Lots of likes but no cash: Can young avant-garde designers pay the rent?

STEPHANIE UHART

Did you always want to be a fashion designer?

Actually, at first, I thought I’d become an artist. But you know how everyone says it’s a difficult industry to make it in? So I figured fashion was a good middle ground—if for any reason my work wouldn’t find an audience, at least I could take a different turn and work for a company or something. I really wanted to go to CSM, and ended up applying three times before they let me in.

When did you know you would go on to explore unorthodox aesthetics?

What my body of work is currently informed by—the fluffy, cushiony entwining dresses—sort of all happened during the pandemic. Back then I just found myself at home and, like everyone, I had to do my BA collection quarantined in my flat. Now it may sound cliché, but I was meditating a lot and used my practice as a way to translate the way my body felt inside: all over the place emotionally. I’ve let this feeling shape and lead the designs as a representation of the emotional baggage we carry around with us.

“Given how the dresses I make are flamboyant and extravagant and not necessarily suited for the every day, it can be challenging to actually sell them.”

What was the reception from your peers and people online for this particular style?

Obviously, I didn’t get to show it to the class as I normally would have if it wasn’t of lockdown, but then when people from the industry started reaching for photoshoots, I realised that I was on to something. The first shoot I’ve done was AnOther’s A Celebration of Emerging Designers editorial, and I don’t think I’ve ever been that excited in my life. They were so supportive and guided me through the whole process of presenting my work, such as finding names for the looks etc. I think that changed things for me. As a designer, you sort of need someone in an influential position to be like: “Hey, check this out”.

The aesthetic you’ve brought forth sort of put you on the creative side of the industry. How’s that been?

True, it lent itself to editorials. Artistic-wise, it’s amazing. But given how the dresses are flamboyant and extravagant and not necessarily suited for the every day, it can be challenging to actually sell them.

“As designers, we get exposure and publicity from shoots, but that doesn’t pay. And so as much as I love what I do, I have to find an area that brings money because now it isn’t really financially feasible.”

How do you deal with that?

Well, it’s extremely challenging. The support from some stylists, editors, and photographers have been incredibly helpful. As designers, we get exposure and publicity from shoots, but that doesn’t pay. And so as much as I love what I do, I have to find an area that brings money because now it isn’t really financially feasible. Hence why I’ve just released a capsule collection of more wearable pieces that are basically toned-down versions of the fluffy dress. Other than that, I might one day end up doing straight-up art, which is what I wanted to do from the beginning. I’ve done a few sculptural wall pieces in the past and that went well. Making furniture could be really fun, too. It’s just that now I find myself in a weird space between art and fashion where it’s actually neither. It’s like, no one is going to buy one of my dresses to put it in their living room…

Yet is this what you were hoping for in the first place: to have the liberty and freedom to create what you want?

Yes. That’s always been a very important part and bit for me. I wouldn’t want to find myself in a position where I’d be obliged to do things a certain way, just “because that’s how things work”. I have fellow designer friends who are stocked in shops that sort of end up having a say on their creative direction. To an extent, that’s great. But as designers, finding the balance between making a living and keeping our integrity can be quite a challenge. If it was just about the money I could have just gone working in an office. It has to remain stimulating and exciting creatively speaking.

Has Instagram been helpful in promoting your work?

I mean, it definitely helped a lot. It’s not so much about how many followers you’ve got but more so about who follows you. If there are editors and stylists who keep track of your work it might eventually fit the project they’re working on. Practically everything I’ve done was through Instagram. If it wasn’t for that, the projects I’ve worked on probably wouldn’t have happened otherwise. It’s a whole network of contacts.

HARI KRISHNAN

How has your background influenced your body of work? 

From where I’m from, Kerala, south India, clothing isn’t a means to express oneself, and so growing up I wasn’t exposed to fashion as we know it. Back home people mostly wear white cotton shirts. It’s very formal. But at some point in my upbringing, I saw a Hindu modelling for Versace in some magazine and that’s when I thought I, too, could make it in that industry. I started modelling myself but quickly realised that wasn’t for me. I wasn’t particularly photogenic, let’s put it that way. Acknowledging that, I got into bodybuilding instead and practised it for six years before recommitting myself yet again to another practice: fashion design. Whereas for years my body was my canvas, clothing became my medium of choice.

How did the transition from being a bodybuilder to becoming a fashion designer go?

So I quit bodybuilding to study fashion in India, but as you can imagine, the approach to design I was taught was very technical. In fashion, India is known for producing garments, not designing them. Whereas in some countries, say the UK, students are asked to be creative and create their own vision, in India you’re taught to follow a system. It was only when I started my MA at the London College of Fashion that I really started to dig into the history of fashion and studied all the great designers, whether that be Margiela or Balenciaga. What caught my mind was the individually unique proportions they became known for. Having this bodybuilding background, I’m naturally drawn to forms and shapes and silhouettes, and so this is what I’ve always aimed for as a designer: to create my own signature proportions.

How would you describe your proportions then?

In the same way that you can take mass by weightlifting and then lose it when on a break, the latex trousers I created inflate and deflate as a play on bodybuilding and the way the human body can go from one shape to another. The reason why the proportions are so exaggerated is because they were designed and shaped in reference to my dog’s point of view, and how he must see humans as giant beings.

“I’ve spent most of my life in a place where people buy only what is necessary. And so sometimes, looking at the clothes that I make, I’m thinking, who’s going to wear them?”

How was the reception for these looks?

It’s been amazing and something I haven’t expected. When you make a collection you don’t necessarily think of the reception it’ll get. Since I presented my work two years ago I met people I never thought I’d meet. The best bit has been working with photographers and stylists I was looking up to.

“I’m looking into doing ready-to-wear so as to widen my offering and make it more wearable.”

Given the artistic value of your work and the place it occupies in the industry, have you encountered any particular challenge?

There have been many challenges along the way, yes. The main one is that I’m never fully comfortable or confident enough with my work. This might be because I’ve been brought up in a culture where clothing is seen as a practicality, not a means of self-expression. I’ve spent most of my life in a place where people buy only what is necessary. And so sometimes, looking at the clothes that I make, I’m thinking, who’s going to wear them?

Do you have any tricks to tone this voice down?

Out of curiosity, I’ve been doing follow-ups with clients to check with them why they bought a piece of mine in the first place. In a way that helped me realise that this creative path I’m on can be financially feasible if it’s marketed in the right place for the right audience. The consumer base interested in my work is varied: there’s a community of people into inflatables and latex; some buy a piece for a special occasion, and there are collectors as well. Apart from this, I’m looking into doing ready-to-wear so as to widen my offering and make it more wearable, if I may.

“My graduate collection got so much exposure on Instagram and instantly I was known as the designer who makes inflatable garments.”

How has Instagram helped you? 

I mean, to be honest, I’m where I am because of Instagram. It’s as if it opened the gates for designers who probably wouldn’t have been noticed in the pre-internet era. That said, at the same time, it can harm the very motive behind a designer’s process. I believe that way back before social media graduate designers had a few seasons to form and establish their aesthetic, whereas for me my graduate collection got so much exposure and instantly I was known as the designer who makes inflatable garments. This is true, but it’s hard not to wonder whether likes just end up leading the designers’ creative processes.

“It’s not so much about the cut anymore, but more about the content.”

Do you feel pressure to create a “hit moment”? 

Oh yes, all the time. I think the fashion industry nowadays is 80% about marketing. There was a time when it was a niche subculture, but now it’s everywhere, in food, music, and sports. Corporates know what leverage fashion has and they try to monetise it. This can give great opportunities to designers, but at the same time, it’s getting to a point where it’s overexposure. It’s not so much about the cut anymore, but more about the content.

How do you juggle it all?

On a single day, I may feel good about my work, only to feel bad about it a minute later. But I try not to let this get to me. The pandemic was actually a good test for me, and I’m sure for many other graduates, in the sense that, overnight, I had lost most opportunities—the editorials, the requests from stockists, etc—that were presented to me after graduating. That made me realise that this industry isn’t about money or technicalities or creativity; it’s about being emotionally stable and consistent.

MATHILDE SCHAUB

Are there any other artistic scenes informing your designs?

Through a fashion lens, I like to explore the worlds of sculpture, video and photography as mediums to explore the human body in weird, unorthodox ways. Like most avant-garde designers, I combine fashion and art together.

“Whereas other creative scenes bring up sculptures or pieces that can be put around the home, people just won’t buy artistic-led clothes to let them in their wardrobe.”

Did you always know you’d take a more artistic approach to fashion?

Like everyone who goes on to study fashion design, I’ve made shirts and pants and garments of all sorts, but I always wanted to push it further and explore different silhouettes. The works of designers such as Hussein Chalayan, Alexander McQueen and Rei Kawakubo is what drives me. It’s always been natural and important to me to be innovative in my approach and attuned to my instinct. The things I create reflect on what makes me me, whether it’s past experiences, personal taste, joys and discontents, dreams I had, anxieties that keep me up at night, etc. It’s as if my psyche was taking shape. I deeply believe in fashion’s capacity to share emotionally intelligent storytelling just as any other art forms do. Through the sculptural clothing I make, I want to represent the human experience and bring a social dimension that will induce a conversation.

What were the first show pieces you presented to the public?

It was for CSM’s White show. At the time it just clicked for me. I was just coming out of a prep year where I learned about sculpture, and after doing some research with the performative dancer George Labatt in France, we’ve basically practised combining two bodies together. When I started doing sketchbooks, my tutors were telling me to not pursue this idea for the sake of safety. But in the end, there was a way to make it work. There was basically someone hanging upside-down with their legs laying on the shoulders of the person who stood up. The person being carried had to be significantly short to make it safe.

“It’s as if fashion still isn’t perceived as art, but it really can be.”

Given the nature of your work, how confident are you in your ability to make money and keep prospering?

That’s what I wonder every day. What I make isn’t something that you can easily commercialise. Sometimes I’m really positive and kind of know where I’m heading, and then I’m like, “No, that won’t work.” I have, though, been given opportunities from the Beaux-Arts museum in Paris, where I held performances and expositions. But I definitely am trying to figure out where my place is in the industry. To me, and I’m sure to many others, the frontier between fashion and art isn’t clear—it’s quite fragile and difficult to understand, actually. Whereas other creative scenes bring up sculptures or pieces that can be put around the home, people just won’t buy artistic-led clothes to let them in their wardrobe. Eventually, I suppose I could be selling to collectors and museums, but I’m not there yet. It’s as if fashion still isn’t perceived as art, but it really can be.

BRADLEY SHARPE

Before picking fashion design as your chosen medium, have you considered pursuing any other creative scenes?

Before I made the choice to pursue fashion design, I was studying graphic design, but that wasn’t for me. Initially, though, I thought I’d go on to become an architect. And so looking at my work now, I can sort of making a parallel to that, in the sense that I aim to create precisely constructed, quiet architectural silhouettes.

“For some time, I wasn’t even aware of what ready-to-wear was. I just knew about the big costumes and the grandeur of show-pieces.”

Was it always clear in the back of your mind that you’d create unorthodox pieces?

Well, I grew up in a quiet suburban village in the countryside of Nottingham, and when I was a kid the internet wasn’t much of a thing yet. I remember digging into books covering the kings and queens of fashion, from Christian Dior to John Galliano. For some time, I wasn’t even aware of what ready-to-wear was. I just knew about the big costumes and the grandeur of show-pieces. Ever since I’ve been into fashion, I’ve always wanted to create my own big, bold silhouettes. From the get-go my biggest inspiration was Balenciaga and, in my own way, I try to have the same contemporary approach to design he had in his time, but in today’s context.

Right, you haven’t replicated what Balenciaga was doing, but instead adapted his approach to your own taste. I’m thinking of the tent-like dress, which I’m pretty sure was unseen before…

Exactly. I came up with the tent dress whilst I was doing my graduate project. At the time I was looking into 18th-century courtroom dresses, and I really wanted to create my own, but a new and different one, with a modern take on it. My process is quite instinctive, and one day I was walking past a charity shop which had a tent exposed in the front window. It just clicked for me. Another thing I’m inspired by in Balenciaga’s legacy is how he was sustainable in his process, in the sense that often he would drape instead of pattern making and cutting so as to minimise seams and thus fabric waste. That’s something I’ve taken from his work. For example, in my last collection, I made this huge train gown which had only one seam at the back and absolutely no waist whatsoever. I’m sure you’re familiar with Balenciaga’s original single-seam wedding dress. I took direct inspiration from that and made it more obscure as this is the aesthetic I usually go for. It was a lot of work and manipulation around the body, but in the end, you have something that’s so refined and stunning.

“I can go a week without having any customer orders, only to have someone reaching out on a Friday, requesting a dress that needs to be made in a few days for some gala.”

Do you get to do a lot of trial and error then?

Yes, one hundred per cent. The one thing about me and the way I start making a collection is that I actually don’t rely on an abundance of research. My approach to making a collection is by draping with the fabric on the body and mannequins. It’s quite a cathartic process. However, if I do refer to visuals or research, it’s always historical. That’s because I like this idea of adapting something that’s been done in the past with the technology we now have access to. The 18th century had such grandeur to it. There were so many layers to the looks back then.

Since you’ve taken the artistic route, what does your average day look like?

Whereas, usually, designers eventually get their collections stocked in stores, obviously for me it’s been different in that you can’t just buy my clothes off the shelves. To me, it’s important to have clients over at my studio and do fittings with them, just like a salon. I want people to have a gown specifically made for them. Now in terms of gigging opportunities, I have this kind of client base thing, but besides that, it has a lot to do with word of mouth. I’ve worked with VIP clients for music videos, galas and things like that. In the near future, I might be working with resellers as I think it’s quite an interesting way to develop a brand and body of work. There are a few retailers online now that stock avant-garde designers and sell on a made-to-order basis.

“My place in the industry is in this showpiece cloud. I like being here.”

Is creating pieces for editorials and creative projects financially enough to keep you going? Do you feel confident to keep prospering?

I will keep on making avant-garde pieces as there’s definitely money in there. But will it be enough? Who knows. It’s self-sufficient now, but I wouldn’t say it’s the most stable business plan. I can go a week without having any customer orders, only to have someone reaching out on a Friday, requesting a dress that needs to be made in a few days for some gala. It’s a different business model altogether—you’re basically planning for the unexpected. There’s definitely a long way to go, but I think as long as I keep on building my body of work and putting new things out there, my business will keep on growing. My place in the industry is in this showpiece cloud. I like being here.

How has Instagram been helpful to you? Have there been any bad sides to it?

The thing with Instagram is that you can very easily become consumed by it. There’s a tremendous amount of clout on it and the pressure of having to release your work as soon as possible and sharing work-on-progress steps for the sake of creating engagement and getting a reaction out of people. As we all know it can be a force, but I also think it can quite negatively turn into a vanity thing as opposed to releasing a design after you had a minute or a few months to think it through and make it properly. But, you know, Instagram is a great tool to promote work, mostly for emerging designers who deal with every aspect of their business, including PR.

“I think it’s much easier for designers who make avant-garde pieces to scale down than it is for those who make ready-to-wear to scale up and bring a coutureness to their work.”

I’m sure that your most creative pieces generate the most traffic online. Could you take that as a way to promote your work in general and perhaps offer more wearable pieces for followers to buy?

Well, for instance, I’ve just done a diffusion line with Charles Jeffrey so we did these wearable pieces that are now stocked on his website. I think it’s much easier for designers who make avant-garde pieces to scale down than it is for those who make ready-to-wear to scale up and bring a coutureness to their work.

“I’d suggest to emerging avant-garde designers to have a side hustle or a part-time job to bring in money for themselves when they kick-off.”

Do you have any advice for anyone who’d like to pursue this path?

I’d suggest to emerging avant-garde designers to have a side hustle or a part-time job to bring in money for themselves when they kick-off. Because obviously, we all want a self-sufficient business, one that runs itself. But in the beginning, all the money made goes back into the business. When I graduated I got myself into such a mess because I thought that things would take off immediately and I quickly realised that, actually, I had to be patient.