Representing the creative future

The resurgence of the corset through the work of 9 emerging designers

9 young corset makers prove that since their creation, corsets haven’t ever left fashion

The corset is centuries old. It’s evolved through eras and styles du jour but has always served the same purpose: as control garments that help flatter the female form. Women as early as the 16th century put stays over another garment, under a dress so it would, as the name suggests, stay upright. Last year, one might have thought that the time spent isolating would have turned everyone’s feed into a hotbed for slouchy stay-at-home outfits of the day, but no; some opted for a corset to pose, express, and discover themselves.

Much ink has been devoted to corsets. They were once deemed by doctors and journalists “an oppressive, rib-crushing garment”, one that put (as it always has been, really) unrealistic beauty standards on women. While it certainly reached far-too-tight, hourglass-esque styles, that happened to be pseudo-science. And, yet, even to this day, when mentioned, corsets still carry that baggage of past left criticism.

A historically loaded garment, which may not always have been seen in the most positive light, why is it that people still want to wear them, why do designers keep making them? To find out, we spoke with nine emerging fashion talents who find the corset ultimately empowering.

Sonia Trefilova

London-based Russian designer Sonia Trefilova makes crocheted lingerie and reinterpreted Edwardian corsets among other dreamlike fashion pieces.

Did your interest in antique textiles play into your decision to make corsets? 

It all started as a fun challenge for me. I had a vintage pillowcase and wanted to use the fabric for a garment and thought that the corset fitted best. I have always been attracted to lingerie, and I like the fact that a corset is a timeless piece someone can own and keep in their closet for years. It’s both small and sculptural, almost like a piece of art. I remember the first corset I ever made, I approached it with no research, and just went with my instinct with the help of a very close friend.

“All of the detailing I do is by hand, which is actually more similar to how corsets used to be made in the past, but with an entirely different purpose. “

When it comes to designing, I like to have no drawings and let the fabric guide me. Now I am more guided by my research and experience, but how they turn out remains a surprise. All of the detailing I do is by hand, which is actually more similar to how corsets used to be made in the past, but with an entirely different purpose. Whilst corsets may have been seen as a symbol of female oppression, I view mine as a sign of sensuality and empowerment through the pursuit of pleasure.

What’s your creative process when it comes to making corsets?

I take a very active role in the creative process from the start of the project. I like going to the market, to pick out the right vintage fabric, with the right amount of lace and embroidery. If the market doesn’t have what I am looking for I usually go to one of my trusted sellers on eBay and Etsy, which are also great to look for vintage fabrics. I take a lot of inspiration from the fabric and, to experiment further, I have recently purchased an antique mannequin with a wasp waist to try more corset designs on it. For my last collection, I have adopted a very different approach to the modern bodice shape, accentuating on making a small waist and protruding hips in the style of the Edwardian S-shape era bodices.

“Corsets are classical pieces that are treasured by their owners. My first ever corset was handed down to me from my mother, who had bought it years before but never worn it. “

Why do you think people still want to wear corsets? How would you like others to feel when they wear your pieces?

Corsets are classical pieces that are treasured by their owners. My first ever corset was handed down to me from my mother, who had bought it years before but never worn it. I understand why it isn’t the most casual thing to wear… but if people are still wearing corsets, I think it’s to enhance their own sensuality and feminine attributes. I find it very interesting how they are still part of today’s culture despite their divisive past. I can’t tell how the wearer would feel in a corset I made, but I would hope that they feel beautiful, sensual, and unique in it.

all is a gentle spring

all is a gentle spring founder Isabelle Hellyer revises past fashion periods and recontextualises them into sensual ensembles.

How would you debunk this idea that corsets were oppressive to women?

Well, the idea of corsets as a controversial garment is much newer than corsets themselves. Stays — the precursor to what we now call corsets — were never considered instruments of torture. They reshaped the body, but they didn’t resize it, and that’s a really important distinction. You could have the most accurate, lush gown, but it wouldn’t look right if the supporting garments beneath weren’t creating the correct silhouette for the period. In the 17th century, you needed a more flat-fronted torso with quite a long waist, so the long, peaked bodices and stomachers would sit flat and smooth. And in the 18th century, a more bow-fronted shape came into vogue, so boning was added horizontally, below the neckline to create the illusion of a more forward-projected bust. It’s the very same placement you see in Vivienne Westwood wink at with the corsets debuted in Harris Tweed.

“You can’t divorce the corset from how people actually lived and still hope to understand it. “

It’s also important to consider how women of both centuries actually got into their clothes. It was a time before zippers and even buttons weren’t all too common, so most dresses were fastened in place with dressmaking pins. Gowns were actually pinned into the boned stays below, so the all-around boning was a sort of protective, functional shell. Women could pin their dress down to something and the skin would never be pricked. The pinning-in-place method also made dress sizing quite flexible, so gowns could be worn through pregnancies and other weight fluctuations.

You can’t divorce the corset from how people actually lived and still hope to understand it. If you watch how women got into their clothes in the 1800s and consider the boned stay in the context of the entire ensemble, it immediately seems far more functional than at first it would appear.

“Today, we certainly make clothes that are much easier to put on — faster, more elastic, and more efficient. But today’s garments aren’t necessarily longer-lasting or more supportive. And whose business is it to decide if they’re ultimately better?”

Then would you say that corsets are embracing the body of those who wear them, not restricting them? What about the ones that you make?

I’d say that’s true of any well-made corset, and that stands as much for 1721 as for 2021. Corsets have always been based on this idea that you don’t fundamentally change the size of the body, you just play with proportions to give a different impression. I’d say my corsets are similar to modern bras in that they support and lift the breasts, though it’s through a different mechanism. The force of a modern bra is in the over-the-shoulder strap, which can dig, especially for larger cup sizes. A corset disperses that force fairly evenly and supports the breasts from below, rather than pulling them upwards. Modern bras have the most in common with late Victorian corsets, which isn’t quite what I make. Most women today with an E cup or greater would probably find a 17th or 18th-century corset far more comfortable than a bra.

I think there’s a natural tendency to assume that we’ve made progress, and to feel that the way things are done today is superior to the way things were done in the past. Today, we certainly make clothes that are much easier to put on — faster, more elastic, and more efficient. But today’s garments aren’t necessarily longer-lasting or more supportive. And whose business is it to decide if they’re ultimately better?

When you first introduced all is a gentle spring, you released white tees and athleisure staples such as leotards and skin-tight shorts together with a corset. How do corsets fit into your vision of how women nowadays want to dress? 

The most ahistorical proposition of my corsetry is really just that modern corsets are worn against bare skin. Historic stays never were—there was always a base layer, a cotton or linen chemise, between the stays and the naked body. Putting a corset against bare skin was never really done. And the styling, as you’ve noted, is a historical hodge-podge. I love tight 80s aerobic shorts with a corset. I have fun making connections between these sensual, body-conscious moments in fashion. I like to show people that spandex and baleen were used to a similar effect.

How would you explain the resurgence of corsets? Does that have to do with the new wave of feminism online that finds empowerment and liberation through being in full control of their body image? 

I’d chalk it up to people online for sure. There’s a particular sensibility of body-consciousness right now. I think there’s also a desire to create a shape that’s almost unbelievable, or unachievable with surgical intervention. Corsets can give you a really beautiful silhouette for a fraction of the Dr. Miami price.

“There’s this assumption that women – ordinary women, seamstresses, ladies of the court — had no say in the matter of the clothes they wore daily for hundreds of years. But of course, they had a say.”

I do think that our historical literacy is fairly poor. There’s a tendency to feel like we’re the first people to recontextualise the corset, or some similar idea. Aside from the fact that stays weren’t really oppressive in a pejorative sense, we’ve been through this already with Westwood in the 80s, then Gaultier and Madonna in the 90s. Westwood in particular, with her research-first practice and access to the archive of the V&A, would have surely known that the stays that she referenced in her designs were an ordinary part of daily life. I think that’s why she had so much fun in making this ordinary, mundane undergarment into something that pushed and prodded the bust more provocatively. When she said “feminists are unaware of the tremendous extent of the role of women in history,” I think perhaps she was getting at this misguided idea that we’re the first generation to open our eyes and reject these “oppressive” garments.

There’s this assumption that women – ordinary women, seamstresses, ladies of the court — had no say in the matter of the clothes they wore daily for hundreds of years. But of course, they had a say. In 1675, women seamstresses in France successfully lobbied against male tailors’ exclusive legal mandate to create and sell new women’s clothing, and from that point on gowns were really the domain of women. The mantua-maker, the celebrated seamstress, was always a madame. And she set the trends. From the mid-17th century through to the 19th century, women were being dressed by women. The silhouettes change dramatically during that period, and to accommodate these ongoing changes the cut of the corset changes too. But the corset itself, once it came into its own, was never fully done away with. For many women, it served a real purpose, that was both functional and aesthetic.

I’m definitely pleased about the corset resurgence, but perhaps I’d like to come with a bit more context. I think we take the garment in totality — their past and the present — that’s the most interesting perspective of all.

MARINA EEЯRIE

After graduating from Istituto Marangoni, Russian designer Marina Timonova moved to Puglia, Italy, to get closer to the area’s artisan community and start her own fashion label MARINA EEЯRIE.

Was there a moment that convinced you to start focusing on corset making?

The first time I ever put an underbust was when I was 15, which at the time was an attempt to personalise my school uniform. I remember covering it with the matching navy blue uniform we were required to wear and turning it into my everyday outfit at school. Ever since corsets were always a subject of great interest to me. For my graduate collection, I looked into many historical references and complicated storylines, and one of them was about a girl from the past who comes to today’s world to bring justice. I admire contrasts and so when I had to translate fragility and strength into a garment, an armour-like corset came in naturally. Craftsmanship is another reason why I love corsets so much. The amount of time one bustier or one corset requires, the number of details, and the beautiful stitches featured on a corset make every piece truly unique as if it has its own entity.

“In the absence of bras and with very heavy dresses to wear, corsets were the essential garments to provide support for those fashionable dresses.”

Would you agree or disagree with the idea that corsets once promoted unrealistic beauty standards? Any thoughts on the garment’s history?

I agree that tight-laced corsets may have promoted unrealistic beauty standards, however, there are tons of myths and exaggerations about the corsets from the past. The idea that most women had wasp waistlines, had their ribs broken by corsets, or felt oppressed by wearing them is not true at all. Tight-lacing was an exceptional practice and in general, was criticised by both men and women of that time. In the absence of bras and with very heavy dresses to wear, corsets were the essential garments to provide support for those fashionable dresses.

“Today, the image of corsets transitioned to being a symbol of sexual empowerment and rebellion: women can now choose how to wear it, underneath or over a dress, how tight they want it to be, and, most importantly, can choose not to wear it at all.”

The real issue was that, apart from rare exceptions, getting married was the only way for a woman to uplift her position in society. Being greatly objectified, women had no choice but to conform to the beauty standards of their times, including wearing elegant dresses in vogue. That’s why in modern days the image of corsets transitioned to being a symbol of sexual empowerment and rebellion: women can now choose how to wear it, underneath or over a dress, how tight they want it to be, and, most importantly, can choose not to wear it at all. I agree with historians who believe that corsets never actually disappeared — they were just internalised through diets, fitness, and plastic surgery. Therefore, I believe it is unfair to blame a corset itself for unattainable beauty standards, as we can’t blame a knife in a plastic surgeon’s hand. The issue was — and still is — upstream.

Why did you want to reinterpret corsets, and what’s your take on them? 

Well, personally, I don’t always feel confident. But wearing a corset makes me feel empowered. I personally enjoy wearing a slightly tight corset, it gives a comforting feeling, like a hug. That’s what I wanted to achieve when I designed mine: to make others feel strong, but also comforted, without any of the negative side effects. All, while visually highlighting the natural waistline of a woman, giving her a light, feminine, and misleadingly fragile look. That’s the contrast I look for. And I hope that my pieces will make other women feel that way. Actually, the ones I designed are not true corsets. They are a personal take on it, inspired by different elements of stays, corsets, and bustiers. They are modern corset tops that are meant to be comfortable to wear a whole day for a person who wouldn’t necessarily wear them.

Gyouree Kim

Gyouree Kim practiced fashion design for almost a decade before moving to London to pursue studies at Central Saint Martins and the Royal College of Art. It’s led her to create body- and eco-conscious corsets.

What sparked your interest in corsets?

When I moved from South Korea to London to start grad school, I began reflecting on which facets of myself that I wanted to apply to my work. I’ve got an unusually sensitive stomach and that’s always been my biggest concern and source of stress when I’m with others. So during my time doing a graduate diploma at Central Saint Martins, I created a shirt dress whose buttons look like they were going to pop off and a pair of trousers styled as if they were falling down, like when someone desperately rushes to the loo. It was a way for me to address something I was once ashamed of and come to terms with it, seeing it as a normal part of the human condition. Yet I wanted to interpret this not-so-flattering thing beautifully. And so, focusing on the abdominal area, the idea of making corsets sprung to my mind.

“Through research, I ended up trying out biomaterials to make a corset that’s fully degradable and will dissolve naturally in about four minutes once in contact with hot water”

How did you go about designing your corset?

I wanted to make corsets that wouldn’t restrict the body but embrace it. Ones that would be almost therapeutic. After CSM I enrolled in a MA at the Royal College of Art and my tutors there suggested I could integrate some sorts of heaters on a bodice, but it became all too technical and scientific for my liking. Not only do I like couture-like designs too much, but this path would have gotten in conflict with my goal to make a fashion that’s as sustainable as it can be. If I had listened to them, my corsets wouldn’t have been as easily disposable as they now are.

What’s sustainable about your approach, and why is that important to you?

Though I’ve chosen fashion design as my lifelong practice, and as much as I love designing and making clothes, at times I do feel bad and guilty about it, knowing how much of what the fashion industry produces goes to waste. If I want to keep doing what I like, I have to be able to do it in a way that’s empathic towards the environment. I want those who wear my work to feel comfortable and secure, and I want the same for our planet. And so in my practice, I work with existing materials and waste such as deadstock fabrics. Through research, too, I ended up trying out biomaterials to make a corset that’s fully degradable and will dissolve naturally in about four minutes once in contact with hot water, actually.

Kristin Mallison

Kristin Mallison’s corsets are made with tapestries and upholstery fabrics sourced from pointe shoes and mid-century furniture such as sofas and cushions.

You work in interior design, right? Is that where the idea of designing clothes with tapestries came from? What were the first pieces you’ve made out of upholstery fabrics, and how did the idea of making corsets come about?

Yes, I’ve worked for an interior design company for the last five years and in the evenings, I make clothes inspired by that. Also, yes, this is what led me to start making clothing out of vintage tapestries. The first thing I found was a 1950’s piano bench, which had this lovely violin needlepoint embroidered seat, surrounded by olive greens and florals. I made a miniskirt with a high leg slit, mostly because it’s a teeny tiny silhouette and I didn’t have much fabric to work with from the bench. Being limited in this way, the materials took me down this really sexy path as the garments had no choice but to be small. From that point on I just knew I wanted to cover the body with all of these fabrics that make up furniture.

“Corsets were something I fell into intuitively being that they are small, and they require a sturdy and heavy-duty fabric, which upholstery fabrics and tapestries really lend themselves to.”

And so I think corsets were something I fell into intuitively being that they are small, and they require a sturdy and heavy-duty fabric, which upholstery fabrics and tapestries really lend themselves to. After the violin needlepoint bench, I started to find some tapestries that hung on the walls behind frames at a local furniture thrift shop in Brooklyn, and the ones I found featured women wearing corsets, literally. I thought of bringing those scenes that were depicted on the tapestries to life.

Where do you get your materials from and are you looking for specific patterns when you’re sourcing them?

I am first and foremost obsessed with hunting furniture that people are looking to throw out, preferably vintage, preferably floral-patterned. Lately, I’ve been searching for old suitcases and luggage from around the 1960s that are covered in the most insane floral chenilles which I then use to make corsets and miniskirts. In a way, shoes are also kind of “upholstered”, too, and so I’ve gone off on a kind of tangent recently disassembling old ballet pointe shoes I’ve managed to get from professional dancers (they go through a pair per week!). My main source for finding things is online, through Craigslist’s New York City section, eBay, Etsy, and Live Auctioneers, if I’m looking for something really historical. Specific patterns I look after are mostly from the 18th century pastoral or courtship scenes as I adore the fairytale quality they carry. I love vintage and antique textiles where the pinks, greens, and blues are well preserved and not so faded, but, I must admit, these are harder to find… but how beautiful they are!

“I see a ridiculous amount of waste all around me in New York City and I can’t stand the idea of these beautiful things winding up in landfills. “

This process is very much rooted in recycling. I’m of course inspired by these incredible textiles, but the main thing that led me to them was seeing a waste problem that I hope to solve. I see a ridiculous amount of waste all around me in New York City and I can’t stand the idea of these beautiful things winding up in landfills. This is such a huge problem in the fashion industry, and my utmost priority as a designer.

“I see the corset as this ultimate caricature of femininity, and I am trying to give ownership of that back to women and make it fun and not so uptight… no pun intended!”

What’s your take on the corset’s controversial baggage, and why did you feel like bringing it back? How are you approaching them?

I would definitely say that I’ve simplified the corset and redefined it as something modern. Today I feel like the corset is more about accessorisation and adornment, not about antifeminist body-modification politics. The ones I make are playful and easy to wear, with plastic boning instead of metal. They’re meant to be a sturdy layering piece worn over an outfit, not a constricting undergarment.

Through corsets but also cropped tank tops with cut-out detailing and skirts, your work is targeted to anyone who identifies with femininity. How is that empowering, and what’s your version of modern femininity? Also, what place do corsets have in it?

My work kind of mocks gender roles — particularly the hyper-feminine — in a way that amplifies that absurdity and reclaims it. Even though my clothing has sexual appeal, it’s meant to appeal to the feminine eye, not the male gaze. I see the corset as this ultimate caricature of femininity, and I am trying to give ownership of that back to women and make it fun and not so uptight… no pun intended!

VEREDAS

With her label VEREDAS, the masters student in anthropology and CSM graduate Ana Andrade gets to meet and work among traditional artisans.

As a student in anthropology and fashion designer, what’s your take on the recent resurgence of interest in corsets?

Well, for one thing, I don’t think corsets ever really left fashion. They’ve always been around, we see them in lingerie and underwear, in designers’ seasonal collections such as seen in Vivienne Westwood’s. This systematic cycle of forgetting and remembering is just one of the discursive maneuvers our industry uses to constantly reinscribe value to things that never lost value in the first place, to then sell them again. Actually, that is done to traditional crafts a lot. In any case, there might be a few different reasons why that is happening to corsets today, and I think it has a lot to do with the fact that they are a big gender trope, and that gender politics are really in the spotlight. I think there is something about reclaiming and reinscribing those pieces into a new context.

“If we want to expand a tradition, it needs to be kept alive.

How do you go about approaching traditional artisans and proposing new applications to their craft, such as making corsets? Do they tend to be receptive to your ideas?

The essence of my work is incorporating different traditional crafts and textile techniques into experimental items of clothing, so I always start with the textile. When I meet artisans, I make sure I understand their craft and learn and experiment with some of it myself, and I also share everything I know in terms of research, skills, materials, etc. So we do a lot of explorations and experimentations together, and there is a lot of horizontal knowledge exchange going on. I must admit that sometimes there’s tension in the creative process. Not a bad one, though. Only that the ideas I come up with do get questioned from time to time, either because they didn’t think to take a new approach to their work or just haven’t thought of it. I’m careful not to fall into the path where the Western way of doing things is seen as better than the others, but, at the same time, when people depend financially on their craft, it’s worth looking at other audiences. Some artisans want to keep doing things as they always have, and that’s completely fine! But others, like Central Brazilian master artisan of grass-weaving Juão da Fibra, whom I asked to help me make the corset, want to explore other approaches. Both are necessary. If we want to expand a tradition, it needs to be kept alive. With VEREDAS my goal is to expand the applications of traditional crafts, not modify nor erase them.

How was it making a corset with Juão, and how did you come to a consensus design-wise?

Given the level of detail and labour of Juão’s embellishments and also the roughness of the braided grass he works with, we were limited in what we could do. Still, I wanted us to make something that would be a challenge, something else other than bags or baskets even though these would have been the more natural things to do. And so corsets just made a lot of sense because of their timelessness and simultaneous sturdiness and delicacy. When it came to making it, we bounced off each other with ideas and although some of the things I suggested couldn’t be realistically implemented in the corset’s design, we gave ourselves the freedom to explore and experiment. It has been dyed in a particular certain purple which couldn’t have been anticipated as the grass Juao works with reacts differently to colouration depending on how it’s grown, and ended up looking like a shell, like an armour.

Bea Brücker

While studying at Royal College of Art, Bea Brücker embarked on a journey to develop and grow sustainable textile biomaterials.

When and how did you start exploring growing fabrics? Can you tell us more about the fabrics you’ve come up with?

During my time at RCA, I came to question the fashion industry, my own practice, and got more than frustrated to work in an industry that systematically exploits people and the environment. This frustration almost brought me to the point of dropping out of my studies altogether. But then I started looking into design practices that lead to minimal waste and provide an alternative to fast-fashion production. I experienced growing materials from acetic acid bacteria and did a little work on plant roots. Now, I specialise mainly in algae.

“Corset fascinates me because over the centuries it repeatedly reshaped and changed the body. “

Experimenting with organisms changed my whole view on fashion and textiles and on our environment. My workplace became more and more filled with tools I built myself to work with biomaterials, and the sewing machine is rarely ever used. I’ve come up with a material that is fully compostable and even edible, that can be moulded, engraved, dyed and printed. Furthermore, no fresh water is needed to produce this material.

And so, what’s brought you to make corsets?

Corset fascinates me because over the centuries it repeatedly reshaped and changed the body. Depending on the era, different parts of the body were pressed into a specific shape because the popular proportions constantly changed. I often proceed the other way round in my work. I’m not so interested in shaping the body, but find it exciting to see how it behaves with biomaterials. Depending on the processing, the algae material can fit very closely to the body and partially adapt to its shape. It creates very sculptural pieces, too.

How does moulding corsets with algae work?

The moulds I used were designed through a digital design tool on Turing Patterns. With this digital tool, I was able to create new forms and patterns on an archetype and then make moulds based on them. With the help of these moulds I then shaped the algae material into a corset. Sometimes, this design process results in very sculptural outfits that have little to do with a classic corset. It can be challenging, but matching the algae material and the mould making so that the process works perfectly is very exciting to me. Through body heat and moisture, the material becomes more supple and adapts to the body and movement. In contrast to the traditional corset which is supposed to press the body into a certain shape, my corsets adapt to the body. Of course, they still stabilise through the strength of the material, but they’re made to fit the body. What’s more, the corsets created through Turing Patterns and biomaterials have the potential to involve the consumer in the creation process. It’s still a work in progress, but eventually, everyone will be able to playfully change their archetype as they wish.

António Castro

Once an intern at Maison Margiela and textile developer for John Alexander Skelton, António Castro hand-weaves textile from vintage garments to create tailored, distressed one-offs.

What sorts of garments do you usually do from your textiles, and what made you want to explore making corsets?

To some, this can be quite obvious, but at school, I became quite enlightened by the possibilities of draping in regard to textile development and wanted to explore what could be done with this technique. Through my designs, I’ve always done collages, and I’ve brought the same principle to draping. The foundation I come up with can then be layered with different textiles, textures, weights, etc. As for my interest in corsets, I’d say it’s linked to my obsession with Baroque art. What I find interesting with corsets is how they were once perceived as an object of control, and I wanted to subvert that. I didn’t want to create a garment to restrain or to hypersexualise the person wearing it. The handwoven fabrics I make for corsets are very crafty, bulky, and almost childish, and merging them onto bodices creates a weird mix of two different worlds. I am interested in sensualising craftsmanship, which is usually not seen through that lens.

“What I find interesting with corsets is how they were once perceived as an object of control, and I wanted to subvert that.”

How did you go about making your corsets?

I visited many archives to study baroque corsets and was given the chance to copy some of the patterns. I was absolutely fascinated by their construction and detailing. Yet, although I like clothes that are visually complex, I wanted them to be practical and relevant for today. And so I wasn’t so interested in laced corsets, and rather added a zip closure to mine so they would be easier to put on.

Can you tell us more about your upcycling process?

I developed my own hand-weaving technique in which I get to weave any sort of unwanted vintage garments such as shirts or skirts. In the weaving process, I try recycling the entirety of what I find, which includes the labels, buttons, and cuffs. The hand-woven pieces become the centerpiece of the corset, and the rest is completed with other deconstructed vintage garments like jeans or vintage suits. In my MA collection, for example, I made one corset out of old liturgical fabrics. After Vatican II, many of the fabrics that were once used to decorate churches lost their luster. I, though, wanted to give them a new context, and have chosen corsets as a medium.

Rhiannon Davies

A music artist and fashion designer, Rhiannon Davies explores her Celtic heritage with an equestrian twist. 

How does being a musician play into your design process?

Design for me is healing, really. It’s something I’ve always done to feel present. In my early days, I’d explore my creative side by singing in church, and dressing in my Sunday best. Picking out the perfect outfit was not even mandatory but something I craved for and have so for 20 years since. I like to show and tell. This brought me to do a BA in fashion design, and in 2018 I moved to Wales to conduct fashion research for my graduate collection. On one of my days out, I met a harp player in a church building within the National Museum of Wales who played me some beautiful lullabies taken from original Welsh manuscripts. As I looked at the textiles and art pieces in and around the museum I realised my fashion needed a soundtrack and I wanted to be the one to create it. I didn’t want to ignore the huge part of me that has allegiance with music. I feel like now I have an archive people can tap into and it makes sense to call it ‘what I do’, which is music and fashion.

“I wanted to put this saddleback on the human body by deconstructing pre-owned saddles and using their natural symmetrical curved forms to turn them into a bustier. “

Where does the inspiration for your collections come from, and what place do corsets have in them?

The concept behind my work has always been driven by a personal exploration into the origins of my name, Rhiannon — the Welsh goddess of horses recorded in the ancient Welsh Mabinogion. It has always been a curiosity of mine, with my parents working in the church and pastoral sector. My given name being inherently pagan, I was confused and had to look into it. With that religious upbringing I was open to the concept of ‘the goddess’ and explored the idea of perfectionism through making corsets. My versions of them exaggerate the hourglass figure as a playful take on how society worships this certain image of the body. I noted that this idea that humans need to be ‘perfect’ extends onto other wild forms of nature such as horses, with the saddle used in equestrianism as a form of control. With the goddess Rhiannon placing herself in affinity with horses and not in control, I wanted to put this saddleback on the human body by deconstructing pre-owned saddles and using their natural symmetrical curved forms to turn them into a bustier.

Tell us more about your design process? What made you think to turn saddles into corsets?

In the early stages of my final collection at CSM, my research was almost solely equestrian-based. I was looking at the many, many different combinations of horsetail braiding, dressage flower arranging, what bandages were found in the horse veterinary kit — all the craft within that world. Like in the female world historically, in equestrian, they style horses’ hair, they train them, they even give them human names. Generally pruning and perfecting ourselves and everything around us is something we will do until we pass away.

What’s more, due to the elitism in horse riding, saddles are often thrown away and can go for next to nothing when they are second hand. And so to fit the concept of horses/perfectionism/goddess, I thought utilising a horse saddle was the most authentic move and a believable textile response. I’ve never been much of an inventor when it comes to design, I usually take the role of a curator. The saddles I source are second-hand, from donation, or whatever I can find online. I order them in, clean them, polish them up with saddle soap and restore them as near perfect as I can. Then I take them apart and hand stitch back the pieces together into new forms on a mannequin. It’s fulfilling to know that the saddle accessories I make are completely zero waste, with all parts of the saddle utilised.

 

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