After several years, the BA Fashion program at CSM returned to an edited selection of collections for their press show, for the sake of a more digestible runway experience. This year’s designers who showcased their work demonstrated a strong ethnographic and geographic understanding of techniques and textiles. Many of them delved into their origins and tribes to source inspiration and materials, pushing their concepts towards an intensely tactile direction. Most of the designers talked about prioritising craftsmanship and reviving traditional fabric manipulations, aiming to merge the modern fashion of big capitals with the local artisans who inspired their work. Interestingly, the expectations these young designers have for their work and themselves are at the level of skilled couture workers and at the budget of a high fashion brand. Plenty of them noted the emotional struggle of realising they don’t have these means and navigated this problem through upcycling or asking local communities for help, from their family to their church’s senior club.
The perks of community-driven processes that young designers smile about when asked about their fashion school experience come into contradiction with the strictness and loneliness with which they talk about their future. Graduate Patrick Garvey reflected on “how disposable you can feel in a saturated industry,” while his peer Samuel Friberg blamed the sector’s attractiveness for making everyone “so replaceable.” Systemic obstacles were a big part of the conversation. Ella Douglas sees the possibility of being able to rent and live in London after graduating as her definition of success. Her classmate Leo Bursey, who thinks that his inability to afford an internship year puts him at a disadvantage compared to his peers, highlights that “interning is the main key to securing a minimum wage job in fashion, and this is blocking anyone without 10k+ spare in their parents’ bank account.” These valid concerns contribute to what Riley Walmsley described as a fear to commit to a direction post-university. Thoughts along the lines of “I wouldn’t want to be part of this industry” come right after an existential pondering of “Am I meant to be here?” Detailed explanations of “industrialising” their schedule to produce professional-quality garments precede confessions of self-reflection: “I felt like an idiot, completely absorbed in my work.” But when we started assuming this attachment to work is a symptom of fashion’s bubble, many of the designers expressed the emotional friction of frivolity. Trying to put this feeling into words, Lulu Yang explained: “Fashion is losing its essence, its humanism, and is becoming pure image-making. It’s like beautiful dolls for the sake of beauty; a microcosm of a bygone era.”
So if fashion causes so much stress, inner doubt, disappointment, and scarcity, why did almost all graduates express a desire to do their own thing in it? If we all know this path is a journey of complicated problems and dilemmas, why do we keep feeding its glamourisation? “Fashion is the only thing in my life that has motivated me to leave my comfort zone,” Maja Hagen explained. The 2024 class of designers’ thoughts and views on their future are full of contradictions because fashion, as an art and as a business, is full of contradictions. Fashion is hard, but hardships keep them inspired. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t be fun,” one of the designers remarked as a learning. How could one unravel such a co-dependent bond? A young designer’s undeniable eagerness to continue pursuing learning and creativity is an inner need that the industry has formed into the step-by-step guide we call “emerging brands.” The question is whether this “guide” is serving the next generation of designers or if it is a passive choice they make, looking for confirmation that they are just like their idols.