It makes sense. When the fear of uncertainty takes over, all you can do is try to gain back control. The majority of the soon-to-be industry freshers mentioned the word “scared” more than once. Scared to start a label, scared to wait for a job offer, scared to freelance, scared to “lose the pressure of the MA.” Notions that previous years’ students yearned to free themselves from, such as the stressful environment of peer-to-peer competition and making a collection are this year presented as “privileges”. That is new. Have we become addicted to the adrenaline of working ourselves into the ground? Has stress become our comfort zone?
The collections reflect this hovering state of unpredictability the designers seem to be in. Hanging tight to artistry, from reviving traditional Icelandic craftsmanship to using domestic craft methods, the 2024 cohort of graduates directly addresses the industry’s failure to take care of its makers and questions the future of textiles, couture, and fabrics in search of stability. Gracey Owusu-Aguemang grew her own regenerative cotton in Zambia. Taking advantage of the safety the MA offers when it comes to experimenting, she planted 170 seeds during her summer holidays in her backyard, had them overseen by a farmer gardener while she was back in London for the course, and harvested them on the first day of this year. Forward-thinking processes like this make one wonder: Can a designer be given the time to experiment with new ways of working once out in the industry? The lack of time, money, and opportunities keep creativity captive, and these young designers are well aware of that.
On one side, we see a group of fashion-makers translating deep concepts such as cultural identity, queerness, and feminism into garments. They are strictly working with ecological ways of making clothes and proudly accept all the hardships that come with them. They challenge industrial methods and design with zero-waste cutting techniques. They confidently question everyday-wear silhouettes and are eager to subvert long-standing couture methods. But then, when asked about the future, they turn humble, quiet, and self-contained. Some would call them pessimists. We would call them the kids of recession, Covid, the living crisis, and wars. “The only thing that excites me is eventually earning some money, so I can finally afford that Tesco finest hummus,” Slovenian designer Lovro Lukić panted with frankness. “That is of course, if I get employed, doing my own thing would probably lead to even more poverty. The only thing I fear is that the fast pace of fashion is going to make me end up hating it.”
This year we are celebrating 40 years of London Fashion Week. Four decades of fashion honouring glamour, illusions, self-expressions, raw creativity, and confidence. But systemic change is clearly not coming from what we have been celebrating all these years. Maybe change comes from designers who are in touch with reality, who don’t stop asking themselves about the point of their work, and who, no matter how much they have already sacrificed in the name of a career, aren’t scared to ask: “Is it worth it?” and “Can I do it differently?”