more. 

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There are a lot of visual and graphic references to the themes of the book in the SS04 collection. I see this as a sort of “setting of the scene”. The original book itself relies heavily on depictions of the natural world, and paints a beautiful picture in the mind of the reader that lays out the importance of nature as a theme. The environment of the 2003 show was anything but conventional for Paris fashion, taking place in the Parc Floral de Paris, an area almost entirely covered in forest and greenery (making the primarily light color palette stand out). The clothing plays heavily into themes of nature as well. Most accessories resemble traditional beadwork and incorporate semi precious stones and sticks along with small charms and pendants referencing Gautama Buddha and other religious symbology. The models also walk barefoot through the grass and some of them are seen only wearing pants with no shirt. To me both of these assert a statement about nature in that the models bodies are less tethered to material items and more directly connected to the natural, potentially a statement on Siddhartha’s time with the Samanas. 

The color palette is difficult to contend with for me. It’s obvious that a lighter palette is used because it’s a Spring/Summer show, but it’s hard for me to directly attach meaning to it. Descriptions of the characters in the book don’t do much to help understand what Siddhartha was wearing, as it generally was not a  and in some looks are shown wearing as little as a single garment on their bodies. This seems to assert something about our connection to nature, by removal of material barriers to the environment. It depicts the clothes we wear as both a removal from and simultaneous connection to the natural world around us. The most direct references are the graphics with abstract depictions and quotes from the 1962 edition of the book seen on standout pieces and most prominently on the printed/patchwork blankets and cloaks.  There are graphic references to events in the book’s timeline and concepts such as skulls (likely referencing Siddhartha’s near suicide), meditative poses, abstract schematic-like depictions of what, to me, are modern components of connecting object to spirituality and identity (see the back of the hand painted hoodie and embroidered on button down iterations), as well as black and white depictions of characters in different periods of the book. 

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The color palette is a bit difficult to contend with. It is easy just to say that a lighter palette was used in keeping with it being a Spring/Summer show, but I think it’s more conscious than that. In an abstract sense, I associate the muted, quiet color palette with the act of meditation and contemplation. There isn't any reference to this specific color in the book, but a core principle of Siddhartha’s self development and eventual self discovery comes from the act of quiet internal action, and I tend to picture the garments Siddhartha  wears all the while being light and airy seeing as Indian summers are hot and humid. In some practices, traditional Brahmin garbs are primarily white color palettes with small accents of color, in the same way that the primarily all white looks for this show have small accents of similar colors. 

The cuts are very different though as Raf follows suit with his more typical silhouettes (like all-white iterations of the bomber and perfecto jacket, as well as hoodies and loungewear). This fact would call into question cultural appropriation (especially considering it was customary for Raf to use predominantly white models, as was typical at the time), but with the cuts being different and no confirmation of traditional Brahmin garments being the direct inspiration point, it’s hard to say (along with this show taking place before cultural appropriation was a factor often considered by major fashion houses). Raf seems to create an indescribable atmosphere. It’s in some senses bold and stark in contrast to its environment but also seems quiet and contemplative. As if each person walking is on the brink of actualization; part of their own story.

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Following his departure from home, Siddhartha embarks on a path of extremes in pursuit of the Atman. Alongside Govinda, he renounces material comforts as a travelling Ascetic who practices fasting and assimilation into nature and solitude. He suffers all the pain brought on by the natural world in order to conquer it and all of its severity, but is still discontent. They then follow that by pursuing the teachings of The Buddha, where he finds the teachings unsatisfactory, leaving Govinda to stay and him to start anew. He then crosses the river of his youth into the city with the help of a kind and simple Ferryman, who practices perception of life through the lens of nature. In the city he transforms his life of non-possession into a life of materialism and opulence in pursuit of love from a courtesan named Kamala, with whom he learns about love and unknowingly births a son. Over years, his love and internal spirit are corrupted by greed and an affliction with alcohol and gambling. When realizing the state of his life, he abandons Kamala and his possessions and returns to the river basin to commit suicide, where he is greeted and saved by a now older Govinda, who is still a follower of the Buddha, yet to achieve enlightenment. Govinda goes on to continue his journey and Siddhartha assumes a life next to the Ferryman who helped him in the first place, to learn to study the river and examine the events of his life. 

Through the river, Siddhartha learns of the interweaving, persistent continuity of life as an unbroken chain, and of his place in it. Years later, Kamala and her son approach to cross the river and Kamala is killed, leaving Siddhartha to his son. His son then abandons him and forges a path of his own, forgoing the care and teachings of his father in pursuit of his own enlightenment. This breaks Siddhartha’s heart, but through the river learns to accept it as part of the cycle in which he belongs. The novel finishes with Govinda visiting Siddhartha, who is now the Ferryman, and is seen by many as having been enlightened. Siddhartha explains that enlightenment is not taught, but communicated through unity and compassion, along the continuous unbreaking flow of life, like that of a river. Govinda then kisses Siddhartha’s forehead, and they both share enlightenment together. 

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In some practices, traditional Brahmin garments are primarily white in color palette with small accents of color, in the same way that the primarily all white looks for this show have small accents of similar colors. The cuts are very different though as Raf follows suit with his more typical silhouettes (like all-white iterations of the bomber and perfecto jacket, as well as hoodies and loungewear). This fact would call into question cultural appropriation (especially considering it was customary for Raf to use predominantly white models, as was typical at the time), but with the cuts being different and no confirmation of traditional Brahmin garments being the direct inspiration point, it’s hard to say (along with this show taking place before cultural appropriation was a factor often considered by major fashion houses). Raf seems to create an indescribable atmosphere. It’s in some senses bold and stark in contrast to its environment but also seems quiet and contemplative. As if each person walking is on the brink of actualization; part of their own story. 

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“May The Circle Be Unbroken” is a fitting name for a tribute to Siddhartha. I see the circle in question as a return or cycle. Siddhartha begins the book by the riverside with his companion Govinda, quietly mastering the process of meditation, listening, and contemplation. This quiet listening is the action that prompts him to embark on his own in the first place, to question the ideals and processes he’s been afforded, to leave and seek his own enlightenment. By the end he has come to understand the extremes of the human condition. He has persisted through self deception, the severity of nature, opulence, and internal suffering all to find that the initial action, the perception and contemplation of the world around him next to the river as a child, was the action of enlightenment, and that he is a part of an unbroken, ever flowing life.

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He learns that the process of enlightenment is not to be taught or learned, but to be communicated through experience and compassion; to be radiated unto others. That, to me, is the circle to be unbroken. The path that youth now (and forever) will inevitably follow: a calling to find themselves in the world, and to embark on a journey. All to find that enlightenment will not be taught to them (nor will they teach it), but uniquely experienced along the flow of events of their lives. It is an emission through being: and through unity it is shared. In an abstract way, that seems to me to be the source of inspiration for Raf Simons’ attempts over decades to communicate through young people. It’s the monolithic spirit that art looks to portray and capture, generation after generation. It looks to come as close as possible to describing an atmosphere, a unique radiating energy that is not to be communicated in the first place. It is the feeling of paths not yet embarked upon, circles not yet closed and extremes waiting to be lived. It is the essence of life through youth. 

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Let's shift our focus to the Spring Summer 2004 collection, “May the Circle Be Unbroken”, a pivotal moment for the label.

Collection Deep-Dive: Raf Simons SS2004 'May The Circle Be Unbroken'

There's a particular allure I feel and have always felt regarding Martin’s debut show in 1989. It presents a level of artistic confidence that is incredibly inspiring: a notion that, with the right vision, groundbreaking work is possible from the get-go. Look by look, there is a feeling that what is being presented is entirely self assured, containing the framework or an entire universe to be decoded in years to come. But that's what makes Spring 1989 special, encoded within is not just the philosophical foundation for the future of Martin’s work, but the philosophical foundation for so many designers of my generation and future designers, a feeling that nothing is impenetrable to deconstruction: *everything* is on the table. 

My enamored rambling about this show is neither new nor helpful to anyone wanting strictly information, of course. But I think it’s important for people to understand that this show wields emotional resonance, that the elements put into it can, if you let it, create a feeling akin to viewing a masterpiece painting or a groundbreaking album.

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The show took place at the Cafe De La Gare in Paris, in the 4e arrondissement, notably outside of the seemingly universal and all-necessary 1er arrondissement arrangements for fashion houses at the time. This convention was rarely broken as many editors and press members had become accustomed to near royal treatment, often having the seating layout and accommodations adjusted to fit their stature and importance. This was not the case for this show. This show was to occur on the Maison’s own terms. Most discussions regarding runway shows begin at the first look. That is not the case in this presentation. As guests were arriving, the loudspeakers were playing the busy hum of the team backstage, finalizing things before the show began. It's a small act all things considered, but contextualized against Martin's broader ambition to bring process to the forefront, this is perfectly in tune. It’s a reminder that what you are experiencing is a product of many hands, hands that have likely worked tirelessly to bring all of it together and continue to work tirelessly up until the end. I imagine these hands would continue to alter and perfect the looks should time have permitted, but that was not possible: the show was going to happen. 

This hum is abruptly interrupted by the overwhelmingly loud introduction to The Velvet Underground’s “Guess I’m Falling In Love,” a  fast paced track released alongside some of the band’s best work. Using the Velvet Underground feels very conscious, they were a band known for disrupting a seemingly impermeable landscape, changing much of what followed, in tune with what Martin must have known he would accomplish. Additionally, the band was known for playing exceptionally loud in early live shows, ushering in a new era for music in a blaring and unforgiving way. In just the first show, Martin did just that. 

The first model then steps out. She is shirtless, wearing simple unfinished white trousers, a jabot tied into a hand bra, and the iconic black Tabi boots. On her chest is the faint impression of a V-neck tee shirt, made visible by sunburn. The hair and makeup appear undone and unkempt in a perfectly personal way, with stark black eyes and deep red lips. 

This is not at all in line with the typical image of a runway model for 1989, or for any of the 1980’s at all for that matter. Inge Grognard, makeup artist for much of Martin’s early work (and being 14 at the time), was in charge. She described Spring 1989 as chaotic, saying that preparation rooms were dark and many of the supplies needed for the show were not yet available (namely the stark and heavy black eye makeup) Like the rest of the team she was able to improvise, finding a non cosmetic pigment that was mixed with applicable grease to use in and around the models eyes, sometimes covering them completely in the way that you’d see eyes crossed out in a confidential document. This, along with the sheer veils, created an atmosphere of anonymity, which I will detail in a later section.

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The next couple of looks followed closely to the first, showing predominantly simple white garments and a number of unique and brash hair and makeup motifs. A number of important garment motifs were put forward too, all of which were maintained throughout the Maison’s history. Some of the notable ones are the slim but pointed shoulders, garments engineered to be worn backwards comfortably, and multilayered ensembles, all with finishing details like exposed seams and unfinished hems. In the same way that Yohji Yamamoto or Rei Kawakubo were picking monochromatic palettes to emphasize shape and cut, so did Martin within this show. When a set of garments are limited to a short list of colors to work with, the shapes and cuts must do the talking. Martin would of course go on to experiment with a whole range of palettes and even prints, but this show is particularly interesting to me because he seems set on defining and spearheading his Maison’s legacy through cut and shape. 

The show was said to be split into multiple different sections based on palette layout, from white to red to black and then to the full ensemble. As mentioned before the white section is simple, relying on an almost entirely monochromatic palette and a strict emphasis on attitude and cut. This is continued through the red and black section mind you, but the white section seems to convey the Maison’s themes particularly well, though I do think the “Margiela shoulder” is better suited and made more prominent by the color black for these particular blazers and overcoats.

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The red section introduces a number of staple motifs that the house would go on to expand in the future, most notably the now-iconic full face masks, first appearing in an all red, multilayered look. This look contains so much of the Maison’s outlook for change: predominantly the active celebration of anonymity. This was conveyed in multiple ways: through Martin’s reluctance to speak with press or appear in photos, the use of white trench coats (typically the changing room uniform of models backstage) on the entirety of his team and on the runway, and finally, the masks that appear from show to show. In an era that was defined by supermodels and celebrities being dressed by eccentric and individualized designers (all of which were very famous and very recognizable), Martin was presenting a new idea for communication through fashion. He opted to remain anonymous, placing heavy emphasis on the importance of his team and using predominantly street-cast models (some of which he covered the face of entirely, as mentioned above). 

These things may seem small, but contextualized against the broader state of the fashion community predating him, one that was predicated on the unquestioned power of fame and iconography, it is not hard to see that Martin was desperately needed. He was, in a way, bringing fashion back to earth, letting everyone know that the action of attitude through fashion was something that anyone could do, in a truly artistically conscious way.  The rest of the red sections follows suit, using layering and trompe l’oeil techniques, along with more iterations of the veil presented in the first look. This was combined with the same imperial and striking shoulders, pointed collars, exposed seam tailoring and a bold red iteration of the Tabi boot, with a solid black heel. Seeing these motifs continue from white into red and then into black give them an entirely different feel, and overall help to reaffirm the audience's understanding of Martin’s vision through cuts alone. 

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The red show transitions subtly into the black section of the show. The white section was abruptly interrupted by the first all red ensemble, but the red section makes this transition slowly, having small black details appear throughout the red looks and eventually into completely black dresses and jackets. The all monochromatic and predominantly black looks help with the stark contrast that the hair and makeup was looking to achieve as well. There is something so captivating about the pointed shoulders and collars in this particular color when paired with the black eye makeup shown throughout, it’s all very empowered. The small cream/white elements that typically underpin these garments are really complimented as well in the process, serving to accentuate the more outlandish motifs and cuts as well as making the smaller layering techniques more clear, where in single color looks they were more obscured. The first look of this section sets the tone so well. 

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Another mainstay of the Maison was (and still is) their artisanal line, now signified by line 0 on the iconic numbers label. While this particular insignia had not yet been developed by the team, there were still many garments produced entirely by hand by select staff at the Maison, often exploring themes in a more conceptual manner. This creates a space for Martin and the team to explore ideas with complete and uninhibited creative freedom. This eventually panned out into garments such as broken ceramic plates refashioned into a vest, standard denim jeans painted black, white and pink to chip away over time and convey age, and parkas constructed entirely out of winter gloves, to name a few famous examples. With these garments they are able to ignore the sell-ability and wearability aspects they typically have to meet (though they now sell for and are worn by die-hard fans), opting to focus entirely on the conceptual. As it currently stands, there weren’t any garments artisanally produced for the debut show. What is interesting though, is that the *idea* for artisanal and conceptual garments had already been considered, and actually developed during and after the show. Laid onto the catwalk was a long stretch of white fabric, presumably marked and scuffed by the models as the show went on.

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In preparation for the second show, Autumn Winter 1989, the same stretch of fabric was rolled back out in-studio, and various models walked across it once again, this time with the soles of their Tabi boots painted red. This, of course, left a bold and contrasted impression on the used runway fabric, which was then constructed into an artisanal vest that was to be worn by a model for Autumn 1989. Small things like this are why Martin’s work is as special as it is, there is always consistent emphasis on a conceptual and immaterial theme at hand, that cannot be bought. It inspires consideration, not consumption. Which is entirely against what the fashion system promotes! 

These are small acts in the grand scheme of the Maison’s history, and anyone not immediately in the know of them would probably associate Martin’s legacy with the more popular motifs like the Tabi boots and deconstruction. But these artisanal garments carry so much weight, embedded in each and every one of them is some element of the Maison’s DNA. Furthermore, in the action of creating an item that is not necessarily predicated on wear or seasonal trends, the Maison transcends conventional uses of clothing, instead portraying individual examples of their work as pieces of art: being made by hand in the same way that a painter would create a painting or a sculptor would sit with and contemplate their sculpture. It, along with much of the Maison’s output, posits the idea that clothing can be transcendental, holding within an entirely conceptual universe that conveys themes as large and complex as consumption, transience, belonging, and many more. These are conversations we are used to having now, but in Martin’s era they were quite novel.

Ultimately, Martin is one of the biggest reasons that many of us in this community feel they can do the things they do. As with many other enthusiasts my age, there is this tireless effort to confirm and defend fashion’s place within the world of art, to make the case that there are substantive and conceptual works we can engage with that defy the frivolity typically associated with the form. And it is not often made easy. 

The current fashion zeitgeist is rife with problems: ecological harm, exploitation, appropriation, patriarchal norms, body shaming, and many, many more. It would be foolish to say (or expect) any individual artist to address these issues in an all-encompassing and resolving manner. And there are certainly elements of Martin’s work that neglected these elements. But *good* work in any of these directions should be noted when it happens, and Martin was quite ahead of his time in this regard. His emphasis on re-use and appreciation of already-existing clothes is a notion that's found its way into popular consciousness nowadays, his attempts at deconstructing the patriarchal and objectifying impediments placed on women by the very form he existed within, and his dedication to finding and promoting beauty in non-consumable, non purchasable concepts (that still held artistic meaning) were all unprecedented for his time and his industry. 

And that precedence is still important today, though I don’t think a designer has yet to step to what Martin created. But there certainly is hope, there are many emerging designers that are addressing the industries’ issues in a meaningful and impactful way. There is truly infinite potential, and in some respects, we have Martin to thank for it.

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It’s important for people to understand that this show wields emotional resonance.

Maison Martin Margiela's First Show, Spring 1989: Deconstruction and Interpretation

Calvin

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The yearly lookbooks that are released are most pertinent to understanding the unique way Kapital approaches the world - acting as a visual language of the philosophy of Kapital. They produce these with full creative control with often little change to the core team, adhering to guidelines set only by themselves with seemingly no limitation. This in itself seems to defy the way we collectively approach the fashion process, to remain true and unique at all costs. They have and continue to participate in eccentric defiance. 

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Aloha Brigade Lookbook

Rick Owens Forever

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Craig Green returned to the catwalk for the first time in two years this season, off calendar and from his studio in the outskirts of London. Following the passing of his father late last year, Green delivered a collection that conveyed the abrupt maturation that a ceaseless and indifferent world requires; it called to mind an excerpt from Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther: “And so I go my fearful way betwixt heaven and earth, and all their active forces; and all I can see is a monster, forever devouring, regurgitating, chewing and gorging.” 

Green’s work reflects a young man facing the weight of the world, scraping together a sense of security with whatever is at hand. In this collection: ponchos made of handkerchiefs and bibs printed with childish symbols of fire trucks and tractors; leather jackets pieced together with protective shooting patches; your old man’s flannel tucked away in the closet for years. In suggesting safety and comfort, these offerings are more than enough to shape an adequate perspective of menswear. But the crucial component of Green’s makeshift masculinity is uncertainty: there’s a weariness, a fear of the unknown. At any moment, the hard shell could crack open and reveal a boyish innocence. This persistent examination of masculinity, fraught with tension between youthful naivete and pragmatic maturity, is grounded in a completely novel perspective on clothing that firmly distinguishes Green from his contemporaries in menswear. 


This sense of protection is further driven by Green’s use of unconventional materials typically reserved for more functional contexts. Sometimes it’s as simple as lacing together two pieces of tarp through grommets at the shoulders and wearing it as a poncho. Other times, the decontextualization is more striking: for his Fall 2020 collection, there were sets of jackets and pants made with the rubber of life rafts and inflatable vests (seemingly functional in case of aquatic emergency), followed by tent-like structures of venetian blinds and printed sheer fabric. Another example is the vibrant ‘papel picado’ (“punched paper”) flag-like garments inspired by Mexican folk art from the Spring 2020 collection. 


Each collection from Green is based around the principles of function and protection. Despite the lofty concepts presented throughout his work, Green designs entirely functional workwear. Within this subgenre of menswear, he’s steadily developed a signature uniform: quilted chore jackets, raincoats, and straight-leg trousers are the core offerings season-to-season. The sense of community that the uniform provides is another form of shelter: in an interview with Tim Blanks, Green said, “That kind of protection aspect is something I’ve always been interested in, but I think that also kind of links back to the idea of uniforms, because they’re protective in a way that… you become part of a group when you wear a uniform. And that idea of being part of something is protective in some way.” 


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Green’s design process is informed by an approach to fashion design as a mechanic to an engine, or an architect to a home. This treatment of clothing as a mechanism allows Green to reduce menswear to smaller components and piece it back together. Structural elements like straps, ties, rope, and industrial fabrics are the nuts and bolts of his design language. References to geometry and pattern schematics appear in various collections, like the apron prints from Spring 2019 and grids from Spring 2020. Recurring abstract wooden sculptures and mechanical structures turn the human body into part of a larger, more complex machine. 

Yet Green’s true genius is his symbolic language of masculinity. As a medium, fashion is rooted in semiotics. Menswear particularly contains distinct, rigid codes compared to womenswear; the set of available symbols is far more limited. Where Green demonstrates mastery of his craft is the way he deconstructs and rearranges these symbols to create a system that, rather than make broad declarations, suggests trace notions of masculinity that reach into the collective unconscious. He forays into the nebulous realm of childhood and adolescence, when the world was illuminated by possibility and coated with the gloss of naivete, and there were knights and samurai and warriors, and the next great quest lay waiting in the woods. 


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But we age; reality sets in. Careers and relationships solidify, our parents become old, friends get married and start families. It feels like only a couple years ago that you were just entering a world where everything under the sun was within reach. Navigating this matrix requires a shell, some kind of protection against the pressures and responsibilities of the external world. And so, we craft an identity the best we can, piecing together notions of maturity and resolve. We look to the established symbols, but there’s no roadmap, no manual. 

Craig Green possesses a keen ability to convey these subtle precarities of masculinity and maturity. The architectural structures that he builds through clothing and sculpture are secure and protective, yet simultaneously delicate. At any moment, the strings that hold a quilted jacket together or ropes that bind a heavy tarp could unravel. Underneath the facade of protection, there is a fragility in Green’s clothes that reflect the uncertainty of crafted identity. The excess of functionality, like bags made in a rubber factory that makes anesthetic pumps, or giant, enveloping parkas layered with down vests, reflects the compartmentalization we use to maintain composure. 


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The collections of Craig Green feel like tribes of misfits embarking on a journey, setting out for the great unknown. If the boy from Where the Wild Things Are invited other kids to the island, they might eventually come to the same sartorial conclusions as Green. There is a boyish curiosity with mechanisms, systems, and how things work that informs a raw and instinctive use of materials in his clothing: if a tent can keep the rain away, just take it apart and make it into a raincoat. Green conjures memories of unzipping a sleeping bag and running around the woods, wearing it as a cape– memories of zip-off pants being completely novel inventions. These nostalgic sentiments of childhood are deeply personal and evoke strong emotional responses; they remind us of a time when the world was wide open, before the constrictions of societal expectations and roles dampened the soul. 

And so, the intricate symbolism of Green’s Spring 2025 collection: the raw safety of jackets reconstructed from layers and layers of leather scraps, or leather belts stacked like a corset around the waist that were later slashed and splayed, reflecting the fragility of conventional stability. There was innocence in the tablecloth shirts and ponchos with simplistic figures of fire trucks and tractors; a naive sincerity in sweaters and knits thrown on top of each other, like a boy late for school trying to dress himself for winter. The show concluded with frayed tapestries, hand-woven with vivid depictions of florals and the raw beauty of the big blue sky. Craig Green invites us to rediscover something we left behind when it was time to ‘grow up and be a man.’ The world is a scary place; but Green’s radical vision of menswear equips us with the armor to face whatever lies ahead. 


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How the British designer is building a new language of masculinity.

Why Menswear Needs Craig Green

Fashion is relentless, and it is fickle. But few designers have experienced its frailties like Miguel Adrover. He entered fashion in the 90s amidst the peak of the “anti-fashion” movement, when the likes of Martin Margiela, Rei Kawakubo and the Antwerp Six had shifted the lens of luxury fashion from the antiquated ritz of legacy brands to a sharpened modernity that deconstructed the normative language of fashion design. Following this pivotal creative renewal, much of the fresh talent was swiftly bought out by massive retail conglomerates, namely LVMH and Kering. At the turn of the century, the focus shifted to unfettered commercialism, and independent designers were left to fend for themselves. As the fashion industry endured an identity crisis, Miguel Adrover cut through the confusion and chaos with sincerity and integrity. 

Born in 1965, Miguel Adrover grew up in the village of Calogne, a quaint seaside town of little more than 1000 people on the island of Majorca, Spain. He dropped out of school when he was 12 to work on the family farm enveloped by towering almond trees and livestock. After he served his mandatory military service from ages 17 to 19,  he made frequent trips to London, where he saw the birth of the punk and New Romantics movement. The vivid expressionism that bands like Bauhaus and The Cult gave through their moody music and sensual style inspired the Spaniard. Invigorated by the fresh urban energy that diverged from his humble roots, Adrover made up his mind to go to New York City. 

When Adrover arrived in New York in 1991, the city was in bad shape. Following a series of social and economic fallouts in the 80s, including the crack epidemic and AIDS crisis, the ensuing decade was wrought with sweeping disarray. Adrover took up work as a janitor and lived in a tiny East Village basement apartment with rodents for roommates. As he settled into the city, he was satiated by its vivid multiculturalism. The streets of New York are the ultimate mingling of social class, where a rich man in a perfectly tailored bespoke suit with a job in the financial district is seated next to a homeless man nodding off on the subway. 

Miguel Adrover infront of Horn NY shop featured in Harper's Bazaar.

Miguel Adrover and Kate Moss for Alexander McQueen.

Despite his lack of formal training, Adrover quickly found his footing in the local fashion scene. In 1995, he opened Horn Boutique with Douglas Hobbs, a small store that sold experimental brands like Asfour and Alexander McQueen. Adrover and McQueen had been close friends dating back to the former’s travels London. McQueen actually received the call for Givenchy while he was at Adrover’s home in Majorca, and the two arranged photoshoots on the island including an editorial for McQueen’s “Highland Rape” collection that was deemed too explicit for the press. He worked on a few of the Londoner’s early collections, sleeping in the studio for months at a time and assisting with interns. As compensation, Adrover received pieces from the collections that were sold at Horn, and the boutique soon became a hub for avant-garde designers from all over the world. After a few years of owning the store, Adrover was encouraged to take the next step into design.

The Clemente Soto Vélez Cultural Center in the Lower East Side held Miguel Adrover’s debut collection, “Manaus-Chiapas NYC.” Dim lighting offered a faint glow, and tall reeds sheltered either side of the thin plywood catwalk. A nude model adorned an unsettling mask made from dozens of sticks, quickly flanked by makeshift tunics and dresses with submachine guns slung across the body. The show depicted the journey of refugees making their way to the United States from South America: in Manaus, they dressed themselves in the skin of a 15-foot python as they fled the industrialization of the Brazilian Amazon; they later armed themselves with guns and bullet straps during the civil war in Chiapas, Mexico; in New York, one wore a suit made from a hundred-year-old American flag and an unfinished dress pieced together with newspaper prints. Another fashioned a miniskirt out of a Louis Vuitton handbag. The most alluring piece was a dirtied “I <3 NY” shirt with ruffled poof sleeves, which poetically juxtaposed the social cachet of a mundane tourist shirt with something typically reserved for ballrooms.

Photos of Miguel Adrover's first runway Manaus-Chiapas NYC in 1999.

The collection’s overt political sentiments were a far cry from the standard fashion fare of self-awareness discarded for escapism and bliss engendered by ignorance. Adrover was not shy to acknowledge the pain suffered in the real world, a disposition he maintained throughout his career. While the subject matter in this show was intense, Adrover’s references to non-European heritage were quite refreshing for such a eurocentric industry. Though designers have always explored different cultures, it’s often rooted in a sense of “exoticism,” while Adrover maintained a certain authenticity owed to his frequent global passages.

Word spread like wildfire that there was a hot new item in fashion, but the buzz hadn’t filled Adrover’s pocket. He roamed the garment district on his bicycle at night, searching for discarded fabric bolts and scraps wherever he could find them. Ironically, he was only able to stage his second show with a $2000 reimbursement from Vogue when a few of his samples were stolen from a Conde Nast closet.

A dollar bill stamped with an invitation marked AW 00’s “Midtown.” A supremely talented pauper is a fashion editor’s wet dream, and returning to the same venue as his debut, Adrover presented to a crowd that included Anna Wintour and Grace Coddington of American Vogue. The catwalk depicted a city intersection, with street traffic and scuttling rain as ambient accents to the soundtrack of soft classical music.



The collection asserted Miguel Adrover’s presence. The looks featured a heavy dose of asymmetry that mirrored New York’s polyphonic nature. High-low hemlines and bias-cut panels were used on soft knits and raw canvas alike. The shoulders of a navy sweater were replaced with Yankees ball caps, trousers with an Hermes belt resewn at the inseam then slashed and worked into a jacket. A model walked the runway with an inside-out Burberry trench coat, a gift from friend and patternmaker Peter Hidalgo. This caught Burberry’s attention, and the designer swiftly received a copyright lawsuit that was later dismissed. The collection’s standout was a tailored Victorian coat made from the salvaged and dirtied mattress covering of his neighbor, Quentin Crisp, who’d recently passed. His possessions were donated to the curb, including this mess of a bed that gave Adrover’s team rashes in the studio. 

Quentin Crisp Coat made from Miguel Adrover's recently deceased neighbors' mattress for A/W 2000 Midtown

Items from Miguel Adrover's A/W 2000 Midtown

After his first two collections, the Spainard was a certifiable star. Adrover’s team worked to produce well-made garments that featured exceptional tailoring. Recalling Martin Margiela’s similar disregard for conventional luxury standards, Adrover was insistent in preserving the memory attached to garments. Linda Dresner, a boutique owner, told AnotherMag, “Miguel was the innovator of originality. With him, old became new again.” Following a much-needed investment from Pegasus Group, a burgeoning retail conglomerate at the turn of the century, Adrover was poised for international success. 

Yet four years later, he would be forced to close his label. 

The first leg was kicked without warning. After several visits to Egypt, the perpetual foreigner found beauty in the middle-eastern garb of sweeping, floor-length caftans, tunics, jodhpurs, and turbans. Turned off by fashion’s sexualized vanity, he looked to the modest and restrained style he discovered abroad. Both Fall 2000’s “Meet East” and Spring 2001’s “Utopia” featured these attires in direct conversation with Western clothing, hallmarked in the former by an old Coca-Cola shirt worn over a bleached and distressed pinstripe caftan that could’ve been hundreds of years old. The fabrics were some of the designer’s most muddied and aged, as if they were drawn straight from the Nile. The latter collection drew the same references, and the throughline of this “East meets West” moment was held together by a refined sense of elegance, a quality that Adrover maintained no matter how hectic his various inspirations were.


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Cocacola tunic dress on runway for Miguel Adrover A/W 2001

Patchwork vest in Another Magazine from Miguel Adrover S/S 2001. 

Patchwork vest runway look from Miguel Adrover S/S 2001. 

Military uniform style look by Miguel Adrover from S/S 2001 in AnOther Magazine. 

Military uniform style look by Miguel Adrover from the S/S 2001 runway

It was the worst timing imaginable. “Utopia” was shown in New York on September 8, 2001. A frenzied public, American and international alike, accused Adrover of being sympathetic towards the Taliban’s misogyny and conservatism. Thanks in part due to the economic fallout of 9/11 alongside the controversy, Pegasus Group closed his label. 

Financial setbacks set the tone for the rest of his career. Adrover returned independently a year later with his Spring 2003 collection, “Citizen of the World,” where he rediscovered the streets of New York. The notion of global citizenry was reinforced explicitly by a caftan printed with the United Nations logo. Adrover decided to show both menswear and womenswear together, a move that further illustrates his cultural savvy. The collection anticipated the streetwear that would dominate the 2000s: baggy t-shirt dresses next to tailored suits, bandanas and do-rags with long jean shorts and tank tops, a set of pinstripe vest and shorts layered over a navy sweatsuit. 

But Adrover just wasn’t turning a profit. At this point he was self-sufficient, using cash from his savings account to stage presentations. The stores that still trusted him had trouble receiving the orders on time, and when they did arrive, customers weren’t impressed. Linda Dresner, a boutique owner who believed in the talent, reckoned with the reality of it all: “But these have been difficult times, and although his clothes were always very handsome and beautifully made, they were not commercially easy. Business was at a point where we didn't feel like going out on a limb anymore.”

Miguel Adrover United Nations Logo tunic from S/S 2003. 

Another look from Miguel Adrover S/S 2003. 

By this point, Adrover was showing only once a year, with the fashion calendar proving to be overwhelming. On his last leg, Adrover delivered Spring 2005’s “The Americans.” An exhaustive 96 look collection that illustrated the “Old West,” alluding to the rich visual history of cowboys and Native Americans. Many of Adrover’s hallmarks were present: a truly diverse casting of models including meso-American children hand-in-hand, strong tailoring, and an exploration of cultural clothing. Native motifs were blended with western suede and prairie gingham prints alongside classic American prep. A series of garments featured handmade cave-paintings of hands and buffalos. When a brand presents almost 100 looks, it’s hard not to think of it as throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks. If this sense of desperation wasn’t gathered during the show, it was made quite apparent when an exuberant Adrover, hand-in-hand with friends, ran across the stage wearing a shirt that said, “anyone seen a backer?”

"Anyone seen a backer?" Miguel Adrover closes S/S 2005.

Out of money and out of spirit, Adrover said goodbye to America. “Bush was re-elected and I gave up,” he told Colleen Nika. “I didn't want to live in a country torn by war I didn't believe in anymore. And I spent all my savings.” In his struggle for an uncompromising artistic vision, the fashion industry and bottom-line won out. For Adrover, the “why” was far more important than the “how.” After 14 years in New York, “it was time to go.”

By 2012, the fashion industry had morphed into the bloated monster we know today. The internet accelerated discourse and the global conversation forced business to move at a breakneck pace. The semiotics of clothing have diluted into simplistic symbols of social status, the same logos that Adrover mocked over a decade earlier. In an interview with Byronesque, Adrover lamented, “It’s hard to be a part of the industry in the way it works today. [Everything] is related to [corporations], related to [promoting] products that are not necessary, but we cannot get enough of it. You can never get enough of what you don’t need.” When asked what needs to change, the first thing he said was for LVMH to go into bankruptcy.

Eight years after his last independent collection, Adrover returned to New York with Fall 2012’s “Out of My Mind.” To create something fresh, he lost contact with everything related to fashion, removing himself entirely from the ecosystem to explore a new vocabulary for clothing. In the same theater as his rapturous debut, he looked back to the Amazon where he imagined a tribe of natives finding a downed airplane with luggage scattered about. In a moment of complete circularity and sustainability, clothes were used just as they were: Adrover did not create any new garments, nor utilize patterns and sewing machines, sidestepping conventional construction and extracting beauty from the banality of everyday clothes. 


Miguel Adrover packs up and moves to Majorca.

With no intention to sell the collection, Adrover was freed of any notion of compromise. His total decontextualization of fashion informed the collection- much of the layering was indecipherable in brilliant manipulations and contortions of garments. As with any Miguel Adrover collection, there was an undercurrent of cultural references. Here, he drew inspiration from Western Asian costume, most notably in the knitwear and hats worn by Yemeni goat herders. Always one for humor, some of the footwear was made of hands shaped into middle fingers and devil horns. 

The return of the beloved designer was an emotional deluge for everyone involved, none more so than Adrover himself. 2012 felt like a curtain call for an artist who wanted, and needed, one last go at things. Afterwards, Adrover retreated to Majorca and settled into a hermetic lifestyle.

Years later, while exploring the surrounding countryside of his family farm, Adrover stumbled across a covering that opened to a 300-year-old snake-infested well. The former designer shifted focus to photography, using the well as a studio for its intense lighting that recalls the dramatic shadows of “Caravaggio’s light.” Much of his new work shares the same experimentation with volume and drape established in his fashion design. 

Miguel Adrover wears personal archive for self portraits.

The inspiration that led Adrover to “Out of My Mind,” that compulsion to step back from the vulgarity of society, finds itself in much of his daily life– no drugs, no sex, and no cellphone for well over a decade. Yet contemporary culture often eschews these sentiments. In retrospect, Adrover’s eccentricity was that of a frantic seer shouting warnings of the impending apocalypse at indifferent passersby. Adrover’s influence extends into much of fashion today: Demna Gvalsalia clearly follows in the pursuit of a certain high-low fusion; Adrover’s raw, unfiltered approach and muddied romanticism is evident in someone like Elena Velez, a young designer dealing with the same financial problems and backlash that faced Adrover; and Adrover’s instinctual use of diverse and inclusive modeling is now the expectation. 

In the age of conveyor belt clothing and 2-D identities, any unease with the status quo is remedied with insipid commercialism. One must accept these terms; there’s little room for those who question the spectacle. 

Fashion could not afford Miguel Adrover.


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Miguel Adrover’s abrupt career illustrates the promise and pitfalls that follow authenticity in fashion.

The Illumination of Miguel Adrover

This past Men’s Fashion Week in Paris, nestled in the 11th Arrondissement of the fashion capital, Tokyo-based magazine [Sabukaru](https://www.instagram.com/sabukaru.online/) hosted their inaugural multi-brand showroom that featured independent brands from around the world. 

Though much attention during Fashion Week is given to the extravagant productions from massive luxury brands, events like these are essential for developing the next wave of designers. “It was always my dream to do a showroom,” said Sabukaru founder [Adrian Bianco](https://www.instagram.com/mrbianco/). “I always felt like having an impact in the fashion world behind the scenes was always something I dreamed about.” As Sabukaru has grown into a multi-faceted platform, originating from a blog he started almost eight years ago, Bianco feels like there is an opportunity to promote smaller designers that are moving the needle from the ground level. “Through our magazine work, I found so many designers and brands where I was like, ‘wait a second, why is no one taking care of them?’ So we put together a list of our favorite brands and put them in a showroom.”

The brands all share a common thread distinguished by a devotion to unadulterated expression. While many smaller labels lean on commercial growth with pieces that are easily understood, the items at the showroom demonstrated thoughtfulness; garments that require effort and challenge both creator and consumer. “It shows the direction of our showroom. We showcase creativity, extraordinary creativity, because we have to; this is what makes fashion interesting." 

ARCHIVE.pdf was fortunate enough to attend the event and get a firsthand look at the work. 

As background music played, ranging from Japanese city pop to Aphex Twin, there was a certain openness and warmth in the air that truly thrives in these intimate settings. The event almost felt like old friends getting back together after years apart, excited to show each other what they’d been working on. Meaningful clothing depends on the cultivation of these independent networks, else the tangible, human element is swept under the rug. 

As Adrian mused towards the end of our conversation, “With these young designers, you’re buying a cultural universe, you’re buying a story, you’re buying a potential legacy. I feel like you’re buying what fashion is meant for.” 

Marked by their independence and innovation, the following designers and brands represent the next-generation of creatives that are shaping the future of fashion. 

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From GT cars to gun design, Metal Gear Solid to the evolution of snakes into dragons as a journey of self-mastery, designer S is guided by mechanical complexity. Working out of his studio in LA, the force behind [Heightened-Sense](https://www.instagram.com/heightenedsense/) consistently pushes the limits of his designs with new shapes and materials. “Everything is done at a small-scale manufacturing level. We produce special assembly, hand finished products that are meant to last and age with time, not against it.” He’s spent the last two years working with a team in Japan to develop a new fabric textile known as “soft metal,” a three-layered fabric that places aluminum foil between cotton, maintaining a heavier silhouette while molding to the wearer’s body over time. 

“*Wearable armor*”, he calls it. “This was a big accomplishment to better translate the metal and armored silhouettes I drew inspiration from into wearable products, which birthed the product line ‘wearable armor’.  I had to develop completely new pattern systems and construction around the attributes of this textile.” Each piece takes anywhere between 6-12 hours to produce. 

Heightened Sense: 2022 'A Snake Cannot Eat A Dragon'

*Heightened Sense 2022 'A Snake Cannot Eat a Dragon'. Photographed by [Yudo Kurita](https://www.instagram.com/yudo_kurita/?img_index=1), Modelled by [Emilio Ventura Velasquez](https://www.instagram.com/zero_ko0l/?img_index=1)*

One of his latest experiments involved the use of a translucent leather that removes all pigmentation, leaving only the skin and veins visible. “I stumbled across a small piece of this leather and tested it with a tattoo machine I have in my studio. Once I confirmed that this process worked I had to figure out a way to get more of this leather,” explained S. After constructing the jacket, he worked with a [local tattoo artist](https://www.instagram.com/dogfood.tattoo) to develop the wildly intricate Irezumi imagery. “This particular piece inspired by the work of Fukushi Masaichi was aimed to feel as though it was the removed skin of a Yakuza member reworked into a contemporary blazer (Yakuza Skin Bla7er). The tattoo work alone took over 40 hours to complete.”

Bianco referred to S as a mad scientist; there’s certainly a level of alchemy involved when one fuses such design-forward components with the playful spirit of Hideo Kojima.

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[Luca Hamers](https://www.instagram.com/lucahamers/) is always looking forward. Before fashion, the Dutch designer worked in sales and marketing, though he was always fascinated with visions of the future. “My biggest inspiration is my relationship with my grandfather who was a futurist for the city of Amsterdam, contracted to draft visions and theories of what the city might look like hundreds of years in the future and how we might prepare for that. Because of this at a very young age I was introduced to many dystopian science fiction theories… This futurist way of looking at clothes is something that I wanted to encapsulate within my own work. I owe my grandfather a lot and loved him deeply.”

Hamers decided to enroll in Central Saint Martins, graduating in 2021. While most students at CSM are encouraged to explore the outer reaches of their creativity, occasionally to the point of frivolity, Hamers took a different approach. In his placement year, he worked for [Aitor Throup](https://www.instagram.com/archivepdf/p/CwAuHn1OjsR/), a formative period in the young designer’s career. 

“When I was at Central Saint Martins I developed this method of working where I would cut clothes and design them the same way that the sculptor might make a sculpture. We reserve a lot of judgment for clothes and kind of judge them on real world things; on functionality, image and a lot of other factors,  whereas sculpture simply evokes emotion. When you see a sculpture there is no use for it- there's just a visceral reaction of “I connect to this” or “I do not”. My methodology for this is to create creatures in my sketchbook and allow the anatomy of these shadowy creatures to become the details and shapes of the garments.”

*Lucas Hamers New Items, Photographed by [Paul Bellon](https://www.instagram.com/Paul.bellon/), Styled by [Mo A.](https://www.instagram.com/irl_mo/)*

In his placement year, Hamers worked for Aitor Throup, a designer with a shared appreciation of futurism. Hamer’s thesis collection was based on dark creatures that he encountered throughout his creative process. Their exaggerated forms, with oblong headpieces and padded shapes layered over one another, demonstrated a firm grasp of both conceptual and technical ability. 

Each piece from the studio engenders a rigorous process of testing and reworking until the prototype is almost perfect. This obsessive nature, while sometimes tedious, has earned Hamers a dedicated following from fans who appreciate his use of cutting-edge fabrics and techniques.The “Recluse Jacket,” released in collaboration with Sabukaru, is made with a waterproof mil-spec fabric and features a magnetic zip closure with external pockets. 

Don’t be surprised if some day Hamers is the costume designer of a great sci-fi epic. 

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Designer Susumu Miura takes independence very seriously. [AVALONE](https://www.instagram.com/avalonetokyo/) only sells their clothes online and in their Tokyo storefront, fully embracing the direct-to-consumer model. The inside of the store is split in half: one side functions as a retail and event space, where the brand occasionally hosts hardcore parties; the other side is the brand’s atelier, where everything is made  by an older Japanese artisan with over 50 years of experience. It’s quite intimate. 

Since the brand’s inception in 2013, Miura has focused on a core of well-made, functional clothing formed from the concept of “Futuristic Street Sportswear.” AVALONE furthers this approach with the use of new technology throughout the production process. “I think of AVALONE's 3D model as an analog 3D model. The 3d patterning of the framework, the mechanical arms, the cyborg feel of Japanese sci-fi anime from the late 80s. And I think it is somewhat challenging,” said Miura. 

Almost everything is done in black and monochromatic tones, lending the garments to everyday use along with their premium fabrics. “First of all, I take care of my own sensibility. I think it is important that the smell of my backbone is naturally expressed in the clothes; my backbone is the subculture that I have been exposed to since I was a boy,” explained Miura. There are traces of these hardcore and punk influences in the clothes, evident in each seam and stitched through the brand’s DIY ethos. 

The Sugar Punch x Sabukaru x Gantz Tee Shirt

The Sugar Punch Ghost in the Shell Long Sleeve

“There may have been a time of prejudice, but now people around the world are beginning to realize the artistry and excellence of anime and manga.” Referencing the satirical cartoon magazine “THE JAPAN PUNCH” by British artist Charles Wagman in 1862, [THE SUGAR PUNCH](https://www.instagram.com/the_sugar_punch/) elevates the art from their favorite anime and manga with a focus on high quality construction. “We first and foremost respect the cartoonists who created the original works, and that is why we felt that the products we made should be as good as their works.”

THE SUGAR PUNCH [recently released a collection for “GANTZ,”](https://sugar-punch.com/collections/gantz) A cult manga centered on the never-ending struggle to fight alien forces for humanity's survival. The brand also has created garments for the beloved “Ghost in the Shell” as well as the manga “Usogui.” 

“First, we examine the materials and select the best quality. Then we modify the patterns, find the right balance, and discuss with our craftsmen the mood we want to express and which technique to use for printing. We believe that through these processes, everyone's passion brings the clothes to life… everything is done by hand, including the dyeing and distressing of our products, allowing us to express the creativity and imagination of anime and manga goods, even though we are a fashion brand.”

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Born amidst the cultural euphoria of Berlin in the 90s, [Bagjack](https://www.instagram.com/bagjack/) makes high-quality handmade bags and accessories, ranging from backpacks to their staple messenger bags. When bike couriers from New York arrived in Germany with messenger bags, they brought something completely new to the country. Founder Peter Brunsberg was inspired by the new form, punctuated by a crossbody strap and easy accessibility. 

The brand’s first production facility opened in 1997, and after years of experimentation with various materials the bags have evolved to include intricate detailing with hardware. Along the way, Bagjack has collaborated with some of the most innovative tech-brands: they with Acronym to create their ‘3RD ARM’ bags, notably the 3A-6TS, one of the brand’s most intricate messenger bags; they’ve also collaborated with Stone Island Shadow Project on a bag that morphs between a messenger bag, backpack, and suitcase. 

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Bianco is convinced that [Jian Ye](https://www.instagram.com/jianye.official/) will be the next generation’s Undercover; he may not be far off. From the beginning, the brand has incorporated an eclectic array of references: an early season used the Triads from Grand Theft Auto as inspiration, another built a “pig special forces,” with models wearing pig masks and special patches with pig snouts. Jian Ye’s most recent collection looked to Shaolin kung fu for inspiration, the lookbook featuring models in fighting stance with looser, more technical fabrics offering a sense of mobility. 

Despite wildly disconnected references from season to season, Jian Ye is steadily building a cohesive creative universe. Behind the louder imagery of some collections, the clothes are clearly well-made and thoughtful. This season’s jackets use high-quality cotton fabrics with intricate pattern making and paneling, perforated with grommets and cinched by elastic ties. Noob, the designer of Jian Ye, understands the balance between the visual and tactile elements of fashion in an acute way, developing a unique aesthetic that proposes intelligent, wearable clothing. 

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“Grown, not made,” reads the bio of the [ALIVEFORM Instagram page](https://www.instagram.com/aliveform.bio/). Ping, the designer behind the footwear brand, focuses on the intersection between nature and technology to push our relationship with fashion into the future. Inspired by organic forms and the evolution of natural lifeforms, Ping blends these references with the architectural process of 3-D modeling. “My production process is similar to that of typical footwear creation from ideation to sketches and building 3D models… Followed by the development stage where I would print and test out samples, in my case what is unique is that the 3D file would completely determine the end result. There is a very direct translation from 3D model to end product; there are no molds, no patterns or fabrics involved in the process.”

The fashion industry is usually slow to embrace new technology, and the use of 3D modeling is still making its way into the production process. As the industry wrestles with the ecological implications of its practices, from unworn clothes piled into mountainous heaps of trash, to excess usage of water in making textiles, 3D modeling offers a new solution. “I do hope that we can take advantage of the technology in providing solutions for the potential problems that currently exist in fashion or in design, whether it be allowing us brands to take a more eco-conscious approach in production, to providing better wearing experience for customers.”

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[Agnes Kruel](https://www.instagram.com/agneskruel/) isn’t the first American expat to move to Tokyo and find renewed inspiration. Yet he’s managed to offer a new flavor of Americana, blending his roots in Atlanta with the vibrancy of Japanese youth and Otaku culture.

“I don’t really take so much inspiration from fashion as much as I more so look to develop a stranger interpretation of a heritage brand. And typically a heritage brand, also, is a distillation of the cultures and values that inform it.” Since World War II, Japanese and American fashion have exchanged interpretations of the original Ivy League and prep aesthetic that Japan adopted from America. “I find Americana has always been a bit myopic in what it defines as Americana. I believe ‘Americana’ within visual arts should embrace its history and roots from an angle of historical materialism rather than merely via military garments and blue jeans. The history is much more colorful and robust and deserves much more.” 

Agnes Kruel 'Diners in Domrémy', Photographed by [Francisco Narciso](https://www.instagram.com/franarciso/?img_index=1), Assistant Art Director [Nascarstarr](https://www.instagram.com/nascarstarr/?img_index=1)

Agnes straddles both past and present; he’s well equipped with myriad historical references to literature, art movements, and movies, generating an intellectualism that evades much of contemporary fashion.  His clothes offer vague allusions to these ideas, yet they embrace a disruptive pop-art sensibility.  “I am far more interested in literature than I can say that I am into fashion. Of course, fashion is pertinent to the project but the modus operandi is to integrate the various literary references into visual language in a non hamfisted way.”

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Tokyo-based magazine Sabukaru invited us to their Paris Showroom to view the work of several designers moving fashion forward on their own terms.

PFW Sabukaru Showroom: The Next Generation

When most people think of avant garde fashion, they think of fashion for a singular purpose or occasion; [Jordan Arthur Smith’s namesake label](https://jordanarthursmith.com/) challenges this assumption by creating garments that exist as multiple garments simultaneously, with no finality. Much like the signature curves in his designs, Smith has followed a non-traditional path on the way to founding his eponymous label. 

While most designers begin their career under a well established designer, or work at a major fashion house, Smith took a leap of faith and started his own label, despite the barriers he faced due to isolation from a major fashion market. Since 2020, Smith has worked tirelessly on collection after collection out of his apartment in the Midwest, hand-crafting garments that are closer to works of art. Smith and his label’s offerings are a product of his non-traditional background, and experimental approach to design. Growing up in a small town on the coast of California, Smith considered becoming a fashion designer in high school. After graduating, he went to a local community college and lived at home. During this period, he worked as a sailmaker, learning technical skills that later helped him as a designer. He then attended Kent State University’s fashion design program, up until the Covid-19 pandemic began and hindered in-person learning. Seeing the ensuing shutdowns as an opportunity, Jordan and his wife decided to start the label with some savings out of their apartment.


Jordan’s work in Kent State University  

Smith's formative adolescence in coastal California engendered a fascination with the natural world. From water motifs to the use of natural dyeing techniques, his designs reflect this fascination. Smith’s design process is quite self referential, resulting in works that are unlike anything else from his contemporaries. Smith and his in-house team make every piece by hand, outsourcing only a few pieces and components. Jordans unconventional work reflects his keen attention to detail and non-traditional background, and these qualities help him stand apart from his contemporaries. Smith took the time to be interviewed by ARCHIVE.pdf. In the interview we discussed Smith’s background, his eponymous label’s origins, his inspirations, and how his ideas come to life.

Jordan Arthur Smith, Prelude Editorial December 2022 


**Tell me about yourself and your journey as a designer.**

I got really into fashion in middle school and high school. I focused on researching designers, diving into the worlds they created and the history of the brands, and buying a few pieces that I really liked. After highschool I really wanted to go to fashion school but felt like it would make more sense financially to attend a local community college first. I studied fashion and photography, and graduated with a degree in both, and this college experience allowed me to explore new mediums of art such as ceramics, and quickly pick up industry experience in fabrics and construction. I've kind of always had the same vision and aesthetic that I've wanted to execute for the brand. I went into sailmaking and that taught me a lot of the technical side of things. It started with nonclothes and a lot of sewing and just technical skills. Things such as learning how to pattern make and learning how to sew. From there I went to Kent State for a little bit, and then I started my brand during the pandemic. We kind of started out of our apartment out of nothing. We didn't have anything, and …I just had this itch and this desire of, ‘this needs to happen.’ I felt that I had a unique enough voice in the space and enough passion to make things happen. I had no idea at the time if anything was going to work out. I had $3,000 left in our bank account because I worked a little bit over the summer and I just said ‘I'm just not going to school. I have to have this stuff ready and I'll have a collection out, and I'll have no money, but I can just find a job somewhere else or go back to school if need be.’ 

I just started it with nothing. Now we're here, and over time, we've just been knocking at the door– asking for us to be let into the industry, or give us recognition. I think I've also been fighting for that [industry recognition] because of where we're based. The pandemic was a little tricky because everything was online. But that was fine for me because it gave me a little bit of an advantage, because the location didn't really matter [during Covid]. Everyone was on an even playing field. And now, because of the location I'm in, the work has to speak for itself. So it's been a bit isolating, starting the brand. But I think that's been a good thing because in isolation, I've been able to focus on what we stand for and just the designs. And that's what is going to cause my brand to survive, or die.


**Tell me more about your technical background. **

I think that it's done a lot for my designs because I'm able to start things in a very different manner than most designers do. Especially with our sculptural works, starting with something that is not made for the human form, which is similar to what I was doing with sail making, and then translating that onto the body. As far as a fashion background goes, I do think that I got enough of a glimpse of that from constant self-exploration, also through fashion university and the pattern-making background, specifically in relation to clothes. It's not necessarily a nautical approach, but a lot of my designs are connected with water in one way or another. 

As far as the visuals there's always some water element. I'm sure my team kind of hates me for it, where every collection I'm like, "You have to do something with water." Whether it's shooting it in the water, or incorporating some water into it. It's always a starting point for me, and it's also very relaxing to me. I feel really at peace by the water and most of the realizations that I've had in my best moments have come near the water, whether it be an ocean or a lake. I think that that's a lot of the DNA and background in our garments.

Jordan Arthur Smith, Plexus Knit Collection 

**Tell me more about your affinity for water.**

It is a much deeper question. I think water has always been the most comforting thing for me. A lot of the designs that I work with are [about] adding comfort and protection to people. That comes from a more personal aspect of my life. Water has always been comforting and protective. The garments represent that in my life as well, in a more physical form, whether it's design elements that are very literal or something we call the ‘estuary motif.’This was inspired by the estuaries of my childhood and how those looked. We have a lot of other organic seam work and elements in our mind that remind me of water. If you look at our garments, they're constructed in a very non-traditional way. There are not really any straight seams anywhere. If there's a straight seam or a dart, I'll turn it into a curved seam, which makes things very complex and difficult to construct. When it comes to curved seams, to get those things to lay flat, the pattern work has to be perfect, and you have to rework things several times.

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[The] things that inspire my work are mistakes and the process. As a designer, I'm not very literally inspired by many things. I don't reference much history or literal references; it works from a point of experimentation and process. And so, one of the elements that informed the curved seam work, and the ‘post-human’ work I've been working on, is a mistake made during grading for our first collection. When you grade all the sizes, it's difficult with the curved panels. One of our panels had a bubble in it, and I thought, ‘this is terrible because I have orders due.’ It was a very stressful moment in my life. Early on, I was caught up on this. From there it shifted into thinking this mistake could actually be something cool, because there was some element I liked about it– if I incorporate this in a way that looks intentional and pushes the design forward, that informs the post-human sculptural work we do, where I'm actively making sculptures to create the shape of the garment I want and then translating that back to the human form. This goes back to the water elements and the protection elements of something that is protecting the body and shielding it.

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**Who is the post-human and what does the post-human look like to you?**

I think that informs a lot of the design. Maybe I'm a little focused on utopia, as opposed to the world going into something not so great. It's weird– I think it's a bit of escapism in my design. A lot right now is focused on irony and dystopia as opposed to looking forward to the future. Our brand is focused on a future that doesn't exist right now and what that could look like; whether it be the sustainable elements of our garments or just garments that have multiple ways to wear them, that's one of our big focuses. I want to make clothes for the future where someone might wear something one way now. But with time, trends shift, and [the wearer’s] ability to experiment grows. They can wear something a little more crazy and feel more comfortable. I like to think about design as a challenge: that's where we start most of our designs. One of the keys of our brand is that our garments can be worn in multiple different ways. With that challenge, it informs the shapes of the garments and the components that go into them, whether it be details, pockets, fabric type, or construction in general; it's condensing a wardrobe down to something where, if I was going to take a flight, I could pack one shirt and a pair of pants and be fine for a week, see the same people, and wear those things in different ways without them noticing. The clothes can be different colors and silhouettes daily. This turtleneck is one piece that can be worn in 20 to 30 different ways.

It's been cool to see our customers send me pictures of new ways to wear the turtleneck. Like, I never thought it could be worn that way. It allows people to experience the clothes, experiment, and create newness in their lives. These moments take me back to when I started in fashion, that feeling of newness and creation. I'm experimenting with the garments for the design, but I also want to pass that on to our customers, allowing them to experiment with the outfits, wearing a turtleneck in 15 different ways. For most people, a fashion journey starts with basic things that feel uncomfortable. A simple turtleneck could be easy for someone to pull off because it looks like a normal turtleneck,but can be worn as a dress, a halfway dress, or on one arm as a tank top with one longer sleeve. It allows people to choose how daring they want to be each day and ease into that.

**How do you interpret time? Both in relation to self and in relation to your label's clothes?**

It's funny that you bring that up, because that's also one of my main key pillars of the brand, focusing on time and the passage of time. I use that in many different ways: the way I look at our collection is a continuation of building a world, not necessarily switching to something completely different. Each garment [that] I've made experiments with a basic Western wardrobe of menswear, making those pieces unique, and building off of that while referencing old work. There's the passage of time going backwards, referencing mistakes I've made, or ideas we haven't fully brought to life; our post-human work is a good example of that. Even now, I haven't fully realized that idea. Focusing on materials is a huge thing [in the process]. That's one reason why I focus on the natural undyed color of things: it's a passage of time because when people wear it, it will get dirty and show the markings. Another focus is on hardware. Many of our garments have hand-painted elements for the hardware, so as people wear them, the paint will come off, revealing the brass underneath.

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I try to design things so far in the future that they almost become timeless. I reference objects that I view that way, whether it be the pyramids or nature in general, because nature is very timeless. A frog has been around for a long time and isn't going anywhere. It isn't going to necessarily morph into something and isn't going to pass with trends. Another thing I focus on, as far as the visuals and our brand in general, is things that aren't set in a specific period. I reference enough from the past and push enough to the future, with a tiny sprinkle of the present, to create something timeless. 

I don't want our clothes to be seen in the present, future, or past. I'm particular about the visuals. I avoid buildings, cars, street signs, or anything that would date a photo, like that would show if it was from 2019, 2020, or now, based on the technology or other details. I focus on things that could be put in a time capsule and sent back to ancient times or the future, and people could wear them that way as well. I don't want to date things with a timestamp. Focusing on materials that age with time is important. For our first collection, I worked with only natural dyes—indigo, an algae dye paste with acorns, tea, iron, and walnut hulls.And so, those things fade over time. As the wearer uses them, they'll naturally fade, similar to jeans and raw denim. I am drawn to garments and objects in my life that will intentionally age and become personal. Incorporating nature or natural elements into the clothes so they develop a personal relationship between the wearer and nature.


**How has the design process been different for the last collection?**

With the last collection, we had different outcomes in mind because we focused on a specific dye process. It came from the more practical standpoint of which designs will look best with that dye process, and we let that process sing. With the Erode collection, we deconstructed the pieces into several panels. Some of the jackets had over 50 pattern pieces or more to make one jacket. With that, the seam work became a distraction to the dyeing process and it was too busy for me. So we stripped things down and made them more minimal to incorporate the dye process and printing process we used, [and] let the garments and the process stand out. 

We printed clothes on top of clothes. One example is the sweaters with an estuary motif, or as we call it, the ‘plexus,’ similar to a poncho; The sheer element was printed on the base layers, which informed the design. This collection's design comes from our focus on the print process and incorporating pieces that worked with that.I always have to outdo myself each time, making something crazier than last time. Whether it's a piece that can transform into more ways to wear it or a statement piece, we always aim to create something extraordinary for the next collection.

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Jordan’s unconventional works flow and stand apart from his contemporaries.

Sailing, Nature, and Aging: A Conversation with Jordan Arthur Smith

Nash Hill

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Kyle Abeysinghe

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Provoke

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**Warning: Some images featured in this article are considered NSFW.**

Fashion photographer Corinne Day is the photographer who reflected the attitudes of the anti-fashion movement most distinctly, with a raw, unpolished style that depicted her models without embellishment. Informed by her own negative experiences as a model, Day sought to strip away the veneer of glamor that characterized fashion photography before her and inject some reality into a world of dishonest fantasy. The legacy of the legendary photographer can be explored through her style, collaborators, and controversy.


Having dropped out of school at the age of 16, Day bounced between jobs until she was prompted to pursue modeling in a chance conversation with a photographer on an airline flight. She continued as a catalog model for a number of years before meeting fellow model Mark Szaszy on a train in Japan in 1985. In the subsequent years Szaszy taught Day how to use a camera, and the couple moved together to Milan in 1987. During this period, Day began to develop her signature candid style, taking casual photographs of her model friends while looking for magazine work.

Day’s images leave both photography and fashion with a legacy which cannot be overlooked. 

ABOUT US

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Riviere Fougy

Founder, Technology Lead, Scanner, Photographer

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Khan Delin

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Felix Ramirez

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Taylor Sprinkle

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Chris Ziebert

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Isabelle

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ArtV

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Noel Rainey

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Finn Chen

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Elia Orsini

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Michael Sachen

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Joseph Stalnaker

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George Reyes

Design Lead, Interviewer, Scan Provider

Austin Pinilla

Motion Graphics Designer