Designers of the future might be part scientist, part engineer

Material Futures: a context-driven course

For those unfamiliar, MA Material Futures sits in an unusual corner of the design school. “We accept students from very different backgrounds,” explains course director Mael Henaff. “Some come from fashion or textiles, but others arrive from architecture, law, or science. The point is not to reinforce one discipline, but to build new contexts where design can ask bigger questions.”

Students cycle through three briefs in their first year, often set with industry partners. The emphasis, Mael stresses, is never just on producing novel materials: “It’s about who has access to technologies, how they’re used, and what systems they operate in. We want projects that make sense for the wearer – but also, in a cheesy way, for the planet.”

Some projects lean toward speculation, others toward immediate function. In either case, students are asked to ground their ideas in technologies available now, while stretching them toward futures we might want – or want to avoid.

A collaboration with stakes

The brief given to students was open: imagine new materials or systems for outerwear that could perform in extreme environments while reducing environmental impact. “What was good with Canada Goose,” says Mael, “is that they were extremely open. They didn’t shy away from asking what’s problematic in how materials are currently sourced or used.”

Ten student teams proposed concepts, ranging from degradable mountaineering equipment to gecko-inspired fastenings that replace noisy Velcro. The goal was not only to generate ideas, but to place them in realistic contexts: how would a climber on Everest use this? What happens to the garment at the end of its life?

For Punxh, the starting point was more personal. Walking to campus in a heavy coat one winter, he found himself sweating, only to be freezing minutes later in the library, having taken off the extra layers. “I thought: our bodies already generate heat. What if we could harness the heat we lose and conduct it back into clothing?” he says. The notion of a jacket that could ‘harness’ heat became the seed of the project.

From garlic peel to bio composite

A workshop with Carole Collet (Professor in Design for Sustainable Futures at CSM) on regenerative design nudged the team away from purely technological coatings and toward biomaterials. They began combing scientific literature, where an obscure paper on garlic as insulation for architecture caught their attention.

At first, they experimented broadly: onions, orange peels, anything that might hold hidden properties. Garlic peels stood out. Unlike most organic waste, they resisted burning. “That made us wonder what was inside them,” Rilya says.

The answer lay in garlic peels acting as a natural sponge, their porous structure allowing them to absorb and retain wax throughout their surface. When infused with wax – like beeswax, soy, coconut – the composite functions as a phase‑change material (PCM): the wax absorbs and releases heat during temperature fluctuations, while the peels provide structural support and increase the surface area for heat exchange. This synergy makes garlic peels an effective “housing matrix” for wax, enhancing both absorption and thermal performance.

The process was slow and stubborn. Without access to industrial equipment, they improvised: ovens, small-scale labs, endless trial and error. “My flat smelled like garlic for months,” Rilya laughs. “I’d open the oven and wonder if it was working yet.” Moisture made the bio composite brittle; bonding it to fabrics was another hurdle. But eventually, a workable sample emerged.

Science into fashion

Turning material experiments into a garment required another leap. Partnering with MA Fashion students, the team mapped the body’s thermal zones – chest, belly, arms – where heat is most actively generated. They then applied the garlic-based bio composite in strategic zones, experimenting with weaving, piping, screen printing, and trims.

Canada Goose’s expertise gave the work sharper edges. Insights from explorer Ben Saunders, who has trekked the Antarctic in the brand’s gear, framed the stakes: performance outerwear is not just aesthetic, but sometimes a matter of survival. “It made us think like scientists and engineers as well as designers,” Rilya says. “How to balance warmth, flexibility, and visual appeal.”

Lessons in scalability

The collaboration forced students to confront questions that academic projects often bypass: scalability, supply chains, cost. At a midterm presentation, Canada Goose asked bluntly: could this material be produced at scale? Would restaurants provide enough waste? Could farmers grow garlic as a side crop, offering both insulation and pest resistance benefits?

For Punxh, the challenge was both sobering and inspiring. “Normally in the lab, you think only of experiments. Here we had to imagine an ecosystem: farmers, brands, consumers. Could garlic waste become not just a material, but a regenerative system that gives back to nature and people?”

The reflection was as much about economics as ecology. Rethinking garlic peels not as waste but as a resource opened up new models for circularity – an idea they hope brands might someday take further.

Beyond materials, the project reshaped both graduates’ practices. For Rilya, it was the first time she had read scientific papers or worked in a lab. “I realised fashion can build entire ecosystems out of everyday objects. Garlic became not just food, but textile, packaging, energy. That expanded my whole perspective.”

For Punxh, the experience rekindled his sense of purpose at a moment of doubt. “I almost gave up on the course that term. But working on this project showed me how design can bridge disciplines, how crazy ideas can find space in a lab. It gave me the confidence to keep going.”

Both have since carried those lessons forward: Punxh is developing mushroom-based regenerative inks, while Rilya is merging technology and jewellery into therapeutic accessories that respond to human touch.

The future of hybrid designers

For Mael, the project is emblematic of what Material Futures does best: connecting dots between speculative research, industry realities, and broader systems. “There are so many labs out there doing important work without funding or an audience. Our students are brilliant at contextualising that research, showing how it might benefit communities or ecosystems. That bridge is essential.”

The industry, meanwhile, is inching toward more openness. Algae leathers, orange-peel textiles, mycelium foams – brands from Stella McCartney to Adidas have experimented with alternatives. But what projects like the Heat Harnessed underline is the need for hybrid thinkers, fluent in science, design, and ethics. As Rilya puts it: “Fashion needs more people who can think as designers, scientists, and engineers at once. Collaborations like this show us how to turn academic research into real products. That’s crucial if fashion is to become more sustainable.”

In the end, Heat Harnessed may never hit the shelves. But its value lies in what it represents: a shift in how we think about waste, about materials, about who gets to innovate. Garlic peels, overlooked in kitchens, became the basis for a textile that might one day regulate human warmth in extreme conditions. The project’s story mirrors the ethos of Material Futures itself: start with what’s ordinary, and ask extraordinary questions of it. In doing so, you not only create new materials – you create new ways of thinking about fashion’s role in the world.

You can discover the jacket and materials in the Canada Goose store, 244 Regent Street, from the 18th of September.

Lead photograph by Yu Hamana and Benjamin Simpson