The Shrinking vocabulary of western fashion
Consolidation at all levels is the name of the game in Late Western Imperium
July 25, 2025
By Ali Khan | Co-Founder
Photo (above): Ali Khan
I love to shop, and I love to window shop. When you spend enough time exploring fashion across a wide range of price points, you start to notice how trends build their popularity through a pyramid—trickling down from the high-end to the masses. Of course, this isn’t breaking news within the industry. Every designer and executive knows it, and most are content to operate within their brand’s segment on that pyramid. Sure, there are occasional copying allegations and lawsuits, but by and large, copying is tolerated. It’s seen as a flattering nod to a brand’s desirability, as well as a necessary concession to the breakneck speed at which fashion moves from season to season.
Over the past two decades, the forces of globalization and social media have shaken the traditional fashion pyramid, sending trends flowing in all directions—not just downward—more dynamically than ever before. While this has disrupted various business models on a micro level, the macro-level behavior of these trends still follows the predictable patterns of a trend cycle, albeit at an accelerated pace.
Recently, however, something different has emerged—a shift that cannot be explained solely by the copying of trends or the influence of social media. The creative vocabulary of ideas presented by the Western fashion industry, season after season, is shrinking, regardless of market segment. The timeline of a trend has not only flattened; it has been compressed into a narrow set of ideas that are recycled simultaneously across all price points.
This excessive recycling of the same ideas across all markets can no longer be denied. NASA logos appear on everything from Balenciaga to H&M; Mickey Mouse is plastered on Gucci and Daiso products. When it comes to music, the same tired references dominate: Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, Nirvana. Movie references can’t seem to move past Scarface, Rocky, The Godfather, or a random David Lynch film. Artistic inspiration rarely ventures beyond Basquiat or Andy Warhol. In just the last two years alone, I’ve encountered at least nine different brand collaborations with the NFL team, the Raiders—ironic, given the team’s lack of relevance in the league for years. Even in the growing niche of LGBTQ-focused brands, the references are painfully limited: Tom of Finland and Robert Mapplethorpe seem to be the only names deemed worthy of homage.
But it’s not just about collaborations; the entire design vocabulary is rapidly shrinking. From bomber jackets, hoodies, and tracksuits to pleated skirts, cowboy boots, and Air Jordan replicas, the same silhouettes and styles dominate every brand’s offering. Every label must now have its version of a Dior tote, a Chanel quilted bag, a Prada Cleo, a Birkin competitor, and logo-emblazoned athleisure bralettes or yoga pants—regardless of the brand’s heritage, ethos, or core customer values.
By Ali Khan | Co-Founder
Photo (above): Ali Khan
I love to shop, and I love to window shop. When you spend enough time exploring fashion across a wide range of price points, you start to notice how trends build their popularity through a pyramid—trickling down from the high-end to the masses. Of course, this isn’t breaking news within the industry. Every designer and executive knows it, and most are content to operate within their brand’s segment on that pyramid. Sure, there are occasional copying allegations and lawsuits, but by and large, copying is tolerated. It’s seen as a flattering nod to a brand’s desirability, as well as a necessary concession to the breakneck speed at which fashion moves from season to season.
Over the past two decades, the forces of globalization and social media have shaken the traditional fashion pyramid, sending trends flowing in all directions—not just downward—more dynamically than ever before. While this has disrupted various business models on a micro level, the macro-level behavior of these trends still follows the predictable patterns of a trend cycle, albeit at an accelerated pace.
Recently, however, something different has emerged—a shift that cannot be explained solely by the copying of trends or the influence of social media. The creative vocabulary of ideas presented by the Western fashion industry, season after season, is shrinking, regardless of market segment. The timeline of a trend has not only flattened; it has been compressed into a narrow set of ideas that are recycled simultaneously across all price points.
This excessive recycling of the same ideas across all markets can no longer be denied. NASA logos appear on everything from Balenciaga to H&M; Mickey Mouse is plastered on Gucci and Daiso products. When it comes to music, the same tired references dominate: Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, Nirvana. Movie references can’t seem to move past Scarface, Rocky, The Godfather, or a random David Lynch film. Artistic inspiration rarely ventures beyond Basquiat or Andy Warhol. In just the last two years alone, I’ve encountered at least nine different brand collaborations with the NFL team, the Raiders—ironic, given the team’s lack of relevance in the league for years. Even in the growing niche of LGBTQ-focused brands, the references are painfully limited: Tom of Finland and Robert Mapplethorpe seem to be the only names deemed worthy of homage.
But it’s not just about collaborations; the entire design vocabulary is rapidly shrinking. From bomber jackets, hoodies, and tracksuits to pleated skirts, cowboy boots, and Air Jordan replicas, the same silhouettes and styles dominate every brand’s offering. Every label must now have its version of a Dior tote, a Chanel quilted bag, a Prada Cleo, a Birkin competitor, and logo-emblazoned athleisure bralettes or yoga pants—regardless of the brand’s heritage, ethos, or core customer values.
Street Talk, Paris. Phot: Ali Khan
“Every label must now have its version of a Dior tote, a Chanel quilted bag, a Prada Cleo, a Birkin competitor, and logo-emblazoned athleisure bralettes or yoga pants—regardless of the brand’s heritage, ethos, or core customer values.”
COLLABORATION AND APPROPRIATION
Devoid of meaningful design, many brands have become little more than vehicles for exporting Western neoliberalism worldwide, serving as cogs in the ongoing machinery of "soft power" while facilitating the global circulation of the dollar. It’s no surprise, then, that we see an endless stream of T-shirts emblazoned with the names of Western cities—a superficial nod to culture that underscores this hollow commercialism.
I’ve been saying it for a long time: Collaboration is the new appropriation—neo-appropriation, if you will. The era of "value-added" modern collaborations, which began with Karl Lagerfeld’s partnership with H&M in 2004 and peaked with Supreme and Louis Vuitton’s 2018 collection, is clearly over, as evidenced by declining retail sales.
For decades, the Western design strategy has relied on finding "inspiration" in foreign cultures, reinterpreting them through a Western lens, and deeming the result superior (this is why branding is so central to their approach). From the loot of colonialism to the demands of deregulation and market access in neo-colonialism, this strategy has always depended on the active participation of each country’s elite and influential class. The approach can be blatantly crude when applied to the developing world, while being far more nuanced and subtle when dealing with similarly aligned developed nations.
In this context, is Sacai not selling the heritage of Japanese design to Nike through its much-hyped collaborations for a short-term monetary boost? After all, we see that design language fully integrated into Nike’s products even without further collaboration. Of course, Sacai is not alone in this—many influential brands are complicit in this sell-out, with Japanese brands leading the charge.
The endless list of such collaborations, where powerful conglomerate-controlled brands buy their way into new design ideas with the help of influential globalist creatives from various countries, has left small designers and artisans without a unique design language to call their own or the means to compete against mega-brands. (For example, Tabi shoes are now widely associated with Maison Margiela rather than their Japanese origins.)
GATEKEEPING AND THE CONSOLIDATION OF POWER
Furthermore, this strategy reinforces Western gatekeeping, ensuring that every young brand must pass through their systems. It guarantees that Paris remains the center of high fashion and the U.S. remains the center of sportswear. Why do Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar need specific editions for every third country in the world? They are neither authorities on those cultures nor invested in transferring technology or know-how to those regions. Instead, their globally recognized brand names are used to gatekeep young regional talent, shrinking their design vocabulary to fit the lens of Western aesthetics.
When collaboration isn’t an option, there’s always litigation. As the design vocabulary shrinks, industry giants are filing a flurry of lawsuits and trademarks. This is merely another way to consolidate power (while they still have the clout) and bring as many ideas as possible under their umbrella of heritage. The outcome of these lawsuits is secondary (though certainly a bonus); the real goal is to lay claim to as much heritage as possible before over-financialized capitalist structures crumble. Chanel can criticize YSL for copying their tweed jackets one day and partner with them the next to protect French luxury heritage.
Since 2020, Shein has been the subject of over 100 lawsuits filed against it in U.S. federal courts, while European fast fashion brands operate with relative impunity. Nike, meanwhile, is embroiled in multiple lawsuits across the spectrum to protect its iconic designs like the Air Jordan and Air Force 1. Chanel is aggressively safeguarding its luxury business model by exerting control over every stage of the product lifecycle—even extending into resale markets. Clearly, many of these legal actions are driven more by geopolitical motivations than purely business concerns. For instance, JW Anderson, an LVMH-owned brand, is frequently accused of copying small designers season after season, yet no legal action is taken, and no "cancel" movement emerges against the designer.
In an ongoing case concerning the merger between Capri Holdings and Tapestry, the defense argues that the merger doesn’t threaten monopoly because the brands under the group don’t compete against each other. While this may be true to some extent, what’s not mentioned is that the merger will create a unified backend of logistics and production, which will undoubtedly be exploited for the conglomerate’s advantage. The result? The design vocabulary shrinks even further.
Devoid of meaningful design, many brands have become little more than vehicles for exporting Western neoliberalism worldwide, serving as cogs in the ongoing machinery of "soft power" while facilitating the global circulation of the dollar. It’s no surprise, then, that we see an endless stream of T-shirts emblazoned with the names of Western cities—a superficial nod to culture that underscores this hollow commercialism.
I’ve been saying it for a long time: Collaboration is the new appropriation—neo-appropriation, if you will. The era of "value-added" modern collaborations, which began with Karl Lagerfeld’s partnership with H&M in 2004 and peaked with Supreme and Louis Vuitton’s 2018 collection, is clearly over, as evidenced by declining retail sales.
For decades, the Western design strategy has relied on finding "inspiration" in foreign cultures, reinterpreting them through a Western lens, and deeming the result superior (this is why branding is so central to their approach). From the loot of colonialism to the demands of deregulation and market access in neo-colonialism, this strategy has always depended on the active participation of each country’s elite and influential class. The approach can be blatantly crude when applied to the developing world, while being far more nuanced and subtle when dealing with similarly aligned developed nations.
In this context, is Sacai not selling the heritage of Japanese design to Nike through its much-hyped collaborations for a short-term monetary boost? After all, we see that design language fully integrated into Nike’s products even without further collaboration. Of course, Sacai is not alone in this—many influential brands are complicit in this sell-out, with Japanese brands leading the charge.
The endless list of such collaborations, where powerful conglomerate-controlled brands buy their way into new design ideas with the help of influential globalist creatives from various countries, has left small designers and artisans without a unique design language to call their own or the means to compete against mega-brands. (For example, Tabi shoes are now widely associated with Maison Margiela rather than their Japanese origins.)
Street Talk, Paris. Photo: Ali Khan
GATEKEEPING AND THE CONSOLIDATION OF POWERFurthermore, this strategy reinforces Western gatekeeping, ensuring that every young brand must pass through their systems. It guarantees that Paris remains the center of high fashion and the U.S. remains the center of sportswear. Why do Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar need specific editions for every third country in the world? They are neither authorities on those cultures nor invested in transferring technology or know-how to those regions. Instead, their globally recognized brand names are used to gatekeep young regional talent, shrinking their design vocabulary to fit the lens of Western aesthetics.
When collaboration isn’t an option, there’s always litigation. As the design vocabulary shrinks, industry giants are filing a flurry of lawsuits and trademarks. This is merely another way to consolidate power (while they still have the clout) and bring as many ideas as possible under their umbrella of heritage. The outcome of these lawsuits is secondary (though certainly a bonus); the real goal is to lay claim to as much heritage as possible before over-financialized capitalist structures crumble. Chanel can criticize YSL for copying their tweed jackets one day and partner with them the next to protect French luxury heritage.
Since 2020, Shein has been the subject of over 100 lawsuits filed against it in U.S. federal courts, while European fast fashion brands operate with relative impunity. Nike, meanwhile, is embroiled in multiple lawsuits across the spectrum to protect its iconic designs like the Air Jordan and Air Force 1. Chanel is aggressively safeguarding its luxury business model by exerting control over every stage of the product lifecycle—even extending into resale markets. Clearly, many of these legal actions are driven more by geopolitical motivations than purely business concerns. For instance, JW Anderson, an LVMH-owned brand, is frequently accused of copying small designers season after season, yet no legal action is taken, and no "cancel" movement emerges against the designer.
In an ongoing case concerning the merger between Capri Holdings and Tapestry, the defense argues that the merger doesn’t threaten monopoly because the brands under the group don’t compete against each other. While this may be true to some extent, what’s not mentioned is that the merger will create a unified backend of logistics and production, which will undoubtedly be exploited for the conglomerate’s advantage. The result? The design vocabulary shrinks even further.
“The same forces that reduced designers to figureheads have not only emboldened a new wave of arbiters - Instagram influencers, TikTok queens, and Substack girlies - but also forged a sinister nexus of tech and fashion, all under the false gospel of "democratizing" fashion.”
FINANCIALIZING AND ALGORITHMIZING
But to think we didn’t see this coming is to remain in denial about the precarious position the industry now finds itself in. As the West transitioned from an industrial economy to a financialized one, fashion and luxury were not immune to these changes. The allure of making money through branding alone was so enticing that senior executives forgot their real business wasn’t rooted in Wall Street but in materiality and craftsmanship. No matter how many videos Dior (or any other luxury brand) releases to champion its artisans and ateliers, these are merely image-building exercises. The real priority isn’t product development but stocks, investors, and generating more money through financialization. Recent scandals about Dior sweatshops are just one example of how far things have degraded. The COVID-19 pandemic, with its two years of lockdowns and massive loss of life, only exacerbated the situation, pushing these brands further into the arms of financial institutions and untrained migrant workers, who were left unprepared through no fault of their own.
This financialized model demanded continuous growth, and any stagnation in sales could be offset by opening countless new stores worldwide. For a time, China—and to some extent, other emerging economies—provided that opportunity. The flaws and short-sightedness of this model are vividly captured in Lynn Parramore’s case study of Intel, a once-dominant tech giant that suffered a similar fate in a completely different industry. Just as Intel’s focus on financial engineering over innovation led to its decline, fashion’s obsession with branding and growth has come at the expense of creativity and quality.
It’s not hard to see how product development and innovation become hindrances when all you need to do is show growth and increase product quantities accordingly. After all, there’s nothing a little stock buyback at the end of the fiscal year can’t fix. This model might have continued for much longer if not for the trade war initiated by Trump in 2017 and further escalated by Biden, embroiling the EU and North America in an era of uncertainty regarding their new cash cow: China. Geopolitical tensions slowing growth, combined with rising interest rates, have exposed the deep-seated flaws of financialized companies—flaws that were conveniently hidden for years.
The revolving door of creative directors at luxury houses speaks to the same issues. Designers have been rendered irrelevant; what matters now is celebrity power. The hiring of Pharrell Williams at Louis Vuitton exemplifies this mindset, where marketability trumps design expertise, resulting in—yes—a shrinking design vocabulary. Consumers, too, play a role in this cycle, as their demand for affordable, celebrity-endorsed collections fuels the prioritization of branding over craftsmanship.
But the problem runs deeper still. The same forces that reduced designers to figureheads have not only emboldened a new wave of arbiters - Instagram influencers, TikTok queens, and Substack girlies- but also forged a sinister nexus of tech and fashion, all under the false gospel of "democratizing" fashion. This is a misplaced argument. Fashion, whether we like it or not, is inherently hierarchical and snobbish; in its natural state, it always will be. Flattening the disseminating voice so broadly—across a group that, most of the time, has little to no industry experience, let alone technical know-how—serves only one purpose: shrinking the vocabulary to better suit the algorithm and maximize mass audience appeal.
While the executives at these luxury houses bear responsibility for such decisions, blaming them alone only tells half the story. These executives are part of a broader, corroded system that includes higher education, deregulated policies, and a complicit media owned by the same elites. Together, they’ve created an echo chamber eerily reminiscent of Soviet times. The recent contract negotiations between Hedi Slimane and LVMH (owners of Celine) laid bare this bias within the fashion establishment media. Rather than championing the cause of creatives—the very reason these magazines exist—the narrative quickly shifted to paint Hedi as “difficult.” This is a stark reminder of how creatives are marginalized in a system that prioritizes financial growth over design integrity, further narrowing the industry’s creative horizons. What happens when designers are reduced to placeholders and design decisions are dictated by those without a design background? The design vocabulary shrinks.
Street Talk, Seoul. Photo: Ali Khan
HIGHER EDUCATION: WHERE THE PROBLEM BEGINS
If brands are where the illness manifests, it’s higher education where it takes root. Higher education continues to face growing dissatisfaction among its consumers, resulting in dwindling student enrollment in recent years. The reasons for this are not far removed from the issues plaguing the fashion industry itself (though I will explore this in greater depth in a follow-up article). Art schools increasingly prioritize teaching future artists and designers about business and entrepreneurship, often at the expense of foundational skills in craft and technology. This shift limits students’ ability to realize complex ideas, ultimately shrinking their design vocabulary.
On the other hand, fashion business students are not adequately taught that product development and innovation must remain at the heart of a design house. An executive’s role should be to sell the ideas conceived by designers, not to dictate what designers should create. Yet, this process has been so thoroughly flipped that it’s safe to assume this argument will face opposition. In a scenario where an executive proposes raising X amount of dollars through investor funding versus a designer proposing a design concept, they believe the world will come to love, the executive will win every time. The corruption of the design process is irreversible.
The results are no different for those who choose to practice fashion without formal design education. Whereas once this path required years of apprenticeship under a practicing designer, it has now been largely replaced by social media influencers who, after gaining enough followers, cherry-pick pre-made designs from factory representatives and slap their own labels on them. The result, once again, is a shrinking vocabulary of design on offer.
BEYOND FASHION: A GLOBAL CREATIVE CRISIS
Fashion is not alone in this bleak phenomenon. Other creative industries are afflicted by the same plague. Take, for example, the film industry: sequels, prequels, origin stories, offshoots, and remakes—whatever you call them, they are all signs of a shrinking creative language that relies on safe, familiar choices to make money rather than taking creative risks. Even in failure, such risks push the industry forward, but today’s trend of playing it safe only drags it backward. Similarly, in music, there has been no significant grassroots movement this century that has risen to the top authentically and flourished globally. Instead, hyper-manufactured genres like K-Pop have filled the void, further homogenizing the global soundscape.
Even industries as seemingly unrelated as the café sector are not immune to this trend. As global chains like Starbucks and Costa Coffee expand, their menus have been universalized, offering little more than one or two token items representative of the local culture. McDonald’s perfected this strategy long before Starbucks gained worldwide traction, but as a consumer, it has become nearly impossible to escape. Independent cafés, forced to compete on the terms of these mega-brands, cannot match their financialized resources. The result? A shrinking vocabulary of menu options.
This trend not only stifles creativity but also erodes cultural diversity, as unique regional identities are replaced by standardized, globally palatable offerings.
’
But to think we didn’t see this coming is to remain in denial about the precarious position the industry now finds itself in. As the West transitioned from an industrial economy to a financialized one, fashion and luxury were not immune to these changes. The allure of making money through branding alone was so enticing that senior executives forgot their real business wasn’t rooted in Wall Street but in materiality and craftsmanship. No matter how many videos Dior (or any other luxury brand) releases to champion its artisans and ateliers, these are merely image-building exercises. The real priority isn’t product development but stocks, investors, and generating more money through financialization. Recent scandals about Dior sweatshops are just one example of how far things have degraded. The COVID-19 pandemic, with its two years of lockdowns and massive loss of life, only exacerbated the situation, pushing these brands further into the arms of financial institutions and untrained migrant workers, who were left unprepared through no fault of their own.
This financialized model demanded continuous growth, and any stagnation in sales could be offset by opening countless new stores worldwide. For a time, China—and to some extent, other emerging economies—provided that opportunity. The flaws and short-sightedness of this model are vividly captured in Lynn Parramore’s case study of Intel, a once-dominant tech giant that suffered a similar fate in a completely different industry. Just as Intel’s focus on financial engineering over innovation led to its decline, fashion’s obsession with branding and growth has come at the expense of creativity and quality.
It’s not hard to see how product development and innovation become hindrances when all you need to do is show growth and increase product quantities accordingly. After all, there’s nothing a little stock buyback at the end of the fiscal year can’t fix. This model might have continued for much longer if not for the trade war initiated by Trump in 2017 and further escalated by Biden, embroiling the EU and North America in an era of uncertainty regarding their new cash cow: China. Geopolitical tensions slowing growth, combined with rising interest rates, have exposed the deep-seated flaws of financialized companies—flaws that were conveniently hidden for years.
The revolving door of creative directors at luxury houses speaks to the same issues. Designers have been rendered irrelevant; what matters now is celebrity power. The hiring of Pharrell Williams at Louis Vuitton exemplifies this mindset, where marketability trumps design expertise, resulting in—yes—a shrinking design vocabulary. Consumers, too, play a role in this cycle, as their demand for affordable, celebrity-endorsed collections fuels the prioritization of branding over craftsmanship.
But the problem runs deeper still. The same forces that reduced designers to figureheads have not only emboldened a new wave of arbiters - Instagram influencers, TikTok queens, and Substack girlies- but also forged a sinister nexus of tech and fashion, all under the false gospel of "democratizing" fashion. This is a misplaced argument. Fashion, whether we like it or not, is inherently hierarchical and snobbish; in its natural state, it always will be. Flattening the disseminating voice so broadly—across a group that, most of the time, has little to no industry experience, let alone technical know-how—serves only one purpose: shrinking the vocabulary to better suit the algorithm and maximize mass audience appeal.
While the executives at these luxury houses bear responsibility for such decisions, blaming them alone only tells half the story. These executives are part of a broader, corroded system that includes higher education, deregulated policies, and a complicit media owned by the same elites. Together, they’ve created an echo chamber eerily reminiscent of Soviet times. The recent contract negotiations between Hedi Slimane and LVMH (owners of Celine) laid bare this bias within the fashion establishment media. Rather than championing the cause of creatives—the very reason these magazines exist—the narrative quickly shifted to paint Hedi as “difficult.” This is a stark reminder of how creatives are marginalized in a system that prioritizes financial growth over design integrity, further narrowing the industry’s creative horizons. What happens when designers are reduced to placeholders and design decisions are dictated by those without a design background? The design vocabulary shrinks.
HIGHER EDUCATION: WHERE THE PROBLEM BEGINS
If brands are where the illness manifests, it’s higher education where it takes root. Higher education continues to face growing dissatisfaction among its consumers, resulting in dwindling student enrollment in recent years. The reasons for this are not far removed from the issues plaguing the fashion industry itself (though I will explore this in greater depth in a follow-up article). Art schools increasingly prioritize teaching future artists and designers about business and entrepreneurship, often at the expense of foundational skills in craft and technology. This shift limits students’ ability to realize complex ideas, ultimately shrinking their design vocabulary.
On the other hand, fashion business students are not adequately taught that product development and innovation must remain at the heart of a design house. An executive’s role should be to sell the ideas conceived by designers, not to dictate what designers should create. Yet, this process has been so thoroughly flipped that it’s safe to assume this argument will face opposition. In a scenario where an executive proposes raising X amount of dollars through investor funding versus a designer proposing a design concept, they believe the world will come to love, the executive will win every time. The corruption of the design process is irreversible.
The results are no different for those who choose to practice fashion without formal design education. Whereas once this path required years of apprenticeship under a practicing designer, it has now been largely replaced by social media influencers who, after gaining enough followers, cherry-pick pre-made designs from factory representatives and slap their own labels on them. The result, once again, is a shrinking vocabulary of design on offer.
BEYOND FASHION: A GLOBAL CREATIVE CRISIS
Fashion is not alone in this bleak phenomenon. Other creative industries are afflicted by the same plague. Take, for example, the film industry: sequels, prequels, origin stories, offshoots, and remakes—whatever you call them, they are all signs of a shrinking creative language that relies on safe, familiar choices to make money rather than taking creative risks. Even in failure, such risks push the industry forward, but today’s trend of playing it safe only drags it backward. Similarly, in music, there has been no significant grassroots movement this century that has risen to the top authentically and flourished globally. Instead, hyper-manufactured genres like K-Pop have filled the void, further homogenizing the global soundscape.
Even industries as seemingly unrelated as the café sector are not immune to this trend. As global chains like Starbucks and Costa Coffee expand, their menus have been universalized, offering little more than one or two token items representative of the local culture. McDonald’s perfected this strategy long before Starbucks gained worldwide traction, but as a consumer, it has become nearly impossible to escape. Independent cafés, forced to compete on the terms of these mega-brands, cannot match their financialized resources. The result? A shrinking vocabulary of menu options.
This trend not only stifles creativity but also erodes cultural diversity, as unique regional identities are replaced by standardized, globally palatable offerings.
’
To conclude, I would point to the recently held Paris Olympics as a classic case of this consolidation. Celebrities played a shamelessly outsized role in the Opening and Closing Ceremonies, overshadowing the athletes themselves. In an era where everything is weaponized to serve the needs of the empire, the Olympics became an obvious platform to project Western values of liberalism onto the world.
Geopolitical tensions have brought hard power back to the forefront, and as the world splinters into factions vying for regional influence, the space for experimentation and innovation in the arts has all but vanished. The vocabulary of creativity has shrunk irreversibly for the near future. Without a seismic shake-up and the establishment of new power structures that allow the craft and design of all cultures to flourish free of gatekeeping, this decline will only continue.
After all, when a brand like Vivienne Westwood—once the epitome of punk rebellion—is reduced to producing logo-laden streetwear indistinguishable from other mainstream designer brands, you know it’s game over for Western fashion.
The Death of Streetwear
Was Greatly Exaggerated
Was Greatly Exaggerated
The ‘new’ streetwear is here and thriving; It just doesn’t include your dad’s hoodie anymore
April 26, 2024
By Ali Khan | Co-Founder
Photo (above): Courtesy of FANG NYC SS24 Campaign
There was much hoopla in the last few years about the death of streetwear and fashion’s return to its roots (some even copying the title of my op-ed, or effectively my entire opinion, only to completely miss the point — I won’t name names…) but to frame it as such was only to show that you do not understand what streetwear is, nor do you understand the unbreakable relationship that exists between fashion and streetwear. In that op-ed, I argued that streetwear cannot die, only its iteration changes, and we only have to wait for a short time before we can figure out what its next iteration will be.
It is important in appraising the environment at present, that we understand the context of the historical-present, to avoid examining the situation from our lens of ‘now’. A common mistake we see repeating when designers are hired to revamp an old brand. Such is the case for Helmut Lang, a brand where new designers have failed to grasp the historical-present of the original designer, and instead rely on the external imagery they’ve come to understand via the curation of the web or archives.
I think we are at a place where we can see the roots of what may transpire as the next streetwear movement. But before we get into that, let’s consider a very brief overview of what is meant when we use the word ‘streetwear’.
By Ali Khan | Co-Founder
Photo (above): Courtesy of FANG NYC SS24 Campaign
There was much hoopla in the last few years about the death of streetwear and fashion’s return to its roots (some even copying the title of my op-ed, or effectively my entire opinion, only to completely miss the point — I won’t name names…) but to frame it as such was only to show that you do not understand what streetwear is, nor do you understand the unbreakable relationship that exists between fashion and streetwear. In that op-ed, I argued that streetwear cannot die, only its iteration changes, and we only have to wait for a short time before we can figure out what its next iteration will be.
It is important in appraising the environment at present, that we understand the context of the historical-present, to avoid examining the situation from our lens of ‘now’. A common mistake we see repeating when designers are hired to revamp an old brand. Such is the case for Helmut Lang, a brand where new designers have failed to grasp the historical-present of the original designer, and instead rely on the external imagery they’ve come to understand via the curation of the web or archives.
I think we are at a place where we can see the roots of what may transpire as the next streetwear movement. But before we get into that, let’s consider a very brief overview of what is meant when we use the word ‘streetwear’.
Streetwear, 1789
The roots of modern streetwear can be traced back to the French Revolution of 1789, and the “Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen” which claimed liberty and equality as natural rights of human existence. The history of streetwear is thus deeply tied to civic clothing and continues to closely reflect the advancement of popular revolution.
The roots of modern streetwear can be traced back to the French Revolution of 1789, and the “Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen” which claimed liberty and equality as natural rights of human existence. The history of streetwear is thus deeply tied to civic clothing and continues to closely reflect the advancement of popular revolution.
Writing on the wall, Bratislava. Photo: Ali Khan
“The sans-culottes expressed their new freedoms through their clothing, transforming dress which had been a mark of poverty into a badge of honour.”
Nicolas Biggs, History Cooperative
Youth Instincts and IdealismIn its purity, streetwear is about idealism and instincts of youth, making it unmistakably anti-establishment. As the youth are faced with adulthood, they feel anger upon discovering the hypocrisy that exists in adult society, giving rise to a need to rebel and shun all things associated with adulthood, starting with the daily corporate uniform that everyone must conform to, to take their place in the society.
Led by the desire to find their own way, the youth rely on the things they trust and have been with them while growing up in the post-industrial, capitalist, broken family system — subcultures. Music and other forms of culture (to varying degrees) thus heavily influence and form an integral part of the new street style into a streetwear movement.
Within the last century we have seen various subcultures rise to form full-fledged ‘streetwear’ movements. Post-World War liberation led by women, youth influence trickling up to haute couture, and the insistence of no status, class, fame or power as the foundation of our modern uniform — these subcultural moments have become style setters.
Thus, paradoxically, a streetwear movement when it arises, interweaves and champions aspirations stemming from the rage against an unjust society, with fashion, and the economics it requires to continue its progression, instantly making it mortal.
Clothing, thus, is not only an important form of expression in street culture, it also lucidly illustrates the mental, social and economic conditions of people living during that age and eventually leads to the celebration of lifestyle that overflows with human spirit, and a greater degree of freedom and individuality.
However, as is the case with all human development, when the movement reaches the second generation, the original face becomes obscured. Because when incorporated into industrial structures, the movement is reshaped to appeal at a popular level, it permeates as a harmless and inoffensive new mode tailored for rapid assimilation and consumption.
What was spontaneously generated by young people is then turned into business ventures by corporations. And sold back to the young as popular trends — revived as supposed ‘new’ styles. At this point street style and music lose their malice and spite. And are persuaded to exist for the sake of external beauty alone. More and more, the image possessed by external appearance is utilized by mass media to instill added value in their products till the most mainstream of populations come to accept it as normal. The Streetwear movement is thus dead!
This is the case with the receding streetwear movement that we witnessed over the last two decades and perhaps longer. While originally starting from the obscure and alienated urban youth in the big cities of US, skateboarding and surfing culture went on to form strong bonds with fashion, influencing it to a point where streetwear became near synonymous with luxury and high-end fashion. But the saturation of this trend has reached a point that it can longer be justified to term it as streetwear anymore. Or leisurewear, casual wear, fashion sportswear, whatever you want to call it. And when a movement reaches yet another point when you see $3,000 limited edition skateboards at Louis Vuitton and company, while also seeing $30 boards at the most mainstream of high street shops like Primark, etc. then that movement has come to end. And with it starts fashion’s search for the new subculture to appropriate.
In the current-present, the LGBTQIA+ movement is clearly the sub-culture of influence that displays all the aspects needed for a full-fledged movement.
But clothing is never too far from the events of the world, and as the world slowly reverses back from uninhibited globalization into a multipolar world with various systems and philosophies competing for our attention, it is also not the only streetwear movement taking shape. However, it is definitely the more developed one thus far, checking all the boxes for the formation of a new streetwear movement, that also has the backing of the neo-liberal democratic governments who have weaponized it as a foreign policy tool. This can be a double-edged sword, as in the short term it could get a boost through rapid amplification through established media but that can also harm the movement as it gets co-opted prematurely before it has laid down strong and authentic foundations.
Led by the desire to find their own way, the youth rely on the things they trust and have been with them while growing up in the post-industrial, capitalist, broken family system — subcultures. Music and other forms of culture (to varying degrees) thus heavily influence and form an integral part of the new street style into a streetwear movement.
Within the last century we have seen various subcultures rise to form full-fledged ‘streetwear’ movements. Post-World War liberation led by women, youth influence trickling up to haute couture, and the insistence of no status, class, fame or power as the foundation of our modern uniform — these subcultural moments have become style setters.
Thus, paradoxically, a streetwear movement when it arises, interweaves and champions aspirations stemming from the rage against an unjust society, with fashion, and the economics it requires to continue its progression, instantly making it mortal.
Clothing, thus, is not only an important form of expression in street culture, it also lucidly illustrates the mental, social and economic conditions of people living during that age and eventually leads to the celebration of lifestyle that overflows with human spirit, and a greater degree of freedom and individuality.
Writing on the wall, Tbilisi. Photo: Ali Khan
However, as is the case with all human development, when the movement reaches the second generation, the original face becomes obscured. Because when incorporated into industrial structures, the movement is reshaped to appeal at a popular level, it permeates as a harmless and inoffensive new mode tailored for rapid assimilation and consumption.What was spontaneously generated by young people is then turned into business ventures by corporations. And sold back to the young as popular trends — revived as supposed ‘new’ styles. At this point street style and music lose their malice and spite. And are persuaded to exist for the sake of external beauty alone. More and more, the image possessed by external appearance is utilized by mass media to instill added value in their products till the most mainstream of populations come to accept it as normal. The Streetwear movement is thus dead!
This is the case with the receding streetwear movement that we witnessed over the last two decades and perhaps longer. While originally starting from the obscure and alienated urban youth in the big cities of US, skateboarding and surfing culture went on to form strong bonds with fashion, influencing it to a point where streetwear became near synonymous with luxury and high-end fashion. But the saturation of this trend has reached a point that it can longer be justified to term it as streetwear anymore. Or leisurewear, casual wear, fashion sportswear, whatever you want to call it. And when a movement reaches yet another point when you see $3,000 limited edition skateboards at Louis Vuitton and company, while also seeing $30 boards at the most mainstream of high street shops like Primark, etc. then that movement has come to end. And with it starts fashion’s search for the new subculture to appropriate.
In the current-present, the LGBTQIA+ movement is clearly the sub-culture of influence that displays all the aspects needed for a full-fledged movement.
But clothing is never too far from the events of the world, and as the world slowly reverses back from uninhibited globalization into a multipolar world with various systems and philosophies competing for our attention, it is also not the only streetwear movement taking shape. However, it is definitely the more developed one thus far, checking all the boxes for the formation of a new streetwear movement, that also has the backing of the neo-liberal democratic governments who have weaponized it as a foreign policy tool. This can be a double-edged sword, as in the short term it could get a boost through rapid amplification through established media but that can also harm the movement as it gets co-opted prematurely before it has laid down strong and authentic foundations.
However, it is definitely the more developed one thus far, checking all the boxes for the formation of a new streetwear movement, that also has the backing of the neo-liberal democratic governments who have weaponized it as a foreign policy tool.
Modest Streetwear, being shaped through the lives and experiences of Muslim immigrants in Europe and to some extent in the US is one such competing movement. There are several others — each with their own pros and cons. At this point, however, these movements all lack a fully developed, original vocabulary and hence not within the scope of this essay.
In that context, the influence of LGBTQIA+ grounded brands is already being seen at the high-end level: Ludovic de Saint Sernin, GMBH, Ottolinger, Louis Gabriel Nouchi and Dion Lee being some of the more famous names that play on such subcultural codes but are also committed to being a larger, high fashion brand. At an even higher level, brands like Balenciaga and Rick Owens freely borrow codes from these subcultures but are too high-end to genuinely form the face of such a movement.
Other brands like Jordan Luca or LazoSchmidl cater to a specifically LGBTQIA+ core customer while borrowing codes from outgoing streetwear and high-end fashion making them too niche to speak to a wider audience. Their presence and success, however, still continues to speak of the potential and momentum of this movement overall.
The rise of this movement also expectedly coincides with the rise of male exotic lingerie brands that after centuries of stasis, push men’s undergarments into territories it has not ventured into. While this stays a niche market, it is nonetheless a consistently growing one, just like the overall menswear fashion market, and forms another component to this larger, new streetwear trend. Greg Homme, Nasty pig, TOF Paris, CellBlock 13, American Jock are some brands that are finding traction beyond the closets of LGBTQIA+ customers.
Knit brief by Shame. Photo: Ali Khan
In high fashion, Hedi Slimane, who always seems to have his pulse on the street youth scene, presented a menswear show for Summer 2024 that again validates this thesis. The collection with its oversized bow ties, halter and cowl necklines was one of the most feminine yet to hit the runway for a major luxury brand. And with the LCD Soundsystem song ‘I am Losing My Edge’ as the choice soundtrack for the show, the point Hedi was making was loud and clear: This aesthetic is integral to the future of menswear and yes, he calls ownership to it, having done this — albeit with more subtlety — two decades ago at Dior Homme.
Predictions are not easy, and with the departure of Hood By Air, one of the original streetwear brands that not only blurred streetwear and high fashion but also merged queer aesthetics with the street, a vacuum exists that needs to be filled.
So, in looking for the next big thing, the brands best positioned to take on the proverbial baton from Supreme or Palace can be any or all of the following: Namilia, Fang NYC, Emerree Studios, Shame, Leaks New York, Dominnico — brands that are committed to their customer base, are accessible in price point and definitely provocative in their visual display, insisting on a clear rebellion to the graphic hoodie staple of the previous streetwear movement. It is true that some of these brands might not survive time (the brutal reality of fashion business applies to all) but those that do, have the chance to be that proverbial ‘next Supreme’.
Most participants of this scene being gender fluid and their environment clearly grounded in the codes of club culture (the skateboarding equivalent as the leisure activity of choice for this particular group) — it is the same clash with adulthood that we talked about earlier that is happening now. As the ‘crisis decade’ labors on from one crisis to the next, it is natural for this subculture to look for the safety and comfort of the youth club scene, arguably a place where they have felt the most accepted for who they are.
What is exciting about this direction is that after a very long-time, new fashion details and styling codes are being incorporated into menswear, vastly expanding its design vocabulary and making a clear break from what has, in its recent history, been of extreme restraint — an almost authoritarian aesthetical inflexibility. Instilling new ideas into traditional design are never easy, but to their credit, these designers have been able to infuse menswear with such details that they are able to catch the very important ‘NOW’ factor that everyone’s go to ‘fashion guide’, Helmut Lang preached all through the 90s.
In that context, the influence of LGBTQIA+ grounded brands is already being seen at the high-end level: Ludovic de Saint Sernin, GMBH, Ottolinger, Louis Gabriel Nouchi and Dion Lee being some of the more famous names that play on such subcultural codes but are also committed to being a larger, high fashion brand. At an even higher level, brands like Balenciaga and Rick Owens freely borrow codes from these subcultures but are too high-end to genuinely form the face of such a movement.
Other brands like Jordan Luca or LazoSchmidl cater to a specifically LGBTQIA+ core customer while borrowing codes from outgoing streetwear and high-end fashion making them too niche to speak to a wider audience. Their presence and success, however, still continues to speak of the potential and momentum of this movement overall.
The rise of this movement also expectedly coincides with the rise of male exotic lingerie brands that after centuries of stasis, push men’s undergarments into territories it has not ventured into. While this stays a niche market, it is nonetheless a consistently growing one, just like the overall menswear fashion market, and forms another component to this larger, new streetwear trend. Greg Homme, Nasty pig, TOF Paris, CellBlock 13, American Jock are some brands that are finding traction beyond the closets of LGBTQIA+ customers.
In high fashion, Hedi Slimane, who always seems to have his pulse on the street youth scene, presented a menswear show for Summer 2024 that again validates this thesis. The collection with its oversized bow ties, halter and cowl necklines was one of the most feminine yet to hit the runway for a major luxury brand. And with the LCD Soundsystem song ‘I am Losing My Edge’ as the choice soundtrack for the show, the point Hedi was making was loud and clear: This aesthetic is integral to the future of menswear and yes, he calls ownership to it, having done this — albeit with more subtlety — two decades ago at Dior Homme.
Predictions are not easy, and with the departure of Hood By Air, one of the original streetwear brands that not only blurred streetwear and high fashion but also merged queer aesthetics with the street, a vacuum exists that needs to be filled.
So, in looking for the next big thing, the brands best positioned to take on the proverbial baton from Supreme or Palace can be any or all of the following: Namilia, Fang NYC, Emerree Studios, Shame, Leaks New York, Dominnico — brands that are committed to their customer base, are accessible in price point and definitely provocative in their visual display, insisting on a clear rebellion to the graphic hoodie staple of the previous streetwear movement. It is true that some of these brands might not survive time (the brutal reality of fashion business applies to all) but those that do, have the chance to be that proverbial ‘next Supreme’.
Most participants of this scene being gender fluid and their environment clearly grounded in the codes of club culture (the skateboarding equivalent as the leisure activity of choice for this particular group) — it is the same clash with adulthood that we talked about earlier that is happening now. As the ‘crisis decade’ labors on from one crisis to the next, it is natural for this subculture to look for the safety and comfort of the youth club scene, arguably a place where they have felt the most accepted for who they are.
What is exciting about this direction is that after a very long-time, new fashion details and styling codes are being incorporated into menswear, vastly expanding its design vocabulary and making a clear break from what has, in its recent history, been of extreme restraint — an almost authoritarian aesthetical inflexibility. Instilling new ideas into traditional design are never easy, but to their credit, these designers have been able to infuse menswear with such details that they are able to catch the very important ‘NOW’ factor that everyone’s go to ‘fashion guide’, Helmut Lang preached all through the 90s.
It is also not surprising that after a long streetwear movement that borrowed and disseminated codes of white male sub-culture onto each gender, that this time, with rise of ‘neo-feminism, gender equality, me-too’ movements, the female dress codes reflect the core of the emerging streetwear scene. The current revival of Jean-Paul Gaultier and Thierry Mugler is not coincidental either, with both being the champions of androgyny going the other way (most often it is seen through the lens of menswear being adopted for women e.g., YSL, Ann Demeulemeester) from back in their heyday.
Interestingly enough, while a lot of these brands come out of Berlin, Brooklyn and LA — as expected, many also come our way through surprising places like Spain, South Africa, Brazil and Argentina. These are all countries that are simultaneously going through economic growth and economic turmoil, while building on the new vocabulary that globalization has given them. Oddly enough, in alignment with the new multi-polar structure that is developing in the world.
Whether this sub-cultural movement develops into a full-fledged fashion enterprise, it’s hard to say in the current environment. But if there is no new cold war, a major financial collapse, or World War 3, then the chances are pretty clear that it would! So, expect male peacocking to be the norm and your teen boys to be wearing clothes that you would classify as womenswear, only for them to call it “streetwear”, in about 10 years from now.
Streetwear Is Dead; Long Live Streetwear
Collaborations, Drops, Hype: How streetwear conquered high fashion and managed to make itself irrelevant in the process.
July 16, 2021
By Ali Khan | Co-Founder
Image (above): “Rest in Peace” Ali Khan
In December 2020, in an interview with Dazed magazine, Virgil Abloh proclaimed that “streetwear is dead”. Although this statement came as a shock to most, it is not surprising given the cyclical nature of fashion trends. For fashion insiders, it was more ironic than shocking that it was coming from him. After all, Virgil Abloh and company (A Bathing Ape, Mastermind, Alyx) are as much responsible for the death of this current cycle of streetwear trend as they were for popularizing it.
Whether it was the collaborations that were merely cut and paste logos of the collaborating brand; exclusive drops that were so frequent that they went against the value of being exclusive or elusive; or an embrace of social media influencers leading to substituting substance with hype — the need for constant growth and bigger profits diluted the DNA of streetwear to such an extent that it not only damaged the long-term authenticity of these ‘hype’ brands but also accelerated the trend into mainstream culture — a place where fashion typically goes to die.
With globalization and the rapid use of social media amid the ongoing communication revolution, the current trend of streetwear has indeed influenced high fashion more so than ever before. However, it is not a new phenomenon. Streetwear has been influencing high-end fashion for decades. Whether it was Pierre Cardin opting to do ready to wear in the 60’s, Vivienne Westwood putting punk on the runway in the 70’s or Versace showing denim jeans as high fashion in the 80’s, the influence of street on designers has been strong and consistent.
By Ali Khan | Co-Founder
Image (above): “Rest in Peace” Ali Khan
In December 2020, in an interview with Dazed magazine, Virgil Abloh proclaimed that “streetwear is dead”. Although this statement came as a shock to most, it is not surprising given the cyclical nature of fashion trends. For fashion insiders, it was more ironic than shocking that it was coming from him. After all, Virgil Abloh and company (A Bathing Ape, Mastermind, Alyx) are as much responsible for the death of this current cycle of streetwear trend as they were for popularizing it.
Whether it was the collaborations that were merely cut and paste logos of the collaborating brand; exclusive drops that were so frequent that they went against the value of being exclusive or elusive; or an embrace of social media influencers leading to substituting substance with hype — the need for constant growth and bigger profits diluted the DNA of streetwear to such an extent that it not only damaged the long-term authenticity of these ‘hype’ brands but also accelerated the trend into mainstream culture — a place where fashion typically goes to die.
VETEMENTS season-defining FALL 2017 “YOU FUCK’N ASSHOLE” FOOTBALL JERSEY. Ali Khan
With globalization and the rapid use of social media amid the ongoing communication revolution, the current trend of streetwear has indeed influenced high fashion more so than ever before. However, it is not a new phenomenon. Streetwear has been influencing high-end fashion for decades. Whether it was Pierre Cardin opting to do ready to wear in the 60’s, Vivienne Westwood putting punk on the runway in the 70’s or Versace showing denim jeans as high fashion in the 80’s, the influence of street on designers has been strong and consistent.VETEMENTS season-defining FALL 2017 “YOU FUCK’N ASSHOLE” FOOTBALL JERSEY. Ali Khan
Even though the restraint and deconstructed anti-fashion period of the 90’s fashion, the two most influential designers of that decade (Prada and Helmut Lang) still further solidified the permanence of street values into high fashion by incorporating them into their brand’s design DNA. However, till this point, even with all the street influence, high fashion was unmistakably high fashion. The designer brands at large could never be mistaken for a streetwear brand.
The current iteration of street influence and its mixing with high fashion can be traced back to the establishment of labels like ‘A Bathing Ape’ and ‘Mastermind’ coming out of Japan in the ’90s. These brands started with a basic objective: bring high-end fabrication and construction quality to a market that usually lacks both to meet a certain price point. This strategy immediately elevated these brands into designer price points, putting them wrongly into the high fashion universe. Thus, the current cycle of streetwear influence on fashion had officially begun, blurring the lines between street and high fashion and giving birth to categories like ‘Luxury Streetwear’. The last decade has seen this phenomenon handled masterfully at times (Demna Gvasalia, Kim Jones (somewhat), Hiroshi Fujiwara) and disastrously at other times (Amiri, Matthew M. Williams at Givenchy).
Sentiments on a Tokyo Sidewalk. Photo: Ali Khan
I’d also like to add that amongst the scores of designers who have masterfully contributed to this phenomenon if there was one person who can be credited as the leader — it would be Shayne Oliver and his genre-breaking collections at ‘Hood By Air’. But to label Shayne Oliver as a ‘streetwear designer’ is inaccurate. Too often, Shayne Oliver, along with Demna Gvasalia are mistakenly labelled as such. They have strong roots in streetwear, and they are skilled designers. Their street influence comes not from hype culture but their own lived experience, examined, integrated, and expressed as a clear creative direction. Even to a half-trained eye, what they present on the runway is anything but streetwear as defined by mainstream consumers or corporations. The unwarranted abuse they sometimes face for expressing that authenticity in their clothes further points to a dying corporate agenda that is so closed off to anything new. It makes sense that there is an overreliance on hype and never-ending collaborations to keep the power and profits firmly in the grips of the owners of these establishments. To create another label to describe their position is to discredit their authority as designers and ‘the street’ as a legitimate source of inspiration for high fashion.
The current iteration of street influence and its mixing with high fashion can be traced back to the establishment of labels like ‘A Bathing Ape’ and ‘Mastermind’ coming out of Japan in the ’90s. These brands started with a basic objective: bring high-end fabrication and construction quality to a market that usually lacks both to meet a certain price point. This strategy immediately elevated these brands into designer price points, putting them wrongly into the high fashion universe. Thus, the current cycle of streetwear influence on fashion had officially begun, blurring the lines between street and high fashion and giving birth to categories like ‘Luxury Streetwear’. The last decade has seen this phenomenon handled masterfully at times (Demna Gvasalia, Kim Jones (somewhat), Hiroshi Fujiwara) and disastrously at other times (Amiri, Matthew M. Williams at Givenchy).
I’d also like to add that amongst the scores of designers who have masterfully contributed to this phenomenon if there was one person who can be credited as the leader — it would be Shayne Oliver and his genre-breaking collections at ‘Hood By Air’. But to label Shayne Oliver as a ‘streetwear designer’ is inaccurate. Too often, Shayne Oliver, along with Demna Gvasalia are mistakenly labelled as such. They have strong roots in streetwear, and they are skilled designers. Their street influence comes not from hype culture but their own lived experience, examined, integrated, and expressed as a clear creative direction. Even to a half-trained eye, what they present on the runway is anything but streetwear as defined by mainstream consumers or corporations. The unwarranted abuse they sometimes face for expressing that authenticity in their clothes further points to a dying corporate agenda that is so closed off to anything new. It makes sense that there is an overreliance on hype and never-ending collaborations to keep the power and profits firmly in the grips of the owners of these establishments. To create another label to describe their position is to discredit their authority as designers and ‘the street’ as a legitimate source of inspiration for high fashion.
It makes sense that there is an overreliance on hype and never-ending collaborations to keep the power and profits firmly in the grips of the owners of these establishments.
The peak of this trend can arguably be identified as the Supreme and Louis Vuitton (LV) collaboration for LV’s Fall 2017 Menswear collection. Deemed as the most sought-after collection by streetwear aficionados and having an obnoxiously high resale value, the collection was thought to be a risky move for a luxury brand like LV to associate itself with a streetwear brand. Interestingly, however, while LV reaped the rewards of the collection by buying some much-needed street cred and ‘cool’, it was Supreme that was criticized by its core customer and accused of selling out.
For years, Supreme had been able to create a mystique and maintain a cult following of die-hard customers through a carefully controlled business plan that actually borrowed key principles of the luxury business model: scarcity, exclusivity, and elusiveness, all the while selling at a relatively accessible price point to maintain its loyal core customers. The LV collaboration brought to Supreme throngs of new customers that were rich, susceptible to hype, and desperate to be fashionable. To its credit, Supreme, for the three years since the collaboration (till its recent acquisition by VF Corp.), stuck to its decades-old strategy, overcoming any temptation to expand rapidly and hence still commanded the loyalty of its core customer. Over time it will be interesting to see how Supreme evolves under its new owners — although judging from the current expansion plans, it seems ready to settle in alongside other big VF Corp brands living off their heritage.
Within the design houses, around this time, another clear shift was taking place. The emphasis on calling the design head ‘creative director’ and not a designer (as it was traditionally known) became common practice. This was not a coincidence and directly corresponded to the misguided hiring of ‘streetwear designers’ atop luxury brands. Matthew M Williams at Givenchy, Virgil Abloh at Louis Vuitton are a few examples whose collections, despite having found a new audience, have alienated a significant chunk of core customers while failing to bring anything new to the fashion conversation. Their lack of understanding of what luxury and high fashion is has been obvious and the limits in the skills and vocabulary of these designers have been well documented in the various independent reviews. This is especially visible in womenswear, which is generally more intricate and complex in its cut and fit and is not limited to classic staple pieces as menswear does. It has undoubtedly played a role in accelerating the demise of the streetwear trend from high fashion itself.
The above-mentioned acquisition of Supreme by VF Corp, as well as the acquisition of Stone Island by Moncler further point to the end of this era. The message is clear: The streetwear wave that these (and countless other brands) were riding is dwindling, and it’s time to find an investor with deep pockets to manage these brands for the future. And although these brands will survive and grow, they will now take their place as institutions of mainstream style within the sphere of fashion pop culture. Their days of influencing fashion are over. The same could not be said for the hundreds of other streetwear brands that have popped up in the last decade with very little authentic heritage to call its own: Palm Angels, Heron Preston, Ambush to name a few. Think Miss Sixty, Energie from the 90’s — brands specifically established to cash in on a growing trend and immediately feel out of place once the trend is dead — a common occurrence in fashion that happens every decade.
Furthermore, the first signs of fatigue of the ‘cut and paste’ collaborations are starting to show. The hottest of these collaborations still sell out in hours (Sacai X Nike, Casablanca X New Balance), but others now linger in the retail oblivion for months, even going on discounts like the seasonal collections (Kim Jones X Nike 2021; Kim Jones X Converse 2021) — making it clear that name and logo branding is no longer enough to carry the lazy design efforts that have become the hallmark of streetwear as it stands now.
The above-mentioned acquisition of Supreme by VF Corp, as well as the acquisition of Stone Island by Moncler further point to the end of this era. The message is clear: The streetwear wave that these (and countless other brands) were riding is dwindling, and it’s time to find an investor with deep pockets to manage these brands for the future. And although these brands will survive and grow, they will now take their place as institutions of mainstream style within the sphere of fashion pop culture. Their days of influencing fashion are over. The same could not be said for the hundreds of other streetwear brands that have popped up in the last decade with very little authentic heritage to call its own: Palm Angels, Heron Preston, Ambush to name a few. Think Miss Sixty, Energie from the 90’s — brands specifically established to cash in on a growing trend and immediately feel out of place once the trend is dead — a common occurrence in fashion that happens every decade.
Furthermore, the first signs of fatigue of the ‘cut and paste’ collaborations are starting to show. The hottest of these collaborations still sell out in hours (Sacai X Nike, Casablanca X New Balance), but others now linger in the retail oblivion for months, even going on discounts like the seasonal collections (Kim Jones X Nike 2021; Kim Jones X Converse 2021) — making it clear that name and logo branding is no longer enough to carry the lazy design efforts that have become the hallmark of streetwear as it stands now.
Branding for Kim Jones X Nike Collaboration 2021. Photo: Ali Khan
Streetwear by nature is anti-fashion, and the word itself vaguely describes a newly developing culture through an interaction of artists with diverse backgrounds, talents, and visions.
So yes, streetwear, as Virgil knows it and has come to influence, might be dying but streetwear in its authenticity will live on. Streetwear by nature is anti-fashion, and the word itself vaguely describes a newly developing culture through an interaction of artists with diverse backgrounds, talents, and visions. It is not meant to become an institution and is not comfortable in the spotlight. So, as words like ‘sneakerhead’ and ‘oversize hoodie’ now become part of the mainstream vocabulary permanently, there is one thing we can be sure of about high fashion: it does not like the mainstream. The fashion-forward crowd and the early adopters have long moved on from streetwear seasons ago. The next decade, like all the previous ones, will be defined by a new group of designers, and those designers can be anywhere in the world right now, most probably struggling to stay afloat, unknown to the mainstream till the tide of trend turns in their favor. Streetwear hence will not die, it will merely reinvent again for and through a new generation of youth, cleansing itself of the old and irrelevant and authentically catering to the subcultures that it belongs to without the pretensions of high fashion.
Move Over Chanel Jacket,
The Anrealage Jacket Has Arrived
The Anrealage Jacket Has Arrived
Anrealage Homme AW 24
June 30, 2024
By Ali Khan | Co-Founder
Photo (above): Anrealage debuts anrealage homme at Rakuten Fashion Week Tokyo AW24. Ali Khan
One of the three guest designers invited to show during Rakuten Fashion Week Tokyo, Fall/Winter 2024 edition, was the venerable Japanese fashion house Anrealage.
The practice of inviting big names that usually show in Europe to come back and take part in the national fashion week has long been core to the Japan Fashion Council’s strategy.
What exactly it’s meant to achieve can be up for debate — publicity for Rakuten Fashion Week Tokyo? Inspiration for younger designers? Projection of Japanese soft power? Who can say except for the organizers, but it’s clear that a one-off showing can hardly build the momentum needed to amount to anything substantial.
Over the years, it has resulted in a mixed bag of spectacular outings (Ambush) and some underwhelming results (COVID-19 put a damper on Undercover’s show) but for us attendees each is a treat — a way to be entertained without much invested in terms of analysis.
So, when Anrealage announced that they would be debuting their inaugural Anrealage Homme line (rather than repeating the show they put on in Paris two weeks ago; unlike BAPE last season) it was a moment to stop and ponder — could this actually be a purposeful show by a heavy-hitter and more than just a PR exercise?
In my years of attending fashion shows I have learnt one thing — when a brand is on the rise, they make all the right decisions, and so effortlessly, that you think they could do no wrong. Anrealage has been in that zone for the last few seasons.
Always forsaken for the avant-garde creations of Rei Kawakubo, the youthful rebellion of Jun Takahashi’s streetwear or the polished ladies of Chitose Abe, Designer Kunihiko Morinaga has quietly but confidently built his brand with his unique language that can form another pillar of Japanese fashion next to Rei, Issey, and Yohji. The show was rightfully given the finale slot on the last day of the official schedule. (There were a couple of amazing designers that showed afterwards but off schedule.)
As we were sitting waiting for the show to start, and the crowd was trickling in, a bomber jacket in trademark patchwork (a hallmark of the brand) could be seen on various guests. Like the show to follow, the jacket stood out in the sea of people who had come to witness this debut showing — understated and austere in its essence but nonetheless commanding center-stage with exquisite craftsmanship.
A little research later on informed me that the jacket is, in fact, a made-to-order item for the brand, utilizing its zero waste principles while giving you a custom, one-of-a-kind piece for approximately ¥500,000. Kunihiko Morinaga has just merged Saville Row tailoring and French Haute Couture, and made it look so easy that you might not even notice it if you weren’t paying close attention.
Designers spend years trying to build an original visual language that can become synonymous with their brand. Few succeed. Yet, even rarer is when a garment can be named after the designer, as is the case with the Chanel Jacket.
Anrealage with their Patchwork MA-1 Jacket may have created an item that should always be called the “Anrealeage Jacket” going forward, and that is an achievement most of his peers cannot lay claim to, even with their legendary status.
By Ali Khan | Co-Founder
Photo (above): Anrealage debuts anrealage homme at Rakuten Fashion Week Tokyo AW24. Ali Khan
One of the three guest designers invited to show during Rakuten Fashion Week Tokyo, Fall/Winter 2024 edition, was the venerable Japanese fashion house Anrealage.
The practice of inviting big names that usually show in Europe to come back and take part in the national fashion week has long been core to the Japan Fashion Council’s strategy.
What exactly it’s meant to achieve can be up for debate — publicity for Rakuten Fashion Week Tokyo? Inspiration for younger designers? Projection of Japanese soft power? Who can say except for the organizers, but it’s clear that a one-off showing can hardly build the momentum needed to amount to anything substantial.
Over the years, it has resulted in a mixed bag of spectacular outings (Ambush) and some underwhelming results (COVID-19 put a damper on Undercover’s show) but for us attendees each is a treat — a way to be entertained without much invested in terms of analysis.
So, when Anrealage announced that they would be debuting their inaugural Anrealage Homme line (rather than repeating the show they put on in Paris two weeks ago; unlike BAPE last season) it was a moment to stop and ponder — could this actually be a purposeful show by a heavy-hitter and more than just a PR exercise?
In my years of attending fashion shows I have learnt one thing — when a brand is on the rise, they make all the right decisions, and so effortlessly, that you think they could do no wrong. Anrealage has been in that zone for the last few seasons.
Always forsaken for the avant-garde creations of Rei Kawakubo, the youthful rebellion of Jun Takahashi’s streetwear or the polished ladies of Chitose Abe, Designer Kunihiko Morinaga has quietly but confidently built his brand with his unique language that can form another pillar of Japanese fashion next to Rei, Issey, and Yohji. The show was rightfully given the finale slot on the last day of the official schedule. (There were a couple of amazing designers that showed afterwards but off schedule.)
As we were sitting waiting for the show to start, and the crowd was trickling in, a bomber jacket in trademark patchwork (a hallmark of the brand) could be seen on various guests. Like the show to follow, the jacket stood out in the sea of people who had come to witness this debut showing — understated and austere in its essence but nonetheless commanding center-stage with exquisite craftsmanship.
A little research later on informed me that the jacket is, in fact, a made-to-order item for the brand, utilizing its zero waste principles while giving you a custom, one-of-a-kind piece for approximately ¥500,000. Kunihiko Morinaga has just merged Saville Row tailoring and French Haute Couture, and made it look so easy that you might not even notice it if you weren’t paying close attention.
Designers spend years trying to build an original visual language that can become synonymous with their brand. Few succeed. Yet, even rarer is when a garment can be named after the designer, as is the case with the Chanel Jacket.
Anrealage with their Patchwork MA-1 Jacket may have created an item that should always be called the “Anrealeage Jacket” going forward, and that is an achievement most of his peers cannot lay claim to, even with their legendary status.
Anrealage with their Patchwork MA-1 Jacket may have created an item that should always be called the “Anrealage Jacket” going forward, and that is an achievement most of his peers cannot lay claim to, even with their legendary status.
The collection was a masterclass in menswear design (Nigo at Kenzo, please take note). Sometimes there are things that one feels but never fully comprehends until one encounters a special moment that crystallizes things. This show could be regarded as such a moment for the future of menswear design, and in turn, is equally a call-out to the lazy designing coming from established menswear brands.
The language was easy and accessible — bomber jackets, souvenir jackets, tailoring, timeless menswear silhouettes — but the treatment of each code showed off the fusion of vision and exquisite craftsmanship that has become synonymous with this brand, marking its place far above the competition.
In economic times where value for money is becoming more integral to consumers, no one offers that value for your dollars (or yen or perhaps yuan in the fast-approaching multipolar world) than Anrealage.
Going back to the Chanel Jacket — the all-over button embellished Anrealage version (it seems designers can’t escape Chanel’s influence these days) in pink that opened the show, might as well be crowned the best ensemble of the entire week! So much so that I’d say, if as a fashion aficionado you do not own one, then your wardrobe is incomplete! And 20 years from now, perhaps all designers will be doing their version of the Anrealage Jacket.
The language was easy and accessible — bomber jackets, souvenir jackets, tailoring, timeless menswear silhouettes — but the treatment of each code showed off the fusion of vision and exquisite craftsmanship that has become synonymous with this brand, marking its place far above the competition.
In economic times where value for money is becoming more integral to consumers, no one offers that value for your dollars (or yen or perhaps yuan in the fast-approaching multipolar world) than Anrealage.
Going back to the Chanel Jacket — the all-over button embellished Anrealage version (it seems designers can’t escape Chanel’s influence these days) in pink that opened the show, might as well be crowned the best ensemble of the entire week! So much so that I’d say, if as a fashion aficionado you do not own one, then your wardrobe is incomplete! And 20 years from now, perhaps all designers will be doing their version of the Anrealage Jacket.