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	<title>The Fashion Studies Journal</title>
	<link>https://fashionstudiesjournal.com</link>
	<description>The Fashion Studies Journal</description>
	<pubDate>Sat, 22 Nov 2025 03:06:12 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>MAFS letter from the editors</title>
				
		<link>https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/MAFS-letter-from-the-editors</link>

		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 2025 20:23:25 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>The Fashion Studies Journal</dc:creator>

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Special issue in collaboration with students in the MA Fashion Studies program at Parsons School of Design


	TABLE OF CONTENTSLetter from the Editors
By The MAFS guest editor team
What Makes a Fashion Scholar? Disciplinary Identity and Methodological Purity in Fashion Studies&#38;nbsp;By Julie Gork and Alla Eizenberg

Fashion Sustainability, Then and Now: A 15-Year Conversation
By Sara Idacavage and Lauren Downing Peters



















Thinking Through Fashion Practically
By Aude Fellay
Ruth E. Carter’s Sankofa Approach to Costume Design: Gratitude for 15 Years of Afro-Historicism and Afro-Futurism in Fashion and Film
By Cydni Robertson
Reflect Reflected Reflection
By Ines Simoes and Nuno Nogueira

Reclaiming Sartorial Narratives Beyond Colonial Frameworks
By Sarah Javaid and Sayed Meher Ali


The Eyes of Animals: Mirror Embroidery’s Narrative Threads
By Claire Sigal
Unwearable “White Shirt”: An Auto-Critique of Critical Fashion with Walter Benjamin
By Muyo Park
Sustainable By Design: The Role of Indigenous Craft in Shaping a Resilient Future
By Muhammad Umer Rehman

Fast Tatreez: Machine-Embroidered Palestinian Dresses and Reflections on the Ethics of Fashion in Exile
By Wafa Ghnaim

Art After the Revolution: Haitian Legacies in Contemporary Practice
By Siobhan Meï and Jonathan Michael Square
	Hello FSJ readers!
2025 marks the 15-year anniversary of the MA Fashion Studies Program at Parsons School of Design. For 15 years, students and faculty have lent their voices to fashion studies research and ridden the wave of the cultural evolutions that have transpired in this burgeoning field of study. Traditionally, crystal is used to acknowledge 15-year anniversaries, and just as a crystal reflects a kaleidoscope of colors and evokes a myriad of possibilities, we sought to illuminate the works of those who continue to shape this field through a special issue of the Fashion Studies Journal, entitled “Reflections.” 

We invited scholars and creatives to reflect on the field of fashion studies from a multifaceted approach, embracing crystalline qualities in their works. As we might have anticipated, authors spotlighted multiple facets of the field resulting in an issue that spans the globe and decades. Authors shared about developments in the fashion industry and how the field has evolved. Alumni reflected on the evolution of their work since attending The New School and presented their ongoing work on the subject. The legacy of a costume designer is highlighted and the evolution of indigenous crafts is reflected upon. 

Over the course of 15 years, trends have come and gone, and come again. Fast fashion has given rise to rapid consumerism. Luxury fashion has undergone greater scrutiny, while secondhand and vintage markets have become media darlings. Social media platforms and influencers have undoubtedly impacted the collective zeitgeist surrounding style. While romanticism and commercialization of fashion are default stances for many, perhaps skepticism—and reflection—have never been more important. 

Fashion’s manifestations are tethered to times, places, languages, memories and peoples. We became fascinated by what it meant to study fashion in the past, and what does the study of fashion mean for the future? In this way, we dissolve the boundaries of past, present and future and invite both nostalgia and progress into the conversation. We invite you to reflect with us and to view each authors’ piece as a facet of this evolving field.

Ed. Note from FSJ:FSJ: The Fashion Studies Journal was founded in 2012 by five students in the Fashion Studies MA program at Parsons. The initial purpose of the journal was to give graduate students a place to get their feet wet in academic publishing as well as to make connections between early-career scholars from around the world.
 This many years later, the journal continues as an independent publishing outlet for anyone who wants to think and write about fashion in a curious, critical way, but our ethos of inclusivity and providing opportunity for fledgling scholars remains.

Welcoming a team of students from this year’s MAFS cohort to guest edit an issue was a way to honor the journal’s roots in the Parsons community and to pass along what we believe FSJ has always stood for, which is a spirit of radical can-do creativity and an enthusiasm for building community through collaboration, particularly for people entering what can be an intimidating field.&#38;nbsp;
Kudos to the team for putting together a beautiful, expansive issue that reflects not only what fashion studies looks like in 2025 but how it has grown and changed, as well as how it can continue to push conversations forward across disciplines. You’re always welcome at FSJ!


	

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Image By Fangchi Liu.

	
	The guest editorial team from Parsons was: Kayla Mutchler, Dylan Howell, Gillian Arthur, Marissa Scharlau, Chris Ziebert, Wiktoria Gawor, Catherine Gerdes, Courtney Broadnax, Olivia Kulin, Ella Franch, Claudia Sànchez San Miguel, and Hannah McIntyre
Graphic design by Gillian Arthur and Claudia Sànchez San Miguel.
Social media design by Olivia Kulin.
Illustrations by Fangchi Liu.
	
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		<title>What Makes a Scholar</title>
				
		<link>https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/What-Makes-a-Scholar</link>

		<pubDate>Sat, 22 Nov 2025 02:24:31 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>The Fashion Studies Journal</dc:creator>

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Dr Julie Gork is a Lecturer in the School of Fashion and Textiles at RMIT University. She holds a PhD (Fashion &#38;amp; Textiles) from RMIT University and an MA (Fashion Studies) from Parsons School of Design. Her research interests include fashion theory, sensory knowledge, and fashion diversity, including disability.Alla Eizenberg is a Part-Time Assistant Professor in the School of Fashion, Parsons School of Design, New York and a PhD candidate in the Department of Design, Aalto University, Espoo. Her research focuses on the everyday aesthetics and the use of dirt in luxury fashion commodities.


	The 15th anniversary of Parsons’ Fashion Studies graduate program (MAFS) marks a significant moment in the institutionalization of fashion as an academic field. It is an opportunity to honor the vision and dedication of the founding scholars who established fashion as a legitimate field of study and to share some of the current concerns that continue to haunt and shape the field. The early writing on fashion was grounded in a variety of traditional academic disciplines that provided clear theoretical frameworks and methodologies, including sociology, anthropology, philosophy, art history, material culture, and cultural studies, among others. However, as fashion studies emerges as a field in its own right, the hybridity of research methods that was invaluable for the development of the innovative and critical approaches necessary to legitimize fashion as a subject of study also poses challenges to the academic rigor of the field.

At this moment, fashion studies faces existential questions: Does its strength in multi-methodological approaches undermine academic legitimacy? And does its ability to draw from many disciplines and fields raise fundamental questions about disciplinary identity? As graduates of the MAFS program who have pursued doctoral studies, we consider this anniversary a fitting moment to examine some of these questions and to join other scholars reflecting on the state of the field. [1] But unlike scholars who entered fashion studies from traditional academic disciplines, we write from the standpoint of the first generation of scholars trained specifically in fashion studies, equipped with its interdisciplinary toolkit but lacking the methodological depth of traditional disciplines. This article draws from our experiences to consider how the varied research practices of fashion studies contribute to its interdisciplinary identity and, by extension, to our own identities as fashion studies scholars.

Discovering Fashion Studies 
We started our careers in the fashion industry, albeit on different continents, before discovering the growing field of fashion studies. Alla Eizenberg spent fifteen years as a practicing fashion designer, working in Italy, Israel, and France. In 2006 she founded Maison Rouge Homme, an upscale menswear brand, which she led as a creative director for seven years. During this time she was invited to teach fashion design, which sparked her interest in the academic study of fashion. Julie Gork worked for seven years as a fashion trend forecaster, gaining insight into the cultural phenomena of fashion. While she valued the creative and research aspects of the role, she also felt complicit in the consumption-driven imperatives of the industry. These industry backgrounds, which instigated our desire to critically examine the creative, social, cultural, and economic facets of fashion, illustrate just one of the ways in which people may arrive at the field. 

We met as members of the sixth cohort of MAFS at Parsons in 2015, marking our entry into fashion studies, and to academia in a more general sense. The foundation we acquired under our distinguished faculty, including Hazel Clark, Heike Jenss, Francesca Granata, and Christina Moon, among others, provided comprehensive knowledge of fashion studies' theoretical landscape, making us confident in pursuing an academic path. However, our subsequent doctoral studies revealed a critical gap: while we possessed a solid understanding of fashion theory, we lacked the methodological depth that scholars from established disciplines often bring to their fashion research. 

These methodological challenges became concrete during the development of our PhD methodologies, attempting to apply research methods without the disciplinary training traditionally associated with those approaches. Julie's qualitative research on the sensory experience of fashion and blindness raised questions about ethnographic competency. She wondered how to apply anthropological methods, like sensory ethnography, without formal anthropological training. As a result, she qualified the methodology as an ethnographic approach to qualitative research to acknowledge disciplinary traditions and definitions. Similarly, Alla encountered challenges when conducting research on designers’ incentives for referencing dirt in high-end fashion commodities. Lacking clear guidelines on qualitative interviews, and insufficient expertise with data analysis, she felt unprepared for the methodological rigor exercised by her peers educated in sociology. These encounters underline a broader challenge facing fashion studies programs, ultimately raising a question: how to prepare scholars who can engage critically with fashion while meeting the methodological standards expected in broader academic contexts.



	

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Illustration by Fangchi Liu

	
	Methodology Matters

According to Steiner Kvale, the original Greek meaning of the word method is “a route that leads to the goal.” [2] This definition highlights the importance of mastering a method as a foundational skill for achieving a goal, which in our case is rigorous and sound scholarly work. In many academic contexts—such as group discussions, conference applications, and peer-reviewed publications—the chosen research method signals scholarly identity. Within fashion studies, methodological diversity enables innovation in research design. Yet, as Marco Pedroni warns, "despite its strengths, interdisciplinarity poses challenges for fashion studies" due to potential fragmentation resulting from diverse theoretical and methodological demands. [3] So while interdisciplinary training enables innovative approaches to address the complexity of fashion research, it also invites scrutiny regarding methodological competency and scholarly authority, challenges familiar to other emerging interdisciplinary fields. 

Heike Jenss’ edited collection remains one of the most robust contributions to fashion research methods, featuring a wide range of theoretically sound and original studies. [4] However, a close examination reveals that contributors often draw upon disciplinary training in traditional fields, which lends credibility and depth to their analyses. This positioning reflects the value of interdisciplinary contributions made by scholars entering the field from elsewhere. For these scholars, it is a positionality that may create a feeling of being both "in" and "out" of fashion studies, as described by Ben Barry and Alison Matthews David. [5] Their experience of crossing academic boundaries contrasts sharply with our position as scholars who began our academic careers firmly "in" fashion studies. Where Barry and Matthews David describe the "privilege inherent in traversing academic boundaries," we encountered the challenge of defending our disciplinary legitimacy from within an interdisciplinary field that lacks clear methodological criteria. 

Our own doctoral experiences revealed that identifying as "fashion studies scholars" carried less academic weight than identification with established disciplines, highlighting the field's ongoing struggle for institutional recognition. What makes matters worse is a certain popularity of fashion as a research subject. In our respective PhD paths, we encountered peers from cultural studies, art history, design, and textile science who, while working on fashion-related topics, possessed training in established research traditions rooted in their home disciplines. More significantly, we met scholars from philosophy, sociology, and history who were producing fashion research while remaining largely unaware of fashion studies' theoretical contributions. This pattern suggests that fashion as a research subject is being claimed by multiple disciplines without necessarily acknowledging fashion studies as a legitimate field of expertise. This distinction is crucial. Scholars who arrive at fashion studies with established disciplinary training bring investigative credibility, while those trained specifically in fashion studies must justify their scholarly competence. So, we wonder if the legacy of fashion as a denigrated subject persists. Does a lack of cohesive research practices reinforce perceptions of fashion studies as a young academic field or a "frivolous academic child"? 

From the Periphery

Our experiences highlight both the possibilities and difficulties facing fashion studies as it continues to evolve as an academic field. We are confident that the answer lies neither in abandoning interdisciplinarity nor in the enforcement of a singular "fashion studies approach." For new fashion scholars, the density of interdisciplinary entanglements and possibilities of methods can be overwhelming, so we advocate for a stronger emphasis on methodological literacy within curricula. [6] This includes exposure to diverse research techniques and critical engagement with their appropriate application. Students should learn to assess their own methodological competencies and to recognize when collaboration is essential for constructing a rigorous and coherent research design. Collaborative frameworks can help address the challenges of interdisciplinary inquiry by pooling expertise across different research practices. Instead of placing the burden on individual scholars to master multiple methods independently, such frameworks promote shared methodological competence tailored to the complexities of fashion research.

Nearly a decade ago, Christopher Breward (2016) observed that the field of fashion studies thrived at the periphery with diverse approaches and methodologies to fuel its academic recognition. The questions we raise here reflect the growing pains of an academic field coming into its own. As fashion studies continues to mature, we must balance the vitality of its interdisciplinary foundations with the need for methodological clarity that commands academic respect. The future of the field lies in developing sophisticated, collaborative approaches that uphold both our intellectual heritage and our commitment to scholarly excellence.
Notes: What Makes a Fashion Scholar?[1] Marco Pedroni, "The Evolution of a Discipline: A Transformative Chapter in Fashion Studies," International Journal of Fashion Studies 12, no. 1 (2025): 3-16; Ben Barry and Alison Matthews David, "A Fashion Studies Manifesto: Toward an (Inter)disciplinary Field," Fashion Studies, special issue "State of the Field," 2, no. 1 (2023): 1-23; Christopher Breward, "Foreword," in Fashion Studies: Research Methods, Sites and Practices, ed. Heike Jenss (London and New York: Bloomsbury, 2016), xvii–xx; Heike Jenss, "Introduction. Locating Fashion Studies: Research Methods, Sites and Practices," in Fashion Studies: Research Methods, Sites and Practices, ed. Heike Jenss (London; New York: Bloomsbury, 2016), 1-18; Francesca Granata, "Fashion Studies In-Between: A Methodological Case Study and an Inquiry into the State of Fashion Studies," Fashion Theory 16, no. 1 (2012): 67-82.

[2] Carol Warren, "Qualitative interviewing," in Qualitative interviewing, eds. J. F. Gubrium and J. A. Holstein (SAGE Publications, 2001), 83-102.

[3] Pedroni, “The Evolution of a Discipline”, 9.

[4] Heike Jenss, ed, Fashion Studies: Research Methods, Sites and Practices, (London; New York: Bloomsbury, 2016).

[5] Barry and Matthews David, "A Fashion Studies Manifesto”.

[6]&#38;nbsp; Jenss, "Introduction. Locating Fashion Studies”, 11.

	
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		<title>Sustainability Conversation</title>
				
		<link>https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/Sustainability-Conversation</link>

		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 2025 20:41:16 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>The Fashion Studies Journal</dc:creator>

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Sara Idacavage, Ph.D., is Assistant Professor of Fashion Media at Southern Methodist University. In addition to historical and cultural scholarship, her research focuses on transforming fashion education through sustainable thinking.Lauren Downing Peters, Ph.D., is Associate Professor of Fashion Studies and Director of the Fashion Study Collection at Columbia College Chicago. Her research focuses on the history of plus-size fashion, the lived experience of fat sartorial embodiment, reconsidered histories of American fashion, and transformed and inclusive fashion pedagogies.




	When we began the MA Fashion Studies program at Parsons, sustainability was not yet central to our academic work. Today, it has become the driving force behind our practice. Over the past fifteen years, the term “sustainable fashion” has become both increasingly visible and frustratingly vague. While its rise in public discourse has signaled a broader cultural awareness, it has also been diluted by notions of “green growth.” Even with years of experience in this space, we continue to ask ourselves whether our teaching is making a tangible impact—especially in an industry, and an educational system, still anchored in growth, speed, and overproduction.
As graduates of the MA Fashion Studies program at Parsons (Lauren in 2012 and Sara in 2014) and longtime FSJ editors (Lauren co-founding the journal in 2011 and Sara joining the editorial team the following year), we’ve been inspired by how much the publication and community have grown over the years. This special issue—and the forthcoming release of our co-edited book, Teaching Fashion Studies: Pedagogy, Perspectives, Practice (projected to be released in 2026)—offered us an opportunity to pause and reflect on how our thinking has shifted and our pedagogy has evolved. The following dialogue, composed across time zones via a series of long text messages exchanged between France, Spain, and the United States, captures an ongoing conversation between friends and colleagues about the challenges and joys of teaching sustainability. In sharing it, we hope to underscore the value of peer dialogue and critical self-reflection in a field that often privileges productivity over pause and individualism over community.
&#38;nbsp;


 

	


	
	 Lauren&#38;nbsp;
These days, we’re both deeply involved in fashion sustainability as educators, but was it something you were thinking about (or even aware of) when you started the MAFS?


	Sara&#38;nbsp;
Not at all! When I first started at Parsons, I was still a bit of a fast fashion-addict who was just dazzled by the glamour of the industry and the allure of the museum world. I knew that I wanted to have some greater impact on the world of fashion, but I wasn’t yet aware of the extent of the issues that are present in the industry. How about you?&#38;nbsp; 

	

	
	Lauren
No. Definitely not. I think I only became aware of fashion sustainability in the Fashion Cultures class during the second semester of the MAFS. Mary Ping of Slow and Steady Wins the Race was a guest speaker and I found her sort of “winking” approach to slow fashion to be both refreshing and brilliant. I didn’t really get serious about fashion sustainability—specifically, as a personal pursuit—until I was doing my PhD. What about you? What was your “aha” moment…your villain origin story?

	Sara

I suppose my interest really came from working in museums and archives and pursuing fashion history academically. My thesis at Parsons was about the rise of American ready-to-wear, which made me want to learn more about how people obtained clothing before ready-made production.

The more I learned about the history of clothing consumption and became more attuned to the materiality of garments through archival research and a growing love of vintage, I began to question my own fashion choices and consumption habits. I wanted to understand how things got this way—not just accept the idea that “people want more stuff.” That ultimately led me to shift my teaching approaches and, eventually, pursue a PhD.

What made you get “serious” about it during your PhD? Had anything notable changed for you between then and when you first started the MAFS program? 
	

	
	Lauren
I think I got serious about sustainability&#38;nbsp; because of the “Sweden” of all of it. To provide our readers (Hello!) with some context, I moved to Sweden to pursue my doctorate at the Centre for Fashion Studies at Stockholm University. There, I quickly learned that fashion sustainability is very intrinsic to Swedish style. 

Everyone I met seemed to have small, tightly curated wardrobes filled with timeless, high-quality pieces, and many Swedish brands encouraged circularity by consigning gently used pieces alongside their new items. 

I guess, to put it simply, my time in Stockholm introduced me to a new way to relate to and consume fashion. In my efforts to fit in, I just started to shop more like a Swede, and as such I became increasingly versed in sustainability issues.

I also learned a lot from you during that period as we were both working pretty intensely on FSJ together—both through your writing and our regular meetings. I’m pretty sure it was you who introduced me to Dana Thomas’ Fashionopolis and Britt Wray’s Generation Dread, so thank you, friend!

Can you talk a little about how you got serious about fashion sustainability during your PhD? And how did your research eventually come to (re)shape your pedagogy?


	Sara
Pursuing a PhD only became a goal after I began rethinking how I was teaching fashion history and how it could be reframed through the lens of sustainability. By the end of 2019, I applied to a PhD program without a clear roadmap, since “fashion history with an emphasis on sustainability” wasn’t exactly a degree path—yet. A few months (and a global pandemic) later, I landed at the University of Georgia.

With no existing sustainable fashion courses at UGA, I got creative with electives and was particularly influenced by a class called “Sustainability and Education,” taken alongside K–12 science and social studies teachers. Ironically, stepping outside fashion helped me reimagine how to teach it. 

Designing a sustainable fashion syllabus as part of my comprehensive exams led me to teaching UGA’s first course on the subject in 2023, and my dissertation—on mail-order catalogs as an early form of “fast fashion”—was basically a long experiment in teaching history through a sustainability lens. I’m now bringing that work to life in my new(ish) role at SMU, which feels deeply rewarding.

What was your experience like starting a sustainable fashion class at your school, and how has it changed over time?
	

	
	Lauren
I’d say overall it was very fulfilling, and perhaps one of the most meaningful things I’ve done since joining the faculty at Columbia College Chicago in 2018. 

I developed the course in response to a call for new proposals for Columbia’s general education core. The idea was that this new suite of courses, taught by interdisciplinary faculty, would engage both the Columbia and wider Chicago communities.

In the short while that I’d lived in Chicago (this was in 2019), I had quickly come to appreciate just how robust the sustainable fashion community is there, from practitioners like Jaime Hayes of Production Mode to organizations like Chicago Fair Trade. I decided to develop a course that took students outside of the classroom to engage with this community. 

Like you, I took my students to a recycling center (horrifying!) and to sustainable boutiques (inspiring!), and tasked them with developing fashion sustainability initiatives within our own campus community, like clothing swaps and mending circles. 

We, of course, did a lot of this work together—co-designing our assignments and providing talk therapy to one another when the going got rough. I think it is notable that we were so intentional about doing this work in community with one another. Why was this so important to you?

	Sara
First, I have to give credit where it’s due! Plenty of fashion educators were laying the groundwork for sustainability in fashion long before I even started teaching. 
For example, there’s Kate Fletcher, who I know we both admire. She was publishing on sustainable fashion before I even really knew what the term meant. At Parsons, groundbreaking educators like my friend Timo Rissanen really shaped how I thought about this work. The list of people who did this work before us could go on and on… 

That said, as we know, much of this “early” work was happening in elite art schools or in European institutions. It’s only (relatively) more recently that sustainability started embedding itself into larger and more traditional programs in the U.S. 

Which brings me to your question about community. As we’ve written in FSJ before, academia is a precarious world in which I believe collaboration is entirely necessary. I never took a sustainability course in school, so I had a serious case of imposter syndrome when I first started teaching it. Plus, I was a recovering fast fashion addict with minimal sewing skills—who was I to talk? 

And let’s not forget the mental health side of this work. We’ve both been in that “valley of despair,” wondering if any of it even matters in the grand scheme of things. But knowing that you and many of my other passionate friends and colleagues were out there, trying things, really kept me going. Sometimes it’s just enough just to say, “Yep, I feel kind of hopeless too,” and not feel alone in that.

Which brings us to our book! I know we’re both so excited about this project because it offers exactly what we once needed: examples from innovative educators from diverse fields that show how sustainability can be taught with creativity and care. Can you talk about how it came to life and what you hope it will spark in our growing community?

	

	
	Lauren
Like you, I felt a bit of imposter syndrome when I began teaching my sustainability course, and while there were so many wonderful resources (books, films, podcasts, etc.) to share with students, there wasn’t really anyone out there talking about how to mobilize these ideas in the classroom outside of design techniques. I wasn’t content to just review sustainability concepts; I wanted to give my students meaningful tools to “do” fashion sustainability in their own lives. I also wanted to create spaces for them to feel a little less alone and a little more empowered.
In our work, we discussed how helpful it would be to develop some kind of fashion sustainability network to share ideas with other educators. We first tested this idea at the “De-Fashioning Education” symposium at the University of the Arts, Berlin in 2023. I think this workshop really was the catalyst for us to develop the book proposal with Bloomsbury.

We put out a CFP and received over 100 submissions (wonderful, but overwhelming!) that we whittled down to 60 concise chapters. It’s only just barely underway, but I’m so proud of the global reach of the volume and the clever and critical ways our contributors approach the subject of fashion sustainability. 
In terms of what I hope the book will spark in our community, most simply I just hope that it makes fashion sustainability attainable and actionable. If I’m thinking more ambitiously and expansively, I hope it will effect meaningful, systemic change in fashion education.

What about you? I’d also love to hear about how you’re doing right now. Is this project helping to pull you out of the valley of despair?


	Sara&#38;nbsp;
To be honest, I think I’ve already dipped in and out of the “valley of despair” a few times during this conversation—but that’s just how I am! 

But there is some real value in reflecting with you. A decade ago, I knew very little about sustainability, and now I’ve shared what I’ve learned with hundreds of students. That’s got to count for something, right? Even getting one student to pause before adding something to their Shein cart feels like a small win. 
Our book project has honestly helped me stay optimistic, in big part because it’s kept me connected to you and to others who actually want to share, collaborate, and connect on a personal level. Unfortunately, that can be a bit rare in academia, where things can feel siloed and competitive. 

So to bring it full circle, what do you think has really shifted since our Parsons days? Or, if you could time travel, what advice would you give your past self?

	

	
	Lauren

I think the biggest shift for me is that I now have a very, very strong desire for my work (teaching and research) to be more grounded. There was a long period where I associated rigor and value with inaccessible theory and academic jargon, but like you I’ve increasingly come to appreciate the small wins—such as hearing that a student had a conversation with a family member about their Amazon.com dependency, or that they are now reading fabric composition labels before making a purchase. I can only hope that these small behavior changes and shifts in perspective will reverberate outward into their work as fashion professionals.
I realize I started this dialogue so it’s only appropriate that you end it! Any final, final words for our community?

	Sara
I’m not sure my own words can fully capture what I want to express here, so I’ll just end with a quote from the Earth Logic Research Plan that continues to guide my work. In it, Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham write: “The area of work that matters most is the one which is actionable by you, in your context, today. Time is short. Every decision counts. It is incumbent upon all of us to take action within the conditions of our own lives, to find ways to bring a sense of urgency and responsibility into our daily decision-making processes.” [1] 

	

	
	

Notes: Fashion Sustainability, Then and Now[1] Kate Fletcher and Mathilda Tham, Earth Logic Action Research Plan (2019), 25.

 
	
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	<item>
		<title>Thinking Practically</title>
				
		<link>https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/Thinking-Practically</link>

		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 2025 21:01:17 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>The Fashion Studies Journal</dc:creator>

		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/Thinking-Practically</guid>

		<description>&#60;img width="7031" height="3531" width_o="7031" height_o="3531" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/4780d21339faeedc5901b9088031e76140cc0c5378a574d5af24e6fc0bed9a49/Banner_Aude-Fellay-.jpg" data-mid="240707930" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/4780d21339faeedc5901b9088031e76140cc0c5378a574d5af24e6fc0bed9a49/Banner_Aude-Fellay-.jpg" /&#62;

	
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Aude Fellay is a writer, researcher, and teacher. She coordinates and teaches theory courses in the MA program in Fashion, Jewellery, and Accessory Design at HEAD-Genève (HES-SO), where she is also engaged in practice-based research. Her writing explores contemporary fashion, image culture, and labor. Her work has been featured in publications such as Dune Journal, Issue Journal, and Revue Faire.



&#38;nbsp; 


	In her landmark book Fashion at The Edge, Spectacle, Modernity, and Deathliness, Caroline Evans gives weight to fashion design as a form of cultural analysis. [1] In a recent interview with Rosie Findlay about the publication, Evans acknowledges that the book’s method registers as a “sort of mimicry” or “perhaps an echo?” of fashion design’s own operations. [2] From my perspective, as a “theorist” [3] surrounded by practitioners, and in a perpetual struggle against the incessant infantilization of the practice, her writing conveys more than an echo of fashion design. Despite it being theory-heavy, it goes some way in narrowing the gap between theory and practice as institutional categories, by theoretically “testing” the methods of “creative” fashion design. [4] Put differently, it mobilizes fashion design methodologies, which it simultaneously helps to foreground, “assuming an equivalent between the historian and the designer.” [5] As such, the book—and her work more broadly—offers fashion design a form of legitimacy as a mode of inquiry and highlights its specificities in ways that do not reiterate false oppositions between the material and immaterial elements of fashion. What follows, then, is a very brief attempt to point out the significance of Evans’s work not simply as fashion history but as a resource for the further formalization of practice-based research in fashion at a moment when its stakes and formats are being outlined. I have set out to do this in the wake of having almost concluded a two-year long practice-based project at HEAD–Genève (HES-SO). Here—to borrow from the Virgil Abloh playbook—I am “postrationalizing” Evans’s contribution from the standpoint of that project and elaborating on the project itself to highlight ways we might “stay with the practice” as we transform it. 

	


	&#60;img width="9921" height="7016" width_o="9921" height_o="7016" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0e0d19d6428aaaa25f7e251083890c7172f8c155b90b07b6e9e4eb27bca5753e/Copy-of-1.jpeg" data-mid="241127904" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0e0d19d6428aaaa25f7e251083890c7172f8c155b90b07b6e9e4eb27bca5753e/Copy-of-1.jpeg" /&#62;The first edition of Fashion at The Edge. A second edition was released in 2023.


	
	The Wall
The hurdles fashion studies faced as it entered the academy have been well documented. [6] The obstacles facing fashion design as it follows the same path—some forty years after the fields of art, design, and architecture did—are even greater. [7] Firstly, practice-based research, regardless of the practice in question, still suffers from a lack of credibility. [8] Additionally, in the case of fashion, its academic field’s increased criticism of fashion design and the fashion industry more broadly have—and justly so—raised serious concerns about the practice itself. [9] This has resulted in both a permission to rethink how fashion is done and a steeper “wall of articulation” for fashion design as research. [9] In other words, the internal and external pressures of criticality and criticism have raised the bar “when it comes to proving [fashion design’s] activities and endeavors are worthwhile.” [10]
It is tempting, in this context, to salvage the practice of fashion design by repackaging it as art. As José Teunissen notes, fashion designers turned researchers have looked to “performances, installations, interventions, films and exhibitions…to replace the classic representations such as the catwalk, the fashion magazine and the fashion campaign,” valuing “the design process and the story above the artefact.” [11] Like Evans, I am uncomfortable with fashion’s strategic alignment with art, not least because, as she puts it, “fashion is plenty interesting enough.” [12] I do, however, understand its logic as a survival strategy for practitioners. In any case, clarifying the specificities of fashion’s practice, in its diverse contexts, is a worthwhile endeavor in light of both a growing interest in practice-based research and art’s more longstanding tradition of artistic research.&#38;nbsp; To this end, I find myself going back to Evans’ work for ways of thinking about fashion design that attend to fashion as a design practice with its own methods, formats, constraints, and contexts.

	


	&#60;img width="6556" height="4310" width_o="6556" height_o="4310" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/70fb9992de97185ab5e2c6e206227d97d02cefc11a697ea780b01247866cd9e9/Copy-of-2-Horizons-Glaise-.jpg" data-mid="241127913" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/70fb9992de97185ab5e2c6e206227d97d02cefc11a697ea780b01247866cd9e9/Copy-of-2-Horizons-Glaise-.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="6683" height="4309" width_o="6683" height_o="4309" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/517d6f5ae558e8d171d935e968665abe6576ae30ec7f1757f0fba7470789c32c/Copy-of-3-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" data-mid="241127914" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/517d6f5ae558e8d171d935e968665abe6576ae30ec7f1757f0fba7470789c32c/Copy-of-3-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" /&#62;Top:&#38;nbsp;One of the “iconic” objects we chose as starting points was the Maison Martin Margiela veil. Shown here are examples of artifacts we developed in response. The piece on the left was produced by @knitgeekproject (Valentine Ebner), while the mask on the right was created through the upcycling of garments.
Bottom:&#38;nbsp;The artifacts progressively departed from the original item as the research advanced. 

	“I find myself going back to Evans’ work for ways of thinking about fashion design that attend to fashion as a design practice with its own methods, formats, constraints, and contexts.”
	A “New” Form of Cultural Analysis 
Evans’ Fashion at The Edge, first published in 2003, is “a case study of a method,” which she directs at the work of designers of the late 1990s. [13]Collecting concepts and historical motifs, she moves from present to past, and past to present, to make sense of the ubiquity of spectacle and death in the work of designers such as John Galliano or Alexander McQueen, zooming in on the historical citations that permeate their work. The book homes in on fashion’s material underbelly, contextualizing the anxiety and trauma designs evoked among the large-scale transformations underway at the time: a technological revolution, globalization, a century coming to its conclusion. Her method takes cues from her subject matter: she writes how the designers of which she speaks design. [14] She made this clear at the time, writing that “ragpicking, as well as describing designers’ methods, is also a useful tool for the cultural historian in thinking about fashion today.”[15] In contextualizing her methodological choices and the breadth of the issues addressed, she goes some way in lending fashion design’s “cultural poetics” epistemological weight. [16] She does the latter by way of household names, looking for equivalent methods in the writings of Walter Benjamin (among others). [17]

Like many fashion designers, Evans “thinks through images,” drawing on her own images to illuminate the work of designers—the Benjaminian ragpicker being one of them. She unearths concepts and brings them to bear on fashion to both decipher its meanings and describe its operations. Italo Calvino’s “thinking through images” is an example drawn from another, influential essay of hers, which I have found particularly useful. [18] It is both concrete—it hints at designers’ visual research—and analytically productive. The term can be applied to the fact that designers create garments with an understanding of their narrative or conceptual function within broader compositions—a look and/or a collection. The expression also points to the emblematic quality of the processes and outputs: as Evans argues, images are transformed into objects, and objects into images. In this sense, it points at the central role of “dreamworlds,” not as ad hoc contextualization but as the deliberate materialization of a viewpoint, one that arises from the interaction of a design identity and a specific topic or theme. In many ways, then, her work underscores the specificities of fashion design as it is practiced in our shared context, puts forward concepts through which to apprehend it, and implicitly legitimizes its operations as ways of knowing. [19] 
	


	&#60;img width="6742" height="4312" width_o="6742" height_o="4312" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/7aff5f6d97a3b0d76e6949a46380e6b662233b9e13e769ad670fa1585d1c1e15/Copy-of-4-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" data-mid="241127925" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/7aff5f6d97a3b0d76e6949a46380e6b662233b9e13e769ad670fa1585d1c1e15/Copy-of-4-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" /&#62;The second “iconic” object was the Louis Vuitton Speedy bag tagged by Steven Sprouse in a collaboration initiated by Marc Jacobs. Shown here, an artifact created in response to the Speedy and the opening chapters of the Vuitton series.

 

	“[W]e decided to look critically at our own context (the western fashion and luxury industry), and its golden age (the late 1990s—Evans’ purview), through the viewpoint of some of its ‘iconic’ objects.“
	How To?
Granted, the knowledge produced by fashion design in this context is dependent upon the labor of the critic or the cultural historian. It must be inferred from the images and material translations designers conjure. But there are ways for practitioners to uncover that knowledge and reveal the medium’s potential as a mode of inquiry, and there are dissemination formats to be found within fashion design’s own methods. [20] When designer Emilie Meldem and I set out to conduct a practice-based research project, we decided to look critically at our own context (the western fashion and luxury industry), and its golden age (the late 1990s—Evans’ purview), through the viewpoint of some of its “iconic” objects. [21] The icons were fitting emblems for the industry and a manageable starting point for a more wide-ranging, anti-capitalist, and feminist critique of the fashion industry’s extractive nature and normative thrust. These objects were not only “iconic”—or rather, heralded as such by the industry—but evoked central elements of a fashion design practice: a design identity (a “DNA,” if you will), and a know-how or savoir-faire, which raised questions about materials and production. In short, our choice of objects would help us build our own DNA and savoir-faire.

Our research book—a tool commonly used by designers to document their research and process—became both a format for sharing our output and an analytical tool, through which we articulated our critique and postrationalized our design experiments. In it, our engagement with the icons takes the very literal form of a “detective story” (a term that Evans uses, in fact, to characterize the type of cultural analysis shaped by Walter Benjamin’s concept of the trace and fashion design’s ragpicking [22]).&#38;nbsp; The research material is presented as a series of clues to be deciphered through their captions and the objects they correspond to. These materials provide context for both the icons and the artifacts we created in response, which indexed specific aspects of the original icons or embodied our critique of them. While the initial artifacts closely resembled the icons, they became increasingly distinct through successive iterations—a shift shaped, in part, by the evolving framework of the research, as we moved from an initial, “paranoid” reading of the icons, which focused on the economic system and patriarchal order underwriting them, to attempts at yielding “reparative” tools and practices. [23] 
 
	

	&#60;img width="6722" height="4309" width_o="6722" height_o="4309" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5205f1f4c035be2ba3aba2fb003e029d61cbffe39ce3af3dfaa462045a264da2/Copy-of-5-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" data-mid="241127938" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5205f1f4c035be2ba3aba2fb003e029d61cbffe39ce3af3dfaa462045a264da2/Copy-of-5-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="6732" height="4312" width_o="6732" height_o="4312" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/33398f67b814495fb2bbdece98d1a8cfdfbd954f87c3d26a77a38111b8de7062/Copy-of-6-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" data-mid="241127939" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/33398f67b814495fb2bbdece98d1a8cfdfbd954f87c3d26a77a38111b8de7062/Copy-of-6-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" /&#62;The research material was post-rationalized into a series of visual chapters, with captions offering interpretive clues.

	
	It was clear to us from the start that to stick with the practice, we would have to design the artifacts on the basis of a design identity, and think of a specific know-how, as well as consider production issues. Our close reading of the Margiela veil and of Maison Margiela’s broader appeal as expressing a desire for collective design structures informed the design identity: we gave up on devising an identity as a duo to test what designing as a collective would actually entail. [24] In short, we took seriously the desires lodged in the stories we tell ourselves about these objects, while exposing their falsities (Margiela operated, like most design studios, hierarchically). We assembled a research team and looked for tools to address asymmetries, and make power visible and accessible within the group. [25] So, while we remained committed to fashion as an existing set of practices, we were equally determined to reshape it, drawing on the counter-hegemonic critiques of the theorists, activists, cultural workers, and practitioners in our lives—many of whom embodied several of these roles. [26] 


	

	&#60;img width="6746" height="4312" width_o="6746" height_o="4312" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/324b3283aa696a9604dbb8a24a6d9fe7446b75087068b6057bee34c207dd1da7/Copy-of-7-Horizons-Glaise-.jpg" data-mid="241127941" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/324b3283aa696a9604dbb8a24a6d9fe7446b75087068b6057bee34c207dd1da7/Copy-of-7-Horizons-Glaise-.jpg" /&#62;Artifacts that respond to the Louis Vuitton bag, highlighting its components: the body is made of PVC-coated canvas, while the only leather elements are its handles.


	
	We extrapolated methods from fashion understood as not simply made of design, narrowly conceived as the making of objects, but a whole host of practices that surround it and enable it. Storytelling, and fashion’s own hybrid language (in our context, Franglais), informed the publication’s structure and tone, for example. From the perspective of practice that is often ridiculed or deemed incapable of critical thought, it was essential that we developed our methods and dissemination formats from within the confines of the practice. In fact, staying with the practice meant devising two final stand-alone objects based on the many artifacts produced. [27] This acted as a productive constraint. It compelled us to confront both practical and theoretical questions, which would have escaped us otherwise: how aesthetic decisions are made when a collective is involved, or what desire and success might look like for us, at both the level of the objects and our own life choices, for instance. A focus on the process alone would have led to different outcomes, arguably more theoretical than applied.
	

 



	&#60;img width="6745" height="4310" width_o="6745" height_o="4310" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b497bb48d42d3f146457edca9202f165db1831f472cecd993399fb82194be364/Copy-of-8-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" data-mid="241127965" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b497bb48d42d3f146457edca9202f165db1831f472cecd993399fb82194be364/Copy-of-8-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" /&#62;The chapters move from examining the object itself to documenting and reflecting on our partial responses and provisional solutions to the questions it raised.

	
	Fashion research can be both “artistic” and result in concrete changes to the practice itself, providing its specificities and applied dimension are accounted for. Theoretical frameworks can be put to work, and find themselves refined in the process, perhaps especially when theorists and designers collaborate and titles loosen in the process. This is one of the epistemological potentials of (critical) practice-led research at this moment in time: the possibility to act upon the critiques it articulates—to do better in real time. Fashion’s proximity to desire means it is also uniquely positioned to engage in and render desirable projects of making a good life. Perhaps this is what Evans gestured at in a 2020 interview with Susanna Strömquist, where she proposed fashion activism (re)acquainted itself with utopia. [28]

	

	&#60;img width="6551" height="4310" width_o="6551" height_o="4310" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/42a3166814d11e8890333b532c310427f076b1e0a133b42b453ec0b05872ee84/Copy-of-9-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" data-mid="241127969" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/42a3166814d11e8890333b532c310427f076b1e0a133b42b453ec0b05872ee84/Copy-of-9-Horizons-Glaise.jpg" /&#62;Storytelling played a crucial role in sorting, connecting, and organizing the research material. The research book—designed in collaboration with Sereina Rothenberger and David Schatz of Hammer—is scheduled for publication by Rollo Press in 2026.

	
	
Notes: Thinking Through Fashion (Practically)

[1] Caroline Evans, Fashion at the Edge: Spectacle, Modernity, and Deathliness (Yale University Press, 2003).
[2] Rosie Findlay, “Revisiting Fashion at the Edge: An Interview with Caroline Evans,” International Journal of Fashion Studies 11, no. 2 (2024): 319-327.

[3] I do not hold the proper credentials, in the context of my own institution, to claim the title. I am PhD-less and a part-time member of staff. 

[4] The word is a coded and loaded term that refers to art and design schools of the Global North with associations to the upper echelons of the fashion industry and its capitals. 

[5] Evans, Fashion at The Edge, 13.

[6] Valerie Steele, “The F Word,” *Lingua Franca* 1, no. 4 (April 1991): 17–20.

[7] For an introduction to the rise of practice-based research in fashion, see Elke Gaugele and Monica Titton “The Politics of Fashion Knowledge between Practice and Theory,” in Fashion Knowledge: Theories, Methods, Practice and Politics, ed. Elke Gaugele and Monica Titton (Intellect Ltd., 2024), 1–11.

[8] Yves Citton, “Ce que la recherche-création fait aux thèses universitaires,” Issue, 15 octobre 2024, https://www.hesge.ch/head/issue/publications/ce-la-recherche-creation-fait-aux-theses-universitaires-yves-citton

[9] The term, borrowed by Mika Hannula, Juha Suoranta and Tere Vadén, from Linda Tuhiwai Smith’s work on scientific knowledge and indigenous communities, describes an asymmetrical relationship, or the idea that “the values and phenomena self-evident in communities of the artists may not be self-evident in communities of scientists.” Mika Hannula, Juha Suoranta, and Tere Vadén, Artistic Research Methodology: Narrative, Power and the Public (Peter Lang, 2014). On fashion studies’ critical turn, see for example Natalya Lusty, “Fashion Futures and Critical Fashion Studies,” Continuum: Journal of Media &#38;amp; Cultural Studies 35, no. 6 (2021): 813-823.

[10] Mika Hannula, Juha Suoranta, and Tere Vadén, Artistic Research Methodology: Narrative, Power and the Public, 67.

[11] José Teunissen, “The Transformative Power of Practice-Based Fashion Research,” in Fashion Knowledge: Theories, Methods, Practice and Politics, ed. Elke Gaugele and Monica Titton (Intellect Ltd., 2024), 25.

[12] Caroline Evans, interview by Susanna Strömquist, “Challenging the Orthodoxy of Fashion from Within,” Critical Fashion Project, 2020, .

[13] Evans, Fashion at The Edge, 4.

[14] As Evans notes, designers who were “economically marginal” yet “symbolically central” to the fashion industry in the late ’90s.

[15] Evans, Fashion at The Edge, 11.

[16] Evans, Fashion at The Edge, 13.

[17] Evans, Fashion at The Edge, 12.

[18] Caroline Evans, “Yesterday’s Emblems and Tomorrow’s Commodities: The Return of the Repressed in Fashion Imagery Today,” in Fashion Cultures Revisited, 2nd ed., ed. Stella Bruzzi and Pamela Church Gibson (Routledge, 2013). The article was originally published in 2000, and appears to lay the groundwork for Fashion at The Edge. 

[19] Evans’ institutional home is also an art and design school.

[20] Monica Titton has raised the issue of format in practice-based research, noting that “the format of the journal, book, or magazine (...) seems ideally suited for the representation of practice-based research.” See Monica Titton, “Theory as Practice,” in Fashion Knowledge: Theories, Methods, Practice and Politics, ed. Elke Gaugele and Monica Titton (Intellect Ltd., 2024), 27–35.

[21] If our home institution is located on the margins of fashion’s capital (Geneva!), Paris and its luxury brands remain the school’s gold standard.

[22] Evans, Fashion at The Edge, 12.

[23] Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, “Paranoid Reading and Reparative Reading, or, You’re So Paranoid, You Probably Think This Essay Is About You,” in Touching Feeling: Affect, Pedagogy, Performativity (Duke University Press, 2003), 123–151.

[24] This meant conceiving of ourselves first and foremost as a collective, one that happens to design.

[25] The members are artist and designer Camille Farrah Buhler, designer Peter Wiesmann, and writer and couturière Sabrina Clavo. Together, we form the collective Horizons Glaise. 

[26] Among them, fashion designer and playwright Marvin M’Toumo, cultural worker and feminist activist Elise Magnenat, and design researcher Jonas Berthod.

[27] We are still in the processing of finalizing these, but they consist of a bag and a poster. 

[28] Evans, interview by Strömquist, “Challenging the Orthodoxy of Fashion from Within.”


	
</description>
		
	</item>
		
		
	<item>
		<title>Ruth E Carter</title>
				
		<link>https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/Ruth-E-Carter</link>

		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 2025 20:52:31 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>The Fashion Studies Journal</dc:creator>

		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/Ruth-E-Carter</guid>

		<description>
	
	
	
&#60;img width="7031" height="3531" width_o="7031" height_o="3531" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5e63a796956a22527c215943a5683cdaa309ca93b7baafc253b14075c7f5c4b7/Banner_Cydni-Robertson.jpg" data-mid="240707571" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5e63a796956a22527c215943a5683cdaa309ca93b7baafc253b14075c7f5c4b7/Banner_Cydni-Robertson.jpg" /&#62;

	

&#60;img width="2250" height="2250" width_o="2250" height_o="2250" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/4c76cc8eb6ebe5f401ce03b0e9f4ba7a69b031dd09af4c221622df5ce14dda7f/Headshot_Cydni-Robertson.png" data-mid="240707572" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/4c76cc8eb6ebe5f401ce03b0e9f4ba7a69b031dd09af4c221622df5ce14dda7f/Headshot_Cydni-Robertson.png" /&#62;
Cydni Meredith Robertson, Ph.D., is an Assistant Professor at Indiana University Bloomington in Bloomington, Indiana, in the Eskenazi School of Art, Architecture, and Design, Fashion Merchandising program. Her research interests include a) women’s experiences in the global apparel supply chain and b) the preservation of culture, dress, and identity practices.


	Fashion Griotte and Sankofa Approach to Costume Design

Fashion griotte Ruth E. Carter can simultaneously call forth both the past and the future, with timeless synergy, through the art of costume design. Traditional griottes/griots in West African, Senegalese, Wolof tradition express and preserve oral histories through song, poetry, and storytelling, as purposefully passed down from their ancestors. [1, 2] Carter has committed herself to authentically telling African diasporic narratives by employing creative design in clothing and accessories as her preferred medium of legacy communication. While Carter is renowned as a two-time Academy Award winner for her work in the Black Panther film franchise, Black Panther (2018) and Wakanda Forever (2022), her costuming debut in the Spike Lee joint School Daze (1988) began over 37 years of her fashioning Africentric films. From her work in motion pictures such as Malcolm X (1992), Amistad (1997), B.A.P.S. (1997), Selma&#38;nbsp;(2015), Lee Daniels’ The Butler (2013), and Sinners (2025), it is evident that Carter leans on and learns from the aesthetics of the past to meaningfully connect with fashion and film consumers in the present. 

In this review of Carter’s costume-in-film anthology, we explore her work through a Sankofa lens that borrows from the Akan, Ghanaian term meaning it is not taboo to go back and fetch that which is at risk of being left behind, or it is not forbidden to go into history to validate and reclaim the past, or to look to the past to inform the future. [3, 4, 5]

 The Adinkra symbol of the Sankofa bird illustrates the figure as flying forward yet looking backward, symbolizing the connection of the past and the present of the African diaspora with hopes for a brighter future. [6] Much like the Sankofa bird, Carter has contributed towards her hopes of a brighter, and Blacker, future in both fashion and film for nearly four decades. In honor of the 15th anniversary of the MA Fashion Studies program at Parsons School of Design, this reflection celebrates the past 15 years of Carter’s work with abiding gratitude and ancestral reverence.Ruth E. Carter in Academic Literature

Recent fashion scholarship has examined Carter and her work by acknowledging the visual and narrative tools used to convey historical and political dress. In the film Malcolm X, Carter’s characters donned patterned, colorful, and intentionally oversized wool and silk Zoot suits which were deemed unpatriotic and culturally offensive in their time. These Zoot suits of the 1940s were also perceived negatively due to the excessive use of fabric required to construct the garments during wartime rationing and to general racialized aggression towards Mexican, Filipino, Italian, and Black American freedom of expression. [7, 8] &#38;nbsp;Researchers have analyzed the complex significance of Black skin and heroic costuming from a postcolonial view as displayed in the Black Panther films. [9] Scholars have also admired the impact of historically accurate cultural dress on cinematic queens such as Wakanda’s Queen Ramonda and her array of Isicholo (see: Isicolo) South African Zulu married woman’s crowns, the majority of which were 3D-printed specifically for the film. [10] Carter’s work has also been cited in books that cater to both the academic and public audiences, including her own visual autobiography, museum exhibition reviews, doctoral dissertations, and an abundance of news articles. [11-15] The presence of Carter’s work within these vast yet connected outlets signifies the present-day relevance of her historic and futuristic art across timelines, disciplines, and audiences. To expand upon the historicism woven into Carter’s work, the following section illustrates how she intentionally places markers of time and space in the African diaspora into her costuming practices. 
	


	&#60;img width="3024" height="4032" width_o="3024" height_o="4032" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/cf9bebaf8c539d81b7dbd2786fd4ba15b3bd99d1b5f38093c55613955ad23167/IMG_2937.jpg" data-mid="240860212" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/cf9bebaf8c539d81b7dbd2786fd4ba15b3bd99d1b5f38093c55613955ad23167/IMG_2937.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="4032" height="3024" width_o="4032" height_o="3024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0b11cf4072a07cf1fb204ec0a908999b966d1ad2318db62d9a451b0108ef8df7/IMG_2947.jpg" data-mid="240860288" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0b11cf4072a07cf1fb204ec0a908999b966d1ad2318db62d9a451b0108ef8df7/IMG_2947.jpg" /&#62;Top: Queen Mother Costume for the film Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, designed by Ruth E. Carter. Photo by Cydni Meredith Robertson, Indianapolis Children’s Museum. 
Ruth E. Carter - Afrofuturism in Costume Design Exhibit. June 2025.
Bottom: Costuming from the film Malcolm X, designed by Ruth E. Carter. 
Photo by Cydni Meredith Robertson, Indianapolis Children’s Museum. 
Ruth E. Carter - Afrofuturism in Costume Design Exhibit. June 2025.


	
	Afrohistoricism - Fashion in Film that Looks Backward
Within academic literature and mainstream media, the terms Afrocentrism and Africentrism have been widely adopted. [16, 17] However, the rarely applied portmanteau Afrohistoricism now has the opportunity to be defined through the perspective of visual art and preservation of African diasporic cultural dress and identity. [18] The thread consistently woven within Carter’s work is Afrohistoricism—positive, holistic, and forward-thinking visual messaging about Black life and culture. Since 2010, Carter has designed notable nostalgic films such as Sparkle (2012), set in the 1960s Motown Detroit era, Marshall (2017), set in progressive 1940s Connecticut, and Sinners (2025), set in post-World War I 1930s Mississippi. 

In The Butler, Carter personifies disco culture and the Black-is-Beautiful movement of the 1970s, with characters Cecil (Forest Whittaker) and Gloria (Oprah Winfrey) sporting matching textured black-and-white jumpsuits, inspired by a 1973 Eleganza mail-order catalog in a Frederick’s of Hollywood advertisement. [19] This costuming holds the energy of cultural revolution and self-revelation, as expressed through fashion, music, dance, and loving partnership. [20]

&#60;img width="600" height="1600" width_o="600" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/89852b7a6076fd472e7a11be6e66b9605d1822b108acef4280cb6873363dcb1b/RECarter1.jpg" data-mid="240860375" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/600/i/89852b7a6076fd472e7a11be6e66b9605d1822b108acef4280cb6873363dcb1b/RECarter1.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="1200" height="1600" width_o="1200" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/de6fbfdd24242a8244de5f2606010d45a47efb632c63735e4f9f497e2b46ae7e/RECarter2.jpg" data-mid="240860379" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/de6fbfdd24242a8244de5f2606010d45a47efb632c63735e4f9f497e2b46ae7e/RECarter2.jpg" /&#62;Top: Ruth E. Carter’s webpage, Collection, The Butler
Bottom:&#38;nbsp;Cydni Meredith Robertson, Indianapolis Children’s Museum.&#38;nbsp;Ruth E. Carter - Afrofuturism in Costume Design Exhibit. June 2025.




Yet, Carter does not limit herself to clothe-it-all-joy. In the film Selma (2015), Carter designed five dresses made of silk, cotton, taffeta, organza, and silk velvet to dress the characters representing the four little girls who passed (Carol Denise McNair, Cynthia Dionne Wesley, Addie Mae Collins, and Carole Rosamond Robertson) and one survivor (Sarah Collins Rudolph) in the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing on September 15, 1963. The tragic event ignited the poem “Birmingham Sunday” (September 15, 1963) by Langston Hughes, which quotes, “Four little girls, who went to Sunday School that day, and never came back home at all - but left instead, their blood upon the wall, with spattered flesh, and bloodied Sunday dresses…”. [21] The range in Carter’s art extends beyond costume design. Her work crosses realms that connect with the human experience, bringing past pain and future hope to life through dress. These future hopes are illustrated in the following section as Carter’s influence on Afrofuturism and the Black Fantastic shines in her more recent films.Author’s Note: As I was taking in the heaviness and beauty of the five dresses in this image at the Indianapolis Children’s Museum, I heard the voice of a little girl walk by and say, “Ooh, pretty dresses!”. Those simple, yet powerful, words almost brought me to tears. While the little girl knew nothing of the significance behind these Sunday-best dresses, her innocence humanized the experience of Denise, Cynthia, Addie Mae, Carole, and Sarah. May all little girls be able to grow old and reflect on the ‘pretty dresses’ they once wore.

	


	&#60;img width="4032" height="3024" width_o="4032" height_o="3024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f819cedb70acbc8dbc405d8549b16e572f4170fe87055cbad3a38ef92c6b0256/IMG_2971.jpg" data-mid="240860444" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f819cedb70acbc8dbc405d8549b16e572f4170fe87055cbad3a38ef92c6b0256/IMG_2971.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="1291" height="740" width_o="1291" height_o="740" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c79af9813247a4fc74f92142d45991db2d8cd46e102e35880d90e27dc2802d22/RECarter3.jpg" data-mid="240860447" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c79af9813247a4fc74f92142d45991db2d8cd46e102e35880d90e27dc2802d22/RECarter3.jpg" /&#62;
Top: Five little girls’ dresses for the film Selma, designed by Ruth E. Carter.
Photo by Cydni Meredith Robertson, Indianapolis Children’s Museum. 
Ruth E. Carter - Afrofuturism in Costume Design Exhibit. June 2025.Bottom: Source - Medium, “Four Little Girls, 58 Years Later,” article by: Chloe Smith. Retrieved June 2025. 


	“The Adinkra symbol of the Sankofa bird illustrates the figure as flying forward yet looking backward, symbolizing the connection of the past and the present of the African diaspora with hopes for a brighter future.”
	Afrofuturism and The Black Fantastic - Fashion in Film that Flies Forward
When the first Black Panther film was released into theaters, fans and scholars alike erupted with excitement and critique, guided by an Afrofuturistic framework. [22, 23] Authors such as Octavia Butler, lovingly positioned as “The Mother of Afrofuturism" in literature, have researched and applied Afrofuturistic themes in their renowned work for decades. [24, 25] An extension of Afrofuturism is the concept of the Black Fantastic which is described as “works of speculative fiction that draw from history and myth to conjure new visions of African diasporic culture and identity,” and has already become popular in fashion scholarship. [26, 27] One example of Afrofuturistic dress that maintained historical accuracy and cultural relevance was the red Himba style wig. This wig utilizes shea butter and red clay to form locs that are protected from debris and harsh sun, sealed at the ends with puffs made from wool or other animal fur. This character, an Elder woman in Wakanda, wears a full red skirt and floor-length shawl trimmed in the fictional alphabet of Wakanda, inspired by Nsibidi lettering in southeastern Nigeria and designed by Hannah Beachler, who introduces the futuristic element into these pieces, allowing for a modern perspective on a historical practice. At the 2025 Costume Society of America Conference, Carter stated in her virtual keynote address that “It wasn’t enough to just research the tribes and show them in their indigenous forms, we also needed to show how they honored their ancestry, but also wanted to use modern technology through their dress.” [28]  
	


	&#60;img width="1200" height="1600" width_o="1200" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1c8578a3cf4bde2356b01310ba901dd5331417646372b13ed2350def11bc99a9/RECarter4.jpg" data-mid="240860468" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1c8578a3cf4bde2356b01310ba901dd5331417646372b13ed2350def11bc99a9/RECarter4.jpg" /&#62;

Himba Tribal Edler Costume for the film Black Panther, designed by Ruth E. Carter,
photo by Cydni Meredith Robertson, Indianapolis Children’s Museum. 
Ruth E. Carter - Afrofuturism in Costume Design Exhibit. June 2025.
 

	
	Another dynamic example of Afrofuturism as expressed through dress in Black Panther were the Dora Milage warrior women costumes. The color red and detailing within their costumes were inspired by the Masai tribe in Kenya, while the warrior elements of their costumes were inspired by the Agojie, an all-women military regiment in the Dahomey Kingdom, dating back to the 17th century. Carter (2025) stated, “We wanted their armor to feel like jewelry. We wanted there to be a new way of training the eye to look at beauty under different standards.” [29] The stories told through these pieces are memorable, not just because they are aesthetically pleasing with attractive technologies and bold hues, but because they are memories made tangible in and of themselves. 
Afronowism - Present-Day Gratitude and Impact of Carter’s Fashion in Film
A newly welcomed term, Afronowism, coined by Stephanie Dinkins, refers to “the unencumbered black mind [as] a wellspring of possibility.” [30] Much like the griottes of the past, Dinkins credits her grandmother as the primary source of inspiration behind the development of Afronowism, bringing ancestral wisdom into the modern, artfully lived experience. 

Although films Carter worked on such as School Daze (1988), Do The Right Thing (1989), &#38;nbsp;Crooklyn (1994), and B.A.P.S. (1997) are classics of the past, they were hyper-relevant and modern, reflecting the realness of the Afronow during the time of their production and release. This demonstrates that Carter has had her thimble on the pulse of African diasporic culture across dimensions. Most recently, in Ryan Coogler’s film Sinners (2025), Carter designed what will surely be honored as one of the most iconic displays of historic, present, and futuristic dress practices in the history of film. During the character Sammy’s (Miles Canton) song, “I Lied To You,” Carter channels her inner fashion griotte by inserting characters adorned in Zaouli-inspired dress from Cote d'Ivoire, Alvin Ailey signature red and flowy dancewear, as well as funk- and space-themed garb from the musicians of the late 1970s into the early 1980s. She incorporates 1990s women’s hip-hop–inspired streetwear and accessories, early 2000s Compton-inspired tall-tees, and more, making for a joyfully overwhelming experience, like a Black fashion history “Where’s Waldo?”.

Carter’s approach to costuming, dress, and identity aligns with Dinkins’ view of Afronowism as she asks, “how [can] we liberate our minds from the infinite loop of repression and oppositional thinking America imposes upon those of us forcibly enjoined to this nation?” [29] In the images below, there are hand-written ‘thank you notes’ to Ruth, showing appreciation for her influence and impact on the lives of their writers, emphasizing that her work maintains present admiration and continues to liberate generations past, present, and future. In the words of the characters Mister Señor Love Daddy in Do The Right Thing (Samuel Jackson) and Dap Dunlap in School Daze (Laurence Fishburne), I believe Carter has been asking the costume design industry for decades, not only to look back and fly forward but also to please, “WAKE UP!”

	

	
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Left: Gamma Ray Sketch for the film School Daze, designed by Ruth E. Carter, , photo by Cydni Meredith Robertson, Indianapolis Children’s Museum. Ruth E. Carter - Afrofuturism in Costume Design Exhibit. June 2025.

Right:&#38;nbsp;Tina’s Costume worn by actress Rosie Perez in the film Do The Right Thing, designed by Ruth E. Carter,&#38;nbsp;photo by Cydni Meredith Robertson, Indianapolis Children’s Museum. Ruth E. Carter - Afrofuturism in Costume Design Exhibit. June 2025.

	
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‘Thank you’ cards provided to Cydni Meredith Robertson at the Indiana Comic Convention to be shared within this publication March 2025.

	
	Researcher’s Reflection and Bio
I had three distinct pleasures to interact with Ruth E. Carter’s work in 2025 that led to the publication of this reflection essay and gratitude. In March 2025, I was invited to speak at the Indiana Comic and Pop Culture Convention on the topic “Ruth E. Carter - Afrofuturism in Fashion and Film: From School Daze to Wakanda.” It was at this event that I was able to gather a few personalized ‘thank you’ notes for Carter that affirmed the impact of her life’s work on the lives of those who wrote them. In June 2025, I had the privilege to hear Carter’s virtual keynote to the Costume Society of America’s Symposium at Loyola Marymount University. At this event, I gathered a few inspirational quotes that added color and life to this reflection. Lastly, in June 2025, I visited the Indianapolis Children’s Museum to explore the current exhibit on display, Ruth E. Carter: Afrofuturism in Costume Design, which features more than 60 pieces and illustrations of Carter originals from films such as Do The Right Thing (1989),&#38;nbsp; Dolemite is My Name (2019), and Coming 2 America (2021). The photos in this reflection were taken from this exploratory museum visit.
	

	
	

Notes: Ruth E. Carter[1] Thomas A. Hale, “Griottes: Female Voices from West Africa,” Research in African Literatures 25, no. 3 (1994): 71–91.

[2] Jayne Ifekwunigwe, Re-invoking the Griotte Tradition as a Feminist Textual Strategy, 2008.

[3] James Denbow, “Heart and Soul: Glimpses of Ideology and Cosmology in the Iconography of Tombstones from the Loango Coast of Central Africa,” Journal of American Folklore 112, no. 445 (1999): 404–423.

[4] Shaneé Yvette Murrain, “The Oxford Handbook of African American Theology,” Theological Librarianship 10, no. 1 (2017): 48.

[5] D. Appiah-Adjei, Sankofa as a Universal Theory for Dramatists (2016), ResearchGate, https://www.researchgate.net/publication/289534716.

[6] D. Goeller, “Fashion (Hi)stories: Poetics and Politics,” Clothing Cultures 10, no. 2 (2023): 149–161.

 [7] Marta Torregrosa, Manuel Noguera, and Nélida Luque-Zequeira, “Costume Design in Film: Telling the Story and Creating Malcolm X’s Character in Spike Lee’s Malcolm X (1992),” Fashion, Style &#38;amp; Popular Culture, 2023.

 [8] Indianapolis Children’s Museum, Malcolm X: Shaping the Image of a Leader (Indianapolis: Indianapolis Children’s Museum, 2025).

[9] L. Henry King, “Black Skin as Costume in Black Panther,” Film, Fashion &#38;amp; Consumption 10, no. 1 (2021): 265–276.

[10] Muhammad Salih Odeh, “Visual Identity in Costume Design of the Cinematic Queen’s Character,” International Journal of Design and Fashion Studies 4, no. 1 (2021): 228–244.

[11] Ruth E. Carter, The Art of Ruth E. Carter: Costuming Black History and the Afrofuture, from Do the Right Thing to Black Panther (San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 2023).

[12] S. G. Rubin, The Women Who Built Hollywood: 12 Trailblazers in Front of and Behind the Camera (New York: Astra Publishing House, 2023).

[13] B. Ishola, “Afrofuturism at the Museum of Pop Culture,” World Literature Today 97, no. 1 (2023): 8–10.

[14] J. Thompson, A Counterhistory of the Ratchet: Black Aesthetics in the New Millennium (n.p., 2024).

[15] CBS News, “Ruth E. Carter Makes History as First Black Woman to Win Two Academy Awards for Costume Design,” CBS News, March 13, 2023, https://www.cbsnews.com/news/oscars-2023-ruth-e-carter-black-woman-best-costume-design-black-panther-wakanda-forever/.

[16] Tessa Smith-Whicker and Jenna Brown, “Decolonizing Stylistic Awareness in Higher Education Contemporary Commercial Music Training: Exploring Performer–Practitioner Experiences through an Africentric Approach,” Journal of Popular Music Education 8, no. 2 (2024): 157–178.

[17] Damariyé L. Smith, Interrogating Identity in the Film Dear White People: An Examination of Afrocentrism and Eurocentrism (PhD diss., California State University, Sacramento, 2017).

[18] Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins and Joanne B. Eicher, “Dress and Identity,” Clothing and Textiles Research Journal 10, no. 4 (1992): 1–8.

[19] Sandra Jackson and Angelique Macklin, “Nice &#38;amp; Rough: Unapologetically Black, Beautiful, and Bold,” WSQ: Women’s Studies Quarterly 43 (2015): 122–124.

[20] Clenora Hudson-Weems, Africana Womanism: Reclaiming Ourselves (Troy, MI: Bedford Publishers, 1993).

[21] Langston Hughes, Birmingham Sunday, September 15, 1963.

[22] Rumbidzai Chikafa-Chipiro, “The Future of the Past: Imagi(ni)ng Black Womanhood, Africana Womanism and Afrofuturism in Black Panther,” Image &#38;amp; Text 33 (2019): 1–20.

[23] “How Black Panther Marks a Major Milestone in Afrofuturism,” Time, April 12, 2018, https://time.com/5246675/black-panther-afrofuturism/.

[24] Octavia E. Butler, Kindred (New York: Doubleday &#38;amp; Company, Inc., 1979).

[25] Octavia E. Butler, Parable of the Sower (New York: Four Walls Eight Windows, 1993).

[26] Ekow Eshun, In the Black Fantastic (London: Thames &#38;amp; Hudson, 2022).

[27] Janis Jefferies, “Razzle, Dazzle and the Black Fantastic,” TEXTILE 22, no. 1 (2024): 166–173.

 [28] Ruth E. Carter, keynote address, Costume Society of America Conference, Loyola Marymount University (virtual), 2025.

[29] Stephanie Dinkins, “Afro-now-ism: The Unencumbered Black Mind Is a Wellspring of Possibility,” Berggruen Institute, November 13, 2020, https://www.noemamag.com/afro-now-ism/. 
Additional ResourcesAmistad. Directed by Steven Spielberg. Universal City, CA: DreamWorks Pictures, 1997. Film.
B.A.P.S. Directed by Robert Townsend. Burbank, CA: New Line Cinema, 1997. Film.
Black Panther. Directed by Ryan Coogler. Burbank, CA: Marvel Studios, 2018. Film.
Lee Daniels’ The Butler. Directed by Lee Daniels. Los Angeles: The Weinstein Company, 2013. 		Film.

Malcolm X. Directed by Spike Lee. Burbank, CA: Warner Bros., 1992. Film.

Marshall. Directed by Reginald Hudlin. Los Angeles: Open Road Films, 2017. Film.

School Daze. Directed by Spike Lee. New York: Columbia Pictures, 1988. Film.

Selma. Directed by Ava DuVernay. Hollywood, CA: Paramount Pictures, 2015. Film.

Sinners. Directed by Ryan Coogler. United States: Proximity Media; distributed by Warner Bros. 		Pictures, 2025. Film.

Sparkle. Directed by Salim Akil. Culver City, CA: Sony Pictures, 2012. Film.

Wakanda Forever. Directed by Ryan Coogler. Burbank, CA: Marvel Studios, 2022. Film.



 
 
	

 


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Nuno Nogueira holds a BA and an MA in Fashion Design from the Lisbon School of Architecture,&#38;nbsp; University of Lisbon, and a PhD in Design from the same school. He teaches Draping, Pattern Design,&#38;nbsp; and Fashion Project at the Lisbon School of Architecture. His research pivots around artistic approaches&#38;nbsp; to body representation in pattern design through exploratory processes implicating sensory and&#38;nbsp; performative interactions. Outside academia, he often collaborates as a costume designer for dance&#38;nbsp; performances.Ines Simoes holds a BA in Painting, an AAS in Patternmaking, an MSc and a PhD in Design. Her&#38;nbsp; professional activity covers fine arts, fashion and costume design, 2D and 3D pattern design. She is an&#38;nbsp; Associate Professor at Lisbon School of Architecture, University of Lisbon, and the coordinator of the BA&#38;nbsp; Fashion Design. Her research and writing comprise the paradigms of the body’s representation in pattern&#38;nbsp; design and new approaches to teaching-learning fashion design.




	
The title of this essay matches its structure: reflect imparts the students’ reactions throughout experiencing one nonlinear process; reflected presents three conceptions of reflection that ground the process; reflection conveys the implications of this type of process for both teachers and students.

Reflect
In 2024, we devised the RORSCHACH project as the final assignment for 3D Pattern Design, a requirement for seniors in the three-year B.A. Fashion Design program at the Lisbon School of Architecture. Following their three semesters of flat patternmaking, students met weekly over the course of a five-week period to collaborate on this project, with our guidance as their teachers. 
The brief outlined the project's steps and included four dress patterns by French costume designer Geneviève Sevin-Doering, as well as four inkblot cards by Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Hermann Rorschach. Placed above each other, the four pairs display an obvious similarity: regardless of their distinctive purposes, both are symmetrical and intriguing (Fig. 1). The project’s main goal was to challenge students with a design process that subverts the classical and linear processes they are used to, as it did not require taking a series of actions to achieve a particular predetermined end. Instead, its emphasis was on serendipity, ensuring that the process was engaging and open-ended.
We figured, what better way to start the process than by pouring or dripping ink onto sheets of&#38;nbsp;paper,&#38;nbsp;then folding&#38;nbsp;them in half to create symmetrical patterns with the right and left sides making&#38;nbsp; a reflection of each other? (Fig. 2)Regardless of how effortless and playful this step was, some students thought, “It was all so messy,” and since the brief specified that the unplanned inkblots would serve as clues for identifying possible dress designs made from one-piece patterns, they panicked in anticipation. One student expressed,

“You could see that it was an assignment &#38;nbsp; that required a lot of thought, especially thinking outside the box. We weren’t supposed to follow the linear rules we had learned in previous semesters. So I thought, if I approach it with a more positive mindset, it might work. I’ll just let the inkblots turn out however they will.”

Other students were enthralled by the opportunity to break the rules of flat patternmaking. Nevertheless, it’s fair to say that they were all unsure of “how they were going to work on it, how to start from ‘something’ that seemed to be ‘nothing.’” &#38;nbsp;

	


	&#60;img width="7997" height="3181" width_o="7997" height_o="3181" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8c63ec57e255e3aba72d3cfd53f89c6be4e666b9427491f36416fa01650e74ee/Copy-of-Figure_1-1.jpeg" data-mid="240858764" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8c63ec57e255e3aba72d3cfd53f89c6be4e666b9427491f36416fa01650e74ee/Copy-of-Figure_1-1.jpeg" /&#62;Fig. 1 (top) GENEVIÈVE SEVIN-DOERING patterns, 1981-1994 (bottom) HERMANN RORSCHACH inkblots, 1921


	“The project’s main goal was to challenge students with a design process that subverts the classical and linear processes...”
	At that point, the process involved folding the traced blots in various ways to explore how they could be transformed into potential garments, tallying with another goal of the RORSCHACH project. Through the interplay of folds—folding, unfolding, refolding, with each fold acting and reacting on another—it became clear to the students that some parts of the traced blots resembled specific sections of a pattern. However, as one student pointed out, “what about the rest of the blot[s]?”

	

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Fig. 2 Inkblots by third-year students


	
	Based on the students' tacit knowledge, it was evident that the process entailed simplifying the shapes of the traced blots, either by enlarging or discarding some areas, until the one-piece patterns seemed right; by drawing on their bodily perception, the students also considered how the body moves inside the garments throughout the editing process. (Fig. 3)

	 



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Fig. 3 From inkblot to pattern to sweatshirt (by Sofia Costa)

	
	Naturally, not all students had the same reaction to this assignment: some loathed it, some loved it, and some endured it with indifference. Manifestly, not all outcomes were surprising, design-wise; however, by engaging students in a project that merges the actions of making-thinking-drawing as one, they were able to achieve unpredictable outcomes that otherwise wouldn't have been reached.
Regarding the pants one student designed during this process, she mentioned, “maybe I could have made it in flat patternmaking. But it never would be so over the top. Because I think I got the balance between its exaggerated silhouette and wearability.” (Fig. 4)

	 

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Fig. 4 From inkblot to pattern to pants&#38;nbsp; with box pleat (by Sonia Ribeiro)

	











































































































































	
	Reflected
The theoretical and practical implications of the RORSCHACH project are grounded in three conceptions of reflection. The first and most obvious is the conception of the human body as a mirrored, spatial configuration relative to an imaginary vertical plane or axis. According to German mathematician and philosopher Hermann Weyl, the symmetry of left and right, i.e. bilateral symmetry, is a geometric concept that presupposes that two points share the same relation to a given plane, each standing on the opposite side of that plane, through reflection. Thus, reflection “is that mapping of space upon itself… that carries [an] arbitrary point into its mirror image.” [1]

Because&#38;nbsp; bilateral symmetry is so prominent in the way we perceive the structure of the human body, it has several practical implications in the designing and construction of dress. In patternmaking and draping, for example, center front and center back are auxiliary lines used when cutting the fabric on fold, or even when classifying a garment as asymmetrical. Therefore, the first step of the RORSCHACH project, which entails the creation of unplanned but symmetrical inkblots, arises from the idea that, as long as bilateral symmetry is respected, any drawing is a possible dress pattern.

The second conception of reflection is elicited when students explore the potential of the inkblots through folding. The open-ended nature of the project required a thinking process that American philosopher and professor Donald Schön coined in 1983 known as reflection-in-action, “[an] intuitive performance [where] reflection tends to focus interactively on the outcomes of action… and the intuitive knowing implicit in the action.” [2]&#38;nbsp; Schön admits that reflection-in-action presupposes the use of one’s tacit knowledge, a phrase&#38;nbsp;introduced&#38;nbsp;by Hungarian-British polymath Michael Polanyi in 1966. Polanyi’s&#38;nbsp;idea that “we can know more than we can tell,” matching the second step of the&#38;nbsp;RORSCHACH&#38;nbsp;project, draws a parallel to the&#38;nbsp;internalized knowledge of the body-dress relationship acquired by students throughout the B.A. program. [3]

The validity of the RORSCHACH project—and any design project using nonlinear processes—lies in its ability to encourage students to freely reflect [on] their intimate perspectives about designing garments. A third conception of reflection emerges when [some] students reconsider their preconceived beliefs about fashion and dress. According to American philosopher John Dewey, the process by which “[an] active, persistent, and careful consideration of any belief or supposed form of knowledge in the light of the grounds that support it, and the further conclusions to which it tends” is called reflective thought. [4] What Dewey suggests here is that any experience, particularly in a pedagogical context, should stimulate students to reflect on the connection between the basis of a conviction and its consequences. 

Even though Dewey does not mention the potential of open, nonlinear processes to expand one’s view about a subject, he explicitly sustains that every reflective operation involves “a state of perplexity, hesitation, doubt; and an act of search […] directed toward bringing to light further facts which serve to corroborate or to nullify the suggested belief.” [5]&#38;nbsp; 

It would be dishonest to state that the RORSCHACH project alone caused students to deeply reflect on their identities as fashion designers-to-be. After all, it takes a village to raise a child, as the proverb goes. But as one student stated:

“Nowadays, the amount of advertising, communication, and things that are always influencing us is overwhelming. And in these types of processes, there is little outside that influences us.”

	

	
	Reflection 
The RORSCHACH project devised for 3D Pattern Design reflects our interest in nonlinear processes. We believe that different pedagogical approaches must be adopted, unlike the classical and linear processes employed from our former college professors that are still in use. [6] For some time now, we have been experimenting with alternative processes, merging the actions of ideation and materialization as one. The idea behind our pedagogical experimentations is to enable students to surpass internal and external preconceptions and to reflect their true selves in their work.

Admittedly, the RORSCHACH project was the product of a whim—how could we not be fascinated by the beauty of Rorschach’s inkblots and instantly associate them to Sevin-Doering’s one-piece patterns?

Initially, the project's variability and unpredictability posed challenges for all involved as students were unsure of where to begin the process without knowing the solution, and teachers were uncertain of how to provide useful suggestions.

Eventually, those uncertainties enabled suspending [some] hierarchies between everyone involved. With no definitive correct or incorrect answers, the students found themselves on equal ground with the teachers. And so, students began to rely on their ability to summon an internalized knowledge of the body-dress relationship, as well as their resilience in exploring various solutions.

Admittedly, the project demanded an agile and unassuming mindset from the teachers, as implementing open-ended projects based on nonlinear processes requires all involved to embrace the surprising outcomes, whether promising or undesirable. This, in turn, proved to boost the students' confidence in their reasoning skills.

Of course, a few students did resist this pedagogical approach, questioning its purpose. However, given the majority of the outcomes, we trust that serendipity is a key factor in designing, as it might bring about the reflected self.
Ultimately, projects like the RORSCHACH, which involve working side by side with students, allow us to reflect continuously on our role as teachers.

 
Notes: Reflect Reflected Reflection
[1] Hermann Weyl, Symmetry (Princeton University Press, 1952), 5, https://abel.math.harvard.edu/~knill/teaching/mathe320_2017/blog17/Hermann_Weyl_Symmetry.pdf

[2] Donald Schön, The Reflective Practitioner – How Professionals Think in Action (Routledge, 2016[1983]), 56.

[3] Michael Polanyi, The Tacit Dimension (The Chicago University Press, 2009[1966]), 4.

[4] John Dewey, How We Think (D. C. Heath &#38;amp; Co. Publishers, 1910), 6, https://bef632.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/dewey-how-we-think.pdf&#38;nbsp;

[5] Dewey, How We Think, 9.

[6] Steven Faerm, “Why Art and Design Higher Education Needs Advanced Pedagogy,” M/I/S/C Magazine (2013), https://miscmagazine.com/author/sfaerm/



	

	
	
	
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		<title>Beyond Colonial Frameworks</title>
				
		<link>https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/Beyond-Colonial-Frameworks</link>

		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 2025 20:47:35 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>The Fashion Studies Journal</dc:creator>

		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/Beyond-Colonial-Frameworks</guid>

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Sarah Javaid, a graduate of the Pakistan Institute of Fashion and Design, Lahore, is an Assistant Professor at her alma mater. Her research interests focus on exploring youth subcultures in contemporary Pakistan. Her work seeks to understand fashion as an influencer of societal shifts, exploring how designers can respond to and shape these dynamics while mediating industry standards and expectations.
Syed Meher Ali is a contemporary Pakistani artist whose practice sits at the intersection of performance and decolonial expression. Situated in domestic settings, his work challenges social structures and reclaims fashion as a site of agency and cultural legitimacy


	
Over the last fifteen years, global fashion studies have made strides toward decolonization. We see this in updated course syllabi, museum exhibitions, conference themes, and fashion weeks showcasing non-Western designers. The institutions that once claimed fashion now aim to decolonize it. [1] The power struggle that emerges&#38;nbsp; from the Western positioning of this narrative divides us. [2] This tension feels especially acute in Pakistan, where colonial legacies, ideological anxieties, and social surveillance still shape our sartorial histories. Here, ‘sartorial’ refers to the embodied, situated practice of dress through which social meaning is made, contested, and archived. Grounded in indigenous iconography and craft, it reframes what dress does and signifies. [3] This reflection, therefore, examines the sartorial both as an object of analysis and a method of decolonization. It proposes how sartorial practice can restore authorship to Pakistani makers and wearers, offering a transferable framework for contemporary fashion pedagogy and practice.

I write as an educator at Pakistan’s first fashion school, Pakistan Institute of Fashion and Design (PIFD). Established in 1994 as a project of the Export Promotion Bureau and initially affiliated with L’Ecole de la Chambre Syndicale de la Couture Parisienne, PIFD imported not only a curriculum but an aesthetic. [4] This foundation structured how fashion would be taught across Pakistan, with local institutes soon following suit. Even after its recognition as a degree-awarding institution by the Higher Education Commission in 2010, Western fashion continued to dominate classrooms, while non-Western garments appeared largely as ethnic curiosities. 

As a PIFD graduate, and later a faculty member, I observed that the curriculum privileged Western practices, often steering students towards Eurocentric themes in their design process. Assessing this gap in the teaching of fashion prompted me to redesign two undergraduate courses. The first explored the history of South Asian costume and indigenous textiles, while the second investigated Pakistan’s sartorial identity during and after Partition. These courses offered accounts of how culture informed the politics of dress. However, resources were limited. What I had were fragmented archives and personal anecdotes. Designing these courses revealed how deeply the term fashion had been misconstrued and underscored the urgency of acknowledging and documenting local histories. This urgency found meaning in the work of students like Syed Meher Ali, whose practice exemplifies how pedagogical intervention can seed new sartorial inquiries.

The absence of historical data and material culture has reinforced a predominantly Western approach to teaching fashion in Pakistan. As a result, indigenous histories are regularly marginalized, flattening our cultural complexity. [5] A reframed approach treats local dress not as a static national symbol but as an evolving situated practice that embodies stories of aspirations, craft, faith, migration, and kinship. When students explore local archives—like stories of their grandmothers’ bridal joras, or the houses they lived in post-Partition, or how the children on the street style their secondhand garments—they learn that fashion thrives in bazaars, rituals, and everyday life, and that these practices constitute the knowledge base of fashion studies.

	


	
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Meher in sidha paijama and floral qameez relocating authorship to everyday environments, Kotli, Azad Kashmir, 2024. Image courtesy of Syed Meher Ali.

	
	I was introduced to Meher as his instructor at PIFD (2018–2022), where I supervised the studio course in which he first invited a dialogue on the social construct of fashion. By investigating gendered hierarchies through the act of dressing, his inquiry extended beyond coursework into a sustained sartorial practice that revealed how the semiotics of dress are shaped by hegemonic structures. Since his graduation, successive student cohorts have cited his approach, drawing courage to foreground indigenous materials, craft, domestic objects, and gender nuance in their projects. Contemporary Pakistani designers have likewise adapted this template across product development, casting, and brand storytelling. I therefore select Meher not for symbolic resonance but because his practice demonstrates how decolonization operates as a repeatable design framework within Pakistan. It is legible to local audiences, adaptable by emerging designers, and capable of shifting classroom and studio practice toward a reclaimed authorship.
	


	
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Top:&#38;nbsp;Self-portrait in Balochi kurta by Haider Ali Tiwana and Kashmiri jewelry, 2025.
Middle:&#38;nbsp;Adornment as ritual in heirloom pieces by Mughal Jewelers, 2025.
Bottom:&#38;nbsp;Codes of hybridity, Sidha Paijama&#38;nbsp; and leather jacket, 2025. All images courtesy of Syed Meher Ali.

	

	His work also makes visible how deeply symbols can guide personal aesthetics. For Meher, the heart motif holds deep resonance. Borrowed from his mother’s green silk garara, embroidered with stars, moon, and hearts, the garment burned in a house fire, but its memory endured. Some dismissed his obsession with hearts as a poor sentimental token. But, for him, they became an act of remembrance. Transposing these deliberate choices—including the kohl-inked eyes, draped shalwar, paranda, and the use of Kashmiri jewelry—becomes an emblem of memory and resistance. His style, deeply embedded in regional traditions, extends beyond ceremonial contexts, asserting that the legitimacy of adornment is not inherently tied to ritualistic or heteronormative conventions. In urban encounters, he was often cast as a threat to the social order, met with ridicule and labeled uncivilized. These responses reveal how hierarchies of taste mark certain expressions as inferior, shaping dominant notions of cultural authenticity.
	

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Dil Kurta for Eid, 2025.&#38;nbsp; Image courtesy of Syed Meher Ali.

	


	Resisting such relegation, Meher invites the viewer inside an ordinary domestic setting characterized by floral bedsheets, wooden windows, and bright paint. By situating fashion within a familiar Pakistani environment, Meher authenticates intimate spaces as legitimate realms for decolonized expression. Disrupting conventional norms, the use of traditional iconography is not merely nostalgic but a vibrant cultural reality often dismissed due to its ‘distasteful’ aesthetic against Western minimalism.
	

	
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&#60;img width="3024" height="4032" width_o="3024" height_o="4032" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/6aec8bb10fd7bed38be5f9e799ac47a6b48f111a89ff3dd4ea701fa96d6d6a65/Figure-6_A.jpg" data-mid="240858534" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/6aec8bb10fd7bed38be5f9e799ac47a6b48f111a89ff3dd4ea701fa96d6d6a65/Figure-6_A.jpg" /&#62;

Triptych, Site, movement and response in urban commons, Mall road, Lahore, 2024.&#38;nbsp; Image courtesy of Syed Meher Ali.

	
	What we wear is often underestimated as a social force. We are so accustomed to clothing that it slips under the radar of our thoughts. Sometimes we conform to the expectations associated with the dress; other times we use it to help maintain social hierarchies and gender divisions. However, dress can also be mobilized to resist these establishments. Meher incorporates a multitude of such nuances in his work, provoking a sense of curiosity. Some find his practice disturbing. Some are shocked by the ease with which he extends his second skin. In the process of reclamation, Meher confronts these internalized hierarchies while offering others a space for collaborative intervention.

	

	&#60;img width="960" height="1280" width_o="960" height_o="1280" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b4b955e5af300589ccf427096938e8cf6afb06fd41b52135d597a7194a9870b8/Figure-7.jpg" data-mid="240858603" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/960/i/b4b955e5af300589ccf427096938e8cf6afb06fd41b52135d597a7194a9870b8/Figure-7.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="5304" height="7952" width_o="5304" height_o="7952" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ae77fe7694d9776b0ae446a0c80e07750c2fc9a4716ff3c2d876aefd84f464f4/Figure-8.JPG" data-mid="240858604" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ae77fe7694d9776b0ae446a0c80e07750c2fc9a4716ff3c2d876aefd84f464f4/Figure-8.JPG" /&#62;&#60;img width="3376" height="6000" width_o="3376" height_o="6000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3ac4dffb3a3f44281904c717e9624d0be58aeaba8511e7ead9b9347b68ce302b/Figure-9.jpg" data-mid="240858607" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3ac4dffb3a3f44281904c717e9624d0be58aeaba8511e7ead9b9347b68ce302b/Figure-9.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="5000" height="6667" width_o="5000" height_o="6667" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b0fdce2302fc94ef3cac6457169fde6b7c3da3f0ebdded0b40fa9e9c9dc8b0d4/Figure-10.JPG" data-mid="240858615" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b0fdce2302fc94ef3cac6457169fde6b7c3da3f0ebdded0b40fa9e9c9dc8b0d4/Figure-10.JPG" /&#62;Top: Meher in a dhoti and raw silk choli wrap at PIFD, Lahore, 2025.
Second from top:&#38;nbsp;Kashmiri Kurta with Sidha Paijama and tasseled dupatta, Shah Alam market, Lahore, 2025.
Second from bottom:&#38;nbsp;Reclaiming local, in a green hand-loomed buti-weaved shalwar and paranda braided handbag, 2024.
Bottom:&#38;nbsp;Dil-e-Nova mirror by master metalworkers at Iqbal Begum in Androon Lahore, 2025. All images courtesy of Syed Meher Ali.

	
	Dress is a continuum of identity and self-presentation, through which we reflect on and challenge preconceived assumptions about boundaries and transgressions. The embodiment of personal narrative creates a textual and performative power—to select or suppress certain aspects of human experience. To prefer or downplay meanings, to give voice and body to identities not only visible, audible, and palpable, but also discussable. [6] This endorsement can bring a structural change to the individual’s way of seeing themselves and the social world that provides context for the individual’s life and experiences.

The turn toward the local is not a rejection of the global but a reclamation of agency. It reflects the systems we inhabit and the futures we imagine. For too long, non-Western aesthetics were mined by the global fashion industry without credit. Today, Pakistani creators assert authority over their traditions. Despite restraints, memory continues to guide us. Clothing relics passed through generations, textiles woven in regions cut off by borders act as archives of identity. Similarly, in moments of quiet defiance—a student choosing to work on reviving a dying regional craft, or a designer working with local artisans despite logistic concerns, or a garment reimagined from discarded family heirlooms—these are indigenous narratives that need to be recorded as they serve as an extension of the self and as future contributions to cultural history. 

Reclaiming our sartorial practice is more than an academic exercise. It is a declaration of self-definition, resistance, and healing. When a student like Syed Meher Ali stands before a camera, he is demanding recognition of his sartorial identity. In Pakistan, where colonial scars and cultural erasure run deep, fashion can be both a battleground and a sanctuary. It is how we remember. It is how we resist. It is how we dream. As we look ahead, the next fifteen years of fashion studies in Pakistan must be written by those who live and breathe these narratives. We must be more than case studies. We must be co-authors of our stories, articulating our languages, on our terms. To reclaim fashion is, ultimately, to reclaim ourselves.


Notes: Reclaiming Sartorial Narratives
[1] Elke Gaugele and Monica Titton, eds., Fashion and Postcolonial Critique (Berlin: Sternberg Press, 2019).

[2] Kimberly A. Miller-Spillman, Andrew Reilly, and José Blanco F., The Meanings of Dress, 5th ed. (New York: Bloomsbury, 2024).

[3] Lipi Begum and Rohit K. Dasgupta, “Contemporary South Asian Youth Cultures and the Fashion Landscape,” International Journal of Fashion Studies 2, no. 1 (2015): 133–45.

[4] Pakistan Institute of Fashion and Design, “About,” accessed August 14, 2025, https://pifd.edu.pk/about.html.

[5] Uzma Siraj and Asghar Dashti, “Unveiling the Coloniality of Education: A Post-colonial Critique and Decolonizing of Education in Pakistan,” Asian Journal of Academic Research 5, no. 3 (Autumn 2024): 19–30.

[6] Jessica L. Neumann, “Fashioning the Self: Performance, Identity and Difference” (master’s thesis, University of Denver, 2011), https://digitalcommons.du.edu/etd/475/.


	
</description>
		
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	<item>
		<title>The Eyes of Animals</title>
				
		<link>https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/The-Eyes-of-Animals</link>

		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 2025 20:59:33 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>The Fashion Studies Journal</dc:creator>

		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/The-Eyes-of-Animals</guid>

		<description>&#60;img width="7031" height="3531" width_o="7031" height_o="3531" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0bc2ba2856def3a0584a1a4c6159d6aba945d0e91bc4eaa34004ff81d6e4cea2/Banner_Claire-Sigal-.jpg" data-mid="240707659" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0bc2ba2856def3a0584a1a4c6159d6aba945d0e91bc4eaa34004ff81d6e4cea2/Banner_Claire-Sigal-.jpg" /&#62;


	
&#60;img width="2250" height="2250" width_o="2250" height_o="2250" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f9aa966f82cd4d207a7a12ec0d849861c73339ffd42b3ef2e2af91b85b718f9e/Headshot_Claire-Sigal.png" data-mid="240707660" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f9aa966f82cd4d207a7a12ec0d849861c73339ffd42b3ef2e2af91b85b718f9e/Headshot_Claire-Sigal.png" /&#62;Claire Sigal holds a BFA in Art History from Concordia University and an MISt in Library Sciences from McGill University, both in Montreal. Her focus is on the intersection of textiles and literature and multi-alphabetical cataloguing. She is a historical Judaica embroidery recreator and folk dancer.



	
In India, there is a custom that a bride has her dowry of linens carried to her new home in a chakla, a sturdy and richly embroidered cloth. [1] It is stitched all over with small, sparkling discs of mirrored glass. Mirror embroidery, also known as abhla bharat in Hindi and shisheh in Persian, describes the surface of the cloth that binds and holds a dowry. It will later be hung on the wall of a bride’s new home. Created by working interlacing stitches in a central loop surrounding a disc of mirrored glass, this stitch holds the disk in place, much like a stone set in a ring. [2] The motifs that surround the glass discs are variegated figural embroidery worked in hir, silk embroidery floss. Often, silver or gold are wrapped around an embroidery thread to add even more sparkle. While mirror embroidery is used as a decorative motif, it is also widely believed to have talismanic powers. [3] It is believed that these glimmering discs of mirrored glass will protect a bride from ill fortune, as each sparkle has a magic power: to repel an ill-wishing person, or spirit, from gazing at her with jealousy, something that many believe could kill her. 

These embroidered textiles' clear motifs provide clues to their origins. The trouble is that textile work is, by nature, ephemeral. It wears out with use, and often is not designed to survive forever. Silk, on which mirror embroidery is traditionally worked, is notorious for its delicacy and degradation. It often cannot be washed and must be kept only in the most ideal conditions. Cotton, also a traditional base for mirror embroidery, survives better than silk; however, no ancient examples of mirror embroidery exist in either fabric. The lack of extant examples of historical textiles often leads their histories to meld into folklore, and mirror embroidery is no exception. The widely-believed myths about the creation of this style of embroidery will be compared with historical fact, though its exact origins remain unknown.
 

	


	&#60;img width="594" height="600" width_o="594" height_o="600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/74583811f192525dc2d70ac6dcdbb4f5920d49f3f6fa62ae643b04903f069bb6/Chakla-cloth.jpg" data-mid="240902598" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/594/i/74583811f192525dc2d70ac6dcdbb4f5920d49f3f6fa62ae643b04903f069bb6/Chakla-cloth.jpg" /&#62;Chakla: Cloth Used to Wrap Articles of Bride's Dowry, or as a Hanging from Kathiawar, c. 1800, embroidered cotton cloth, 76.2 x 75.6 cm, Cleaveland Museum of Art, Cleaveland.

	“Kathi embroideries are described as, ‘Hand drawn upon cotton cloth, and freely worked with floss silk, hir, adding discs of mirrored glass to emphasise features such as the centres of flowers or the eyes of animals and birds.’”
	Origins
Often called shisheh, mirror embroidery is believed by many to have come from Persia, modern-day Iran. This narrative is so pervasive that even a prominent designer in India known for her mirror-embroidered saris stated that the style came from Persia as if it were fact. [4] However, while there is plenty of evidence of the influence of Persian embroidery motifs on Indian embroidered textiles, there is no solid evidence that mirror embroidery has its origins there. [5] In fact, Persian sources do not claim they invented mirror embroidery, but many Indian sources attribute the style to Persia, nonetheless. 

 	Embroidery in India flourished under the Mughal ruler, Akhbar, a devout Muslim who held a strong philosophy of encouraging plurality. [6] Due to his open approach to difference, Akhbar’s empire flourished as he expanded international trading and opened new ports. Akhbar highly valued the arts, and this ideology extended to textiles from around the world. His fondness for textiles is highlighted in the Ain-i-Akhbar: “His majesty himself acquired in a short time a theoretical and practical knowledge of the whole [textile] trade…A taste for fine material has since become general [in his court].” [7] He understood the textile trade from an economic perspective and he also took great pleasure in dressing, owning an abundance of local and foreign-made clothing. [8] His court was influenced by his love of textiles and shared his passion for the craft. By opening new ports, Akhbar’s India traded with Persia, China, and Europe. [9] Trading textiles left its mark on Indian embroidery, with Persian influence being clearly present in embroidery motifs.&#38;nbsp; 

Originally reserved for ritual wall hangings in temples,&#38;nbsp; mirror embroidery originated with Kathi embroiderers, who then passed the style down to Mochi embroiderers. [10, 11] Mochi embroiderers (Mochi meaning cobbler in Hindi) developed their style of embroidery on leather goods. Firstly, on leather shoes, then leather gloves, and eventually creeping onto clothing. [12] Mochi needleworkers are thought to have been brought to India from Persia. One narrative is that when the Kathis hired Mochi embroiderers from Persia, they brought the technique of mirror embroidery with them, which then flourished in India. [13] Mochi embroiderers were brought by the Kathis to work in Akhbar’s court where he had an entire workshop, a kharkhana, solely for embroidery. [14] 

However, Kathi embroiderers from Kutch, a region in India, are the embroiderers most discussed in the early history of mirror embroidery. The embroidery from Kutch in Gujarat is considered by many to be the best in the world. [15] Kathi embroideries are described as, “Hand drawn upon cotton cloth, and freely worked with floss silk, hir, adding discs of mirrored glass to emphasise features such as the centres of flowers or the eyes of animals and birds.” [16] Meanwhile, Mochi embroiderers developed the style further by introducing figural work, which remains popular today. Although there are no extant mirror embroidered textiles from the earliest Kathi works, there is a belief that they invented the technique and used these reflective discs of glass, which capture winks of sunlight in ritual textiles for sun worship. [17]

Akhbar’s golden age of textile trade and production ended with the ushering in of the Aurangzeb Period. [18] Embroidery became less valued, and these highly skilled embroiderers moved away from established Mughal textile centres and into more rural areas. Today, there are many villages that specialize in mirror embroidery. The motifs they work are less rigid and are often done with synthetic materials or blends. [19]
Functionality and Belief SystemsBoth Persia and India have rich traditions of attaching reflective decorations, like coins or sequins, onto textiles. While on the surface, ornamentation is only added to enhance the textile’s beauty, these additions often have different functions and beliefs surrounding them.&#38;nbsp; Many believe that amuletic ornaments that repel the evil eye are a crucial aspect of adornment. The evil eye, a gaze from an evil spirit or from a jealous living person, is considered seriously harmful to the recipient of the gaze in many cultures. There are countless amulets to ward against the evil eye, and many of them are reflective. As discussed in Islamic Textiles by Patricia Baker: 

Many types of applied decorations are no more than that–pretty things to add colour and pattern–but some types were chosen and added to fulfill a specific important function…Amulets and charms were commonly used to ensure protection, with the intention of attracting the very first glance, which would then deflect any evil that might otherwise harm the wearer. Shiny surfaces were thought to be particularly effective at distracting the evil spirits. Even one small bead or reflective plaque was better than none. [20] 

A mirrored tradition exists in India and Pakistan pertaining to reflective ornaments under the umbrella term, zardozi. The word zardozi literally means ‘gold embroidery’ but includes any shiny decorative element on textile. [21] This includes metalwork embroidery, iridescent beetle wings, and mirror embroidery. Like the Persian folk belief, many Indian and Pakistani mirror embroiderers, and those who wear their work, believe that these discs of mirrored glass can repel the evil eye. [22] Though the physical record of mirror embroidery as we know it goes back one hundred years, its use in India is believed to date back to at least the sixteenth century. [23] Mirror embroidery predates the division of India and Pakistan. Women who specialize in this craft, living in a village of fellow mirror embroiderers in Sanghar Sindh, Pakistan, cite repelling the evil eye as a major reason to wear, and work, this style of embroidery. [24] Due to its perceived protection from the evil eye, these embroiderers claim that mirror embroidery protects the wearer’s beauty, charm, happiness, fertility, pride, youth, tradition, and “solar vitality.” [25]

Not all embroiderers agree with this superstitious attitude towards mirror embroidery, instead favouring a more officially religious belief system. [26] One religious Muslim embroiderer stated that belief in the amuletic properties of mirror embroidery was nonsense but continued to praise mirror embroidery for its beauty alone. [27] Religion and folk beliefs often clash when it comes to practical magic such as folk amulets. Nonetheless, cherished folk practices are often met with leniencies when they do not fit perfectly into a dominant religion’s belief system. Mirror embroidery need not be shunned by those who reject its amuletic properties, since such textiles can still be appreciated solely for their aesthetic value.
ConclusionMirror embroidery’s exact origins remain unknown. The lack of early extant mirror embroidered textiles has turned its origin story into a myth, with possible beginnings in Kathi sun worship and Persian workshops. However, India’s reputation for creating some of the finest embroidery in the world is solidified through this style. It stands apart. Not only is it brilliant, it is also considered by many to be particularly effective in repelling the evil eye. Mirror embroidery is still in popular use in India and remains a popular export, but its depth is greater than its captivating surface. Abhla Barat shows us what any item from fashion history can: how one minute detail can evidence entire empires, religions, and of course, people.

 

	


	
	

Notes: The Eyes of Animals
[1] John Irwin and Margaret Hall, Indian Embroideries (Ahmedabad, India: Calico Museum of Textiles, 1973), 83. 

[2] Irwin and Hall, Indian Embroideries, 86. 

[3] Saba Qayoom Leghari and Bhai Khan Shar, “The Art of Mirror Embroidery on Women’s Wear and Home Furnishing Products, in Two Villages of Sanghar Sindh,” Textile 19, no. 2 (2021): 134, https://doi.org/10.1080/14759756.2020.1783056.

[4] Yashna Chopra, “Everything You Need to Know About the Ancient Craft of Mirror Work,” Vogue India, August 15, 2019, https://www.vogue.in/fashion/content/mirror-work-indian-craft-history-lehenga-designs.

[5] Rosemary Crill, Indian Embroidery, (London: V&#38;amp;A Publications, 1999), 9.
 [6] Crill, Indian Embroidery, 9.[7] Irwin and Hall, Indian Embroideries, 5.

[8] Ibid.
[9] Ibid.

[10] Crill, Indian Embroidery, 12.
[11] Ibid.&#38;nbsp;


[12]&#38;nbsp;Shilpa Shah, The Shoemaker's Stitch: Mochi Embroideries of Gujarat in the TAPI Collection, ed. Rosemary Crill (Niyogi Books, 2023).

[13]&#38;nbsp;Crill, Indian Embroidery, 12.

[14]&#38;nbsp;Crill, Indian Embroidery, 9.

[15]&#38;nbsp;Irwin and Hall, Indian Embroideries, 2.

[16]&#38;nbsp;Irwin and Hall, Indian Embroideries, 84.

[17]&#38;nbsp;Victoria Rivers, “Decoding the Divine: Kathi Embroideries of Saurashtra,” Textile Society of America Symposium Proceedings (2000): 101, https://digitalcommons.unl.edu/tsaconf/783.

[18]&#38;nbsp;Irwin and Hall, Indian Embroideries, 6.

[19]&#38;nbsp;Leghari and Shar, “The Art of Mirror Embroidery on Women’s Wear and Home Furnishing Products, in Two Villages of Sanghar Sindh,”129.

[20]&#38;nbsp;Patricia Baker, Islamic Textiles (London: British Museum Press, 1995), 179.

[21]&#38;nbsp;Crill, Indian Embroidery, 11-12.

[22]&#38;nbsp;Leghari and Shar, “The Art of Mirror Embroidery on Women’s Wear and Home Furnishing Products, in Two Villages of Sanghar Sindh,”134.

[23]&#38;nbsp;Rivers, “Decoding the Divine: Kathi Embroideries of Saurashtra,” 103.

[24]&#38;nbsp;Leghari and Shar, “The Art of Mirror Embroidery on Women’s Wear and Home Furnishing Products, in Two Villages of Sanghar Sindh,” 125.

[25]&#38;nbsp;Leghari and Shar, “The Art of Mirror Embroidery on Women’s Wear and Home Furnishing Products, in Two Villages of Sanghar Sindh,” 133.

[26]&#38;nbsp;Leghari and Shar, “The Art of Mirror Embroidery on Women’s Wear and Home Furnishing Products, in Two Villages of Sanghar Sindh,” 134.

[27] Ibid.
	










	










































































































































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	<item>
		<title>Unwearable white shirt</title>
				
		<link>https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/Unwearable-white-shirt</link>

		<pubDate>Sun, 16 Nov 2025 21:06:07 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>The Fashion Studies Journal</dc:creator>

		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/Unwearable-white-shirt</guid>

		<description>&#60;img width="7031" height="3531" width_o="7031" height_o="3531" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/4aa0c893a7f02e259ff230ad009ac9451d4e6ed1e8c788240d338a3b014f917c/Banner_Muyo-Park.jpg" data-mid="240708127" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/4aa0c893a7f02e259ff230ad009ac9451d4e6ed1e8c788240d338a3b014f917c/Banner_Muyo-Park.jpg" /&#62;

	
&#60;img width="2250" height="2250" width_o="2250" height_o="2250" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/eaabf7ed3f4b3b7fde84142eb18f44238322c02346470e5bf603c80cd240c279/Headshot_Muyo-Park.png" data-mid="240708128" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/eaabf7ed3f4b3b7fde84142eb18f44238322c02346470e5bf603c80cd240c279/Headshot_Muyo-Park.png" /&#62;
Muyo Park, who trained as a fashion designer, is now a PhD student in the Department of Media Communication and Cultural Studies at Goldsmiths, University of London. Leveraging his background in fashion education and industry, he currently researches the colonial structures of UK fashion schools, with a particular focus on ‘international’ students, whose identities and diasporas are often exploited under the guise of creativity. He is also an associate of Fashion Academics Creating Equality (FACE) and contributes writings to ceimou, an independent designer brand based in Seoul, South Korea.
&#38;nbsp; 


	South Korea has used either the Korean pronunciation of the English word “shirts” or the term “waishatsu” to refer to dress shirts. The etymology of “waishatsu” is generally believed to stem from the Japanese-English pronunciation of “white shirt.” [1] The word “waishatsu” embodies a colonial hierarchy, as it represents the transplantation of Western dress culture in Korea under Japanese rule (1910-1945). The fact that it is still used in everyday life in the 21st century reminds me of what Elizabeth Wilson has identified as fashion’s paradox: fashion has been dismissed as superficial and philistine, yet it has exposed contradiction and hypocrisy. [2] Walter Benjamin had already noted this paradoxical aspect of fashion. For him, it served as a dialectical tool to deconstruct the myth of progress. This is because he discovered that fashion’s anachronistic potential disrupts linear historical progress. [3] In this temporal framework, fashion experiences an eternal recurrence of losing its aura and becoming outdated upon market appearance. Benjamin sought “motifs of redemption” in this temporality created by commodity fetishism within capitalism. [4] When applied to the case of “waishatsu,” this transcends the linear conception of time that seems to extend from the end of Japanese colonial rule to current South Korean society, disrupting the myth of progress and once again bringing back the forgotten history.

At the same time, it cannot be denied that “waishatsu” represents a case where colonialism is materialised through dress commodities, as this term unconsciously reproduces the colonizers’ language. Fashion, therefore, as a “reified, fetishised commodity and class ideology,” [5] conceals historical contexts, such as production conditions, through commodity enchantment. This phantasmagoria deceives and distorts fashion’s own revolutionary potential. The fashion of Benjamin’s modernity is of course different from that of today. His critique, however, remains valid in today’s fashion system wherein mass trends have been replaced by hyper-individualized micro-trends, and immediate consumption and fleeting illusions seem to have been further reinforced. Fashion contains a dialectical leap between repetition and novelty, transience and eternity. This tension holds the potential of history, “filled by the presence of the now [Jetztzeit].” [6] However, this revolutionary potential is structurally silenced in today’s fashion system. The revolutionary impulse has been reduced to a superficial obsession with mystery and spectacle. Its ever-changing essence has been diminished to a faithful agent of capitalism, delaying and nullifying the opportunity to explode the continuum of history.

Nevertheless, antithetical movements against fashion’s self-concealment are emerging. By juxtaposing fashion’s surface allure with its unconscious—the histories, labor, and origins it has overlooked or repressed—these movements attempt to overcome the limitations of that earlier avant-garde. From Benjamin’s perspective, these can be seen as pursuing fashion as a dialectical image. They deconstruct the auratic and mystified character of high fashion. By revealing its material, historical, and social composition, they aim to awaken their practitioners and audience from fashion’s illusion. However, critical fashion, which foregrounds a clear message as an antithesis to fashion, may be weakening its appeal to the masses by distancing itself from fashion. The problem with critical fashion is not whether fashion can be free from fetishism to perform its role as a critic. Rather, the issue lies in fashion's self-erasure of its own dynamics of fascination and desire through attempts to reject and escape fetishism for the sake of critique. This means that fashion abandons its own contradictory, revolutionary potential. It loses the possibility of interpreting the dialectical image of the current crisis through fashion itself. For fashion to create dialectical images, where past and present collide, it must maintain the very contradiction that critical fashion seeks to escape. Purging fetishism and desire means forfeiting the capture of repressed historical possibilities and bringing them into the present, what Benjamin noted as the “tiger leap.”




	


	&#60;img width="3507" height="2481" width_o="3507" height_o="2481" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d95fc5d581ee46e7ff71d498c6eb7526593e8df21c2172d7201172762d739459/Figure-1.jpg" data-mid="240903389" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/d95fc5d581ee46e7ff71d498c6eb7526593e8df21c2172d7201172762d739459/Figure-1.jpg" /&#62;Figure 1. Initial sketch for “White Shirts,” 2024. Pen on paper, 21 x 29.7 cm. Image by the author and Yun Jeong.




	
	Fashion's failure to achieve Benjaminian reading is not solely due to capitalism's logic and commodity fetishism's illusions. Equally important is its antithesis's abandonment of fashion's distinctive capacity to captivate popular interest, as meaning becomes limited by particular discourses and interpretations. It has consequently positioned itself as a product of institutionalised academia or criticism instead of reflecting upon its own self-contradictions. In short, discussions valid only within expert circles inevitably degenerate into internal echoes appealing solely to 'our' community. In this context, attempts to define ‘critical fashion’ as the designated alternative to capital-F Fashion are problematic; they stand outside the “ruin,” in Benjamin’s terms, to point at it, thereby dissolving the dialectical tension. We must uncover value as an allegory, as an historic relic that reveals the temporal passage and the semantic transformation, from within the very points we seek to criticize. [7]
My argument so far is, in fact, an autoethnographic reflection on my practice-based research with my work “White Shirts.” The work originated from questioning the Korean practice of calling dress shirts “waishatsu.” The work goes beyond pointing out the etymological error—calling all dress shirts "white shirts"—and attempts to recall the historical layers underlying this term's establishment. “White Shirts” sought to reflect upon the violence inherent in the specific manner of borrowing and transforming foreign language in dress culture, embedded in 21st-century Korean society. It particularly focused on the cultural subordination that continues to this day through unconscious, internalized colonial legacies, as foreign languages have been normalized. 
The work approaches this in two ways. First, it raises immediate questions through the mismatch between names and actual colors (see fig. 1), prompting reflection on the norms and historical background of Korean dress customs that have universally termed all dress shirts "white." This evoked the colonial linguistic discipline, force, and power that operated beyond mere nomenclatural error in the process whereby this term acquired universality. Second, the sleeve pattern was intentionally altered to form a Y shape. When the arms are down, this design causes a specific part of the sleeve to drape unnaturally (see fig. 2), creating a sense of awkwardness for the wearer. The construction lines and volume are deliberately distorted to induce a feeling of dissonance. Conversely, when the sleeves are lifted and the arms are spread in a Y shape, the drape settles into a stable, intended silhouette (see fig. 3). This enabled spectators to experience how colonial power invisibly and insidiously reached individual bodily sensations, postures, and unconscious linguistic customs through clothing.&#38;nbsp;
	


	&#60;img width="3024" height="4032" width_o="3024" height_o="4032" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/80d8827dbde6108b1f3446623580d1af3f73296d754d52cedbc33653d8d1b2bc/Figure-2.jpeg" data-mid="240903567" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/80d8827dbde6108b1f3446623580d1af3f73296d754d52cedbc33653d8d1b2bc/Figure-2.jpeg" /&#62;Figure 2. Detail of “White Shirts,” commissioned by Ana Mendes for&#38;nbsp;“Salmon Pantone Collection,” 2019-ongoing. Silk.&#38;nbsp;Photograph by the author.


	“It is the wearer’s embodied relationship with the garment that stands as fashion’s last materialist bulwark against its own phantasmagoria.”
	However, I came to realize that my design intention, such as the color and pattern cutting, embedded in the work “White Shirts” carried another form of violence. Because its critical message was overly clear and didactic, there was a risk of it becoming an object of dogmatic and contemplative understanding. This was particularly problematic given the conflict of interest inherent in my desire for the artwork to be both exhibited in a gallery while remaining within fashion's boundaries, a conflict that foreclosed the possibility of it being worn. My fixed message of "bringing the past into the present" constrained the possibility of new history and meaning through the wearer's present experience.
 
	


	&#60;img width="2882" height="3844" width_o="2882" height_o="3844" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9819272812c7182ad13ab57c871d873d9fb543f41d2913e89a28cca3a45ad7cf/Figure-3.jpeg" data-mid="240903698" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9819272812c7182ad13ab57c871d873d9fb543f41d2913e89a28cca3a45ad7cf/Figure-3.jpeg" /&#62;Figure 3. “White Shirts” held by the author, commissioned by Ana Mendes for “Salmon Pantone Collection,” 2019-ongoing, mixed media (silk, rods, hangers, second-hand ties), variable dimensions. Photograph by Yun Jeong.
 

	
	It is the wearer’s embodied relationship with the garment that stands as fashion’s last materialist bulwark against its own phantasmagoria. The concrete specificity of the garment—its texture, weight, and form, but also the entire process of wearing it, moving in it, and interacting with it in a living space—is the very foundation of an experience that can coexist with fashion’s dazzling spectacle while critically reading it. To contemplate the critical potential beyond the phantasmagoria of fashion, we must rely on this material concreteness, which encompasses the wearer's everyday use and bodily engagement. This provides the physical basis for avoiding submersion in clothing's homogenous narratives primarily established by designers and mediated through the capitalist trajectory. Thus, the “tactile appropriation” is the starting point for intervening non-linearly as Benjamin’s Jetztzeit. [8] This is an experience that internalizes visual stimuli and social meaning through everyday use rather than contemplating the designer’s vision.

	

	&#60;img width="3024" height="4032" width_o="3024" height_o="4032" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3e97d995b6dc395a6df8eae290db5fa3d7e4c200007b3cbe9f38e1add1140efd/Figure-4.jpeg" data-mid="240903894" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3e97d995b6dc395a6df8eae290db5fa3d7e4c200007b3cbe9f38e1add1140efd/Figure-4.jpeg" /&#62;Figure 4. Installation view of “White Shirts,” on display as part of Ana Mendes, “Salmon Pantone Collection,” 2019-ongoing, mixed media (silk, rods, hangers, second-hand ties), variable dimensions,&#38;nbsp;at Galleri 54, Gothenburg, Sweden. 30 August–22 September 2024. Photograph by the author.

	
	Critical fashion must emerge only from the process of the wearer constructing and interpreting meaning, and it is a place that we can never reach alone. Here, wearers become creative agents who create their own originals based on experiential fragments arising from direct encounters with clothing, rather than hastily relying on given references or interpretations. In the "White Shirts" case, a critical reading could begin with simply wearing it naturally and going about their daily life, setting aside the work's title or Y-shaped pattern. This represents fashion's unique, practical domain, which remains unreachable when “White Shirts” exists as unwearable artwork. My practice merely provided grounds for explaining how critical fashion can only be activated through wearers' presence by inversely calling their absence. Even though we cannot reach it on our own, critical fashion will have meaning in our role in repositioning designers and wearers. Fashion has long reflected on sustainability or the necessity thereof, yet must first acknowledge itself as exposing the emptiness of novelty and satisfaction promised by capitalist consumption. 

Walter Benjamin recalled that those who aimed rifles at clock towers during France’s July Revolution of 1830 were not foreign soldiers but French citizens who had served the monarchy until June. [9] In the same way, fashion must accept itself as an internal catalyst based upon its role of faithful service to capitalism.
	

	
	

Notes: Unwearable White Shirt
[1] Kyung-Mee Lee, “와이셔츠,” in Encyclopedia of Korean Folk Culture, n.d., accessed June 13, 2025, https://folkency.nfm.go.kr/topic/%EC%99%80%EC%9D%B4%EC%85%94%EC%B8%A0

[2] Elizabeth Wilson, Adorned in Dreams : Fashion and Modernity, New edition, (London: I.B. Tauris, 2003).

[3] Ulrich Lehmann, Fashion and Materialism (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2019).

[4] Walter Benjamin, “Central Park,” in Walter Benjamin: Selected Writings, Vol. 4: 1938–1940, ed. Howard Eiland and Michael W. Jennings (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2006), 179.

[5] Susan Buck–Morss, The Dialectics of Seeing: Walter Benjamin and the Arcades Project (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1991), 23.

[6] Walter Benjamin, “Theses on the Philosophy of History,” in Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt, trans. Harry Zorn (London: The Brodley Head, 2015), 245-55. (p. 252-253).

[7] Bainard Cowan Cowan, Bainard. “Walter Benjamin’s Theory of Allegory.” New German Critique, no. 22 (1981): 109–122.

[8] Walter Benjamin, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” in Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt, trans. Harry Zorn (London: The Brodley Head, 2015), 233.

[9] Benjamin, “Theses on the Philosophy of History,” 253. Benjamin quotes a witness to the July Revolution as follows: 

Who would have believed it! We are told that new Joshuas at the foot of every tower, as though irritated with time itself, fired at the dials in order to stop the day.
 
 
	


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		<title>Sustainable by Design</title>
				
		<link>https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/Sustainable-by-Design</link>

		<pubDate>Sat, 22 Nov 2025 03:06:12 +0000</pubDate>

		<dc:creator>The Fashion Studies Journal</dc:creator>

		<guid isPermaLink="true">https://fashionstudiesjournal.com/Sustainable-by-Design</guid>

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	&#60;img width="1431" height="1013" width_o="1431" height_o="1013" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/40435d69672d7197e9b1872da8b0455f4ffd4c974dfcaded9bb63428436cbaf4/Muhammad.jpg" data-mid="241281548" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/40435d69672d7197e9b1872da8b0455f4ffd4c974dfcaded9bb63428436cbaf4/Muhammad.jpg" /&#62;First Promotional shoot credit (@watermarkbyshuja)

	Muhammad Umer Rehman considers himself a maker, dedicating his career to teaching while recognizing the need for discourse surrounding fashion in the Subcontinent. His research focuses on innovation in design through zero waste and sustainability, alongside a commitment to preserving traditional practices. His work intersects fashion history and materiality, aiming to connect historical crafts with contemporary needs.
	Fast fashion has drastically changed how clothing is produced and consumed. Driven by consumer demand and globalization, garments are now produced in shorter cycles, often at the cost of labor rights and environmental health. The consequences include massive amounts of waste, unethical labor practices, and a disconnect between consumers and the making of clothing. Sustainable fashion seeks to reverse these trends by focusing on ethics, longevity, and environmental stewardship.

In Pakistan, a country with a deep-rooted history of textile and handloom traditions, fast fashion poses a threat to indigenous crafts. Simultaneously, these crafts present a significant opportunity to advance slower, more meaningful modes of fashion production, positioning them as alternatives to dominant industrial systems. U&#38;amp;I by Umerimrana is one such initiative that integrates traditional weaving, ethical sourcing, and contemporary design into a slow fashion model. This paper presents U&#38;amp;I as a case study to illustrate how such an approach can serve as a bridge between cultural heritage and sustainable innovation.
Literature Review
The fashion and textiles industry is widely regarded as one of the most unsustainable sectors today. Numerous scholars and institutions have outlined the environmental and cultural repercussions of fast fashion. The industry generates severe environmental impacts throughout the product lifecycle and is frequently associated with labor exploitation across global supply chains. [1] Simultaneously, the prevalence of fast fashion, defined by high-volume, low-cost, and standardized garments, fosters unsustainable consumption. Because these items lack lasting emotional or symbolic value, they are quickly discarded, generating higher levels of waste. [2]

Dasra’s report stresses the overwhelming impact that the rise of mass-produced clothing has had on traditional craft sectors. It notes that the widespread availability of cheap, factory-made garments has severely undermined the livelihoods of millions of artisans, pointing out that the mass consumption of inexpensive, trend-driven garments has significantly diminished the perceived value of handcrafted items. As fast fashion prioritizes constant novelty and low production costs, the cultural and material worth of artisanal work is increasingly overlooked. [3]

This shift in consumer perception has not only eroded appreciation for the time, skill, and heritage embedded in handcrafted goods, but has also jeopardized the survival of small-scale craftspeople whose livelihoods depend on sustained demand for their unique, labor-intensive creations. These artisans find themselves increasingly marginalized in a global economy that prioritizes speed, volume, and low cost over craftsmanship and sustainability. As the demand for fast fashion continues to rise, the space for handmade, regionally distinctive textile work continues to shrink, threatening not only economic survival but also the preservation of intangible cultural heritage.

Slow fashion, as defined by Štefko and Steffek, is not merely a response to the environmental and ethical crises posed by fast fashion—it is a holistic design and manufacturing philosophy that prioritizes sustainability, ethical labor practices, and the use of durable, high-quality materials. [4] 

Rather than chasing seasonal trends or mass-market appeal, slow fashion encourages thoughtful consumption, transparency in the supply chain, and a deep respect for the people and processes behind each garment. It advocates for a shift from quantity to quality, where clothing is made to last and valued as an investment rather than a disposable commodity. For a more holistic approach towards quality over quantity, Gwilt introduces a five-phase model of sustainable fashion design that challenges the conventional segmentation of the fashion development process, advocating instead for a more integrated approach. [5] Adding to Gwilt’s proposal of a sustainable model, Rissanen examines the traditional model and suggests a disconnect between design and production as a key issue contributing to material waste and inefficiency. Their work highlights the need for closer collaboration across all stages of fashion creation. [6]

According to McQuillan, in traditional garment construction, approximately 15% of fabric is typically discarded during the cutting process. [7] This loss, often overlooked in mainstream fashion production, underscores the inefficiencies built into conventional design methods and points to the need for more sustainable, waste-reducing approaches such as zero-waste pattern cutting. Sinha adds that smaller fashion enterprises have the potential to foster more holistic engagement from designers, enabling them to participate in multiple stages of the production process. [8] Taking that into account, expanded involvement positions designers as pivotal agents of change, capable of embedding sustainability and ethical considerations into the very foundation of fashion practices.

These frameworks shape the analysis of U&#38;amp;I’s work and its challenge to conventional norms. The five-phase model of sustainable fashion design shows the traditional, segmented method of design and production, which often results in inefficiencies and material waste—highlighting the limitations of conventional fashion design—and advocates for a more sustainable, integrated approach. U&#38;amp;I counters this by adopting more sustainable strategies, such as minimum-waste pattern cutting, and by embedding the designer throughout the entire process from initial concept to the final stages of production. This approach, as advocated by Sinha, Štefko and Steffek, and Rissanen, is promoted as a more sustainable alternative to conventional fashion systems, emphasizing holistic design involvement, ethical practices, and waste reduction throughout the entire production process.
Methodology
This study uses a qualitative case study methodology, focusing on U&#38;amp;I by Umerimrana. Data were collected through interviews with the founder-designer, process documentation, and observation of production practices. The research is contextualized through theoretical models of sustainable fashion and critiques of conventional design structures. Gwilt’s five-phase design model offers key insight into analyzing how U&#38;amp;I deviates from a traditional production process to consciously keep the designer involved from the first step till the last phase of production. [9]

U&#38;amp;I by Umerimrana: A Case Study

Initiative Overview
U&#38;amp;I by Umerimrana operates as a small but impactful effective fashion initiative that promotes sustainability through collaboration with weavers, the use of surplus materials, and waste-conscious garment design. Rather than labeling itself as a completely sustainable brand, U&#38;amp;I identifies as a work-in-progress that strives towards minimal waste and ethical production. The initiative primarily focuses on women’s clothing, utilizing a process rooted in material constraints and creative adaptability.

	


	&#60;img width="943" height="610" width_o="943" height_o="610" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d8e24489125137ed9ec2b3c9788f9ab2d2fd0d89a6be196aae08a128848aa6fb/Muhammad13.jpg" data-mid="241281552" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/943/i/d8e24489125137ed9ec2b3c9788f9ab2d2fd0d89a6be196aae08a128848aa6fb/Muhammad13.jpg" /&#62;Concept and mood board.

	“Rather than chasing seasonal trends or mass-market appeal, slow fashion encourages thoughtful consumption, transparency in the supply chain, and a deep respect for the people and processes behind each garment.”

	Integrated Design ProcessU&#38;amp;I deviates from mainstream fashion practices by ensuring that the designer remains involved from the earliest stages of development through to the final execution. This continuous engagement contrasts with Gwilt’s five-phase model of sustainable fashion design, which suggests that designers are traditionally limited to the initial research and analysis phase, remaining largely disconnected from production. In U&#38;amp;I’s process, the first phase begins with the selection of yarn—often determined by the availability of surplus from the local textile industry—which in turn sets the parameters for design. This inverse design approach, grounded in material availability, not only fosters creative problem solving, but also minimizes the need for new resource consumption. Furthermore, the designer’s close collaboration with artisans helps to revive traditional skills that are increasingly endangered due to industrialization and mass production.

Supporting Gwilt’s model is Rissanen’s critique of the traditional fashion production system as inefficient and unsustainable. [10] U&#38;amp;I challenges this conventional model by embedding the designer in every phase of the process—from thread selection to garment finishing—ensuring continuous involvement and greater accountability in both creative and production decisions.

&#60;img width="871" height="1148" width_o="871" height_o="1148" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e902dc9510f2cb4e4cdc71bcee3ae1a325e55bc4825422c8158549c374b4e3ce/Muhammad12.png" data-mid="241281554" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/871/i/e902dc9510f2cb4e4cdc71bcee3ae1a325e55bc4825422c8158549c374b4e3ce/Muhammad12.png" /&#62;
Five Phases of Design and Production (Gwilt, 2011:40).
&#60;img width="768" height="1024" width_o="768" height_o="1024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/318b5c0c25fd9f5839d9aa76ef21ab1efedd77c56a4c20d38ada5fa4026beb30/Muhammad11.jpg" data-mid="241281559" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/768/i/318b5c0c25fd9f5839d9aa76ef21ab1efedd77c56a4c20d38ada5fa4026beb30/Muhammad11.jpg" /&#62;
Leftover yarn procured from the local textile industry
Sourcing and Weaving
U&#38;amp;I’s reverse approach, grounded in material sourcing, reduces dependence on new resources and promotes creative design solutions. It repurposes surplus materials that would otherwise go to waste, while still maintaining high-quality standards particularly in terms of colorfastness and yarn durability. However, the unpredictable availability of surplus yarn colors and types challenges designers to adapt creatively. Rather than having the option of selecting yarns based on preferred thread count or color palette, designers must develop weaves based on what is accessible, often allowing material constraints to drive design innovation.

These creative limitations in textile design lead to the development of unique fabric patterns and foster innovation. For example, the image below illustrates the initial phase of the weaving process, where yarn spools are arranged on a spool rack according to the repeat size of the design. The threads used in this design range from a 60/1 (sixty single) to an 80/2 (eighty double) thread count. In the context of apparel fabric, a higher thread count results in finer fabric, while a lower thread count produces thicker fabric suitable for home and upholstery.

Understanding the thread count spectrum and its availability from the industry allows designers to arrange the threads in a manner that creates varied textures and contrasts within the fabric. This results in unique design qualities, where the thinness or thickness of the fabric varies within the same piece, adding visual and tactile interest.

Handloom weavers are also integral to the process. They work closely with the designer to produce fabrics in varied surface patterns such as stripes, checks, and jacquards. The fabrics are customized to fit garment specifications like breathability and drape, suited to Pakistan’s climate and consumer preferences.

However, handloom weaving presents a challenge when working with higher thread counts, such as 60/1 to 100/1 and above. During the weaving process, finer threads tend to break more easily, causing disruptions in the weaving process. To mitigate this issue, only threads with a count of 60/2 to 100/2 and above are typically used for the warp, while single-ply threads are reserved for the weft. This combination allows for smoother weaving with minimal thread breakage, ensuring the handloom operates efficiently and produces a consistent, high-quality fabric.

	

	&#60;img width="1200" height="1600" width_o="1200" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b3e29893f97cfa868860ca9ac9f3536887afc804bf4a19824d112cd082c933c2/Muhammad9.jpg" data-mid="241281563" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b3e29893f97cfa868860ca9ac9f3536887afc804bf4a19824d112cd082c933c2/Muhammad9.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="1200" height="1600" width_o="1200" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/577b6a95ccb59161ddb2ef4d840f6758be18f58bc7bc73113e364fe650946518/Muhammad14.jpg" data-mid="241281568" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/577b6a95ccb59161ddb2ef4d840f6758be18f58bc7bc73113e364fe650946518/Muhammad14.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="768" height="1024" width_o="768" height_o="1024" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e78c35a023622efde5a12d92d4e3c7d3043ec04785e45dc139a828f980649c16/Muhammad10.jpg" data-mid="241281570" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/768/i/e78c35a023622efde5a12d92d4e3c7d3043ec04785e45dc139a828f980649c16/Muhammad10.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="1024" height="576" width_o="1024" height_o="576" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/bda3b5cc553d7817be6fcc1a954a3d091dd19479a07f59ec27cf04bcb882b3cd/Muhammad6.jpg" data-mid="241281583" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/bda3b5cc553d7817be6fcc1a954a3d091dd19479a07f59ec27cf04bcb882b3cd/Muhammad6.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="1431" height="805" width_o="1431" height_o="805" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9136ea5864ca647733ef2bac48b0bad88dd4693faa80e2abfccf7c0fa8f1dd53/Muhammad5.jpg" data-mid="241281587" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9136ea5864ca647733ef2bac48b0bad88dd4693faa80e2abfccf7c0fa8f1dd53/Muhammad5.jpg" /&#62;Top: Making of the warp credit (@watermarkbyshuja)
Second: Knotting of new warp on jacquard loom credit (@watermarkbyshuja)
Middle: Jacquard loom History (Thames and Hudson) from a relative in France. Lynn, December 1996.
 Second from bottom: Prototype and fabric selection process
Bottom: Prototype and fabric selection process


	


	Garment Design and Waste Minimization
Buzzwords in today’s fashion industry—recycle, repurpose, reuse, zero waste—have long been embedded in the everyday practices of South Asian households. This culture of frugality and respect extends beyond clothing to cooking, carpentry, and all things handmade. The handmade is valued not only for its craftsmanship, but also for the time and care it represents. Omura Shige (1918-1999) was a distinguished essayist known for her deep appreciation of daily life and the cherished customs of Kyoto. She eloquently said, “Objects have life, so we must treasure them until their life is over. Her works reflect not only a profound connection to her heritage but also a compassionate perspective on the importance of preserving culture and simplicity in a rapidly modernizing world, something that resonates with the design philosophy and practice at U&#38;amp;I.

At U&#38;amp;I, garment inspiration is drawn from classic South Asian silhouettes, including the kurta, shalwar, and angarkha. These garments, rooted in centuries-old traditions, were, and in many cases still are, constructed using basic geometric shapes such as rectangles, squares, circles, and triangles. This method not only ensured simplicity and clarity in construction but also inherently minimized waste. Every cut-out or leftover piece had a purpose, often being reused to finish or embellish the garment. Remarkably, once the garment had served its intended purpose, it could be unstitched and reassembled, returning to its original yardage. This practice of reusing materials is a testament to circularity, predating modern sustainability efforts by centuries. As highlighted in Indian Costumes in the Collection of The Calico Museum of Textiles, the use of geometric patterns in South Asian garment construction has long emphasized both functionality and sustainability, with many garments designed to maximize fabric use and minimize waste. [11] Additionally, Sinha discusses how these traditional practices align with modern circular fashion principles, showcasing their inherent sustainability long before contemporary design frameworks were developed. [12] Instead of following transient fashion trends, the U&#38;amp;I design process listens to the fabric, the hands that weave it, and the environment from which it comes. There is an intentionality in every stitch—a dialogue between material, maker, and user.
	

	&#60;img width="409" height="727" width_o="409" height_o="727" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/49d8cd7db76db398f720020295191b6a15ff56e75ee86c1668df28ab97b05825/Muhammad1.png" data-mid="241281773" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/409/i/49d8cd7db76db398f720020295191b6a15ff56e75ee86c1668df28ab97b05825/Muhammad1.png" /&#62;Pattern layout and cutting phase to minimize wastage from off-cuts.

	
	U&#38;amp;I embraces a mindset of appreciation and intentionality by creating garments that are timeless in silhouette and comfortable in form. This approach not only ensures simplicity and clarity in making but also inherently minimizes waste.Their motivation stems from a deep sensibility toward traditional forms, reinterpreted through contemporary lenses and construction techniques to suit modern consumers. The process is grounded in smart design: cuts are planned to maximize fabric usage and minimize waste. Every garment considers width, shrinkage, and layout efficiency before any pattern is finalized. Prototypes and mock-ups are made to test construction feasibility, and off-cuts are repurposed as finishings, trims, or accessories—extending the life and value of every inch of fabric. As McQuillan notes, reducing cutting waste is critical to sustainable fashion practice. [13] U&#38;amp;I’s approach turns this principle into reality.

In doing so, they create not only garments but also systems of care, respect, and continuity, where clothing is more than style; it is stewardship.

	

	
	Analysis
U&#38;amp;I’s model challenges the linear, profit-driven fashion supply chain. Its integration of designer, weaver, and waste management reflects a holistic approach that is often missing in larger operations. The designer’s close collaboration with artisans revives skills that are in decline due to industrialization.

The brand also reclaims agency over fashion consumption by encouraging customers to consider the story and process behind each garment. In doing so, it fosters a deeper connection between wearer and maker—an essential pillar of the slow fashion philosophy.

	

	&#60;img width="1431" height="1431" width_o="1431" height_o="1431" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f0801e48ab866bd9c1a5d01ec34e0ee1d533c66795602f56f2776fe6dbe87093/Muhammad8.jpg" data-mid="241281975" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f0801e48ab866bd9c1a5d01ec34e0ee1d533c66795602f56f2776fe6dbe87093/Muhammad8.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="1431" height="1431" width_o="1431" height_o="1431" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a067958af57e3ec6146d91c61eedf040df88c7139ffc1f2c45cc37b43a86293f/Muhammad7.jpg" data-mid="241281807" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a067958af57e3ec6146d91c61eedf040df88c7139ffc1f2c45cc37b43a86293f/Muhammad7.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="1431" height="1431" width_o="1431" height_o="1431" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/612c768fa0a5a921954296a2c5527d65f30dd9682a19ec8f948ffedef0f2970e/Muhammad4.jpg" data-mid="241282249" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/612c768fa0a5a921954296a2c5527d65f30dd9682a19ec8f948ffedef0f2970e/Muhammad4.jpg" /&#62;Top: Ammad Hassan Ansari, 3rd generation weaver&#38;nbsp; Credits @watermarkbyshuja
Middle: Muhammad Saleem Ansari, master weaver Credits @watermarkbyshuja
Bottom: Fahad Hassan Ansari, 3rd Generation weaver Credits @watermarkbyshuja

	
	Moreover, U&#38;amp;I demonstrates that sustainable fashion can emerge organically from existing systems. By redirecting surplus material and working within constraints, the brand reduces environmental impact while retaining cultural specificity. Its example presents a scalable yet localized model that other designers and entrepreneurs could replicate. Sinha emphasizes that small enterprises enable designers to have a more holistic view of the production process, allowing for a stronger integration of sustainable practices from design to manufacturing. [14] This approach, which blends traditional craftsmanship with circular design principles, enables U&#38;amp;I to minimize waste and extend the longevity of their products, aligning with sustainability practices that predate current mainstream efforts in the fashion industry. Active involvement in design and making supports human wellbeing, a philosophy that resonates with the design process at U&#38;amp;I and supports their mission. Said simply, in the words of Csikszentmihalyi, happiness arises from creation and discovery. [15] It is this creative practice of problem-solving and finding ways to achieve one's goal that leads toward sustainable thinking and makes all the hurdles worthwhile.
	

	&#60;img width="640" height="960" width_o="640" height_o="960" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d9061d61d9fd7fd2d3b0567e27dc387f888940b22dd26ab90097fcda6d384b9f/Muhammad3.jpg" data-mid="241282682" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/640/i/d9061d61d9fd7fd2d3b0567e27dc387f888940b22dd26ab90097fcda6d384b9f/Muhammad3.jpg" /&#62;&#60;img width="640" height="960" width_o="640" height_o="960" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d5bb3ec402180882a18bb4edc19ba488419b0680f85e9f7f6a6a978813412f27/Muhammad2.jpg" data-mid="241282621" border="0"  src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/640/i/d5bb3ec402180882a18bb4edc19ba488419b0680f85e9f7f6a6a978813412f27/Muhammad2.jpg" /&#62;
Top: First fashion showcase at Pantene Hum Showcase of the final garments. Credit: Humshowcase media
Bottom: First fashion showcase at Pantene Hum Showcase of the final garments. Credit: Humshowcase media

	
	Conclusion
U&#38;amp;I by Umerimrana represents an effective model of slow fashion, deeply rooted in cultural heritage, sustainability, and community engagement. By emphasizing reuse, ethical collaboration, and conscious design, it offers a convincing alternative to the wastefulness of fast fashion. The initiative revitalizes traditional crafts within a contemporary context, demonstrating that sustainability does not require abandoning culture; it can, in fact, emerge from it.

This research highlights the critical role of designers in fostering a craft-centric, responsible fashion movement in Pakistan. As Sinha argues, deeper designer involvement across the supply chain is essential for creating ethical and sustainable systems, particularly in contexts where traditional craft knowledge is at risk. By advocating for waste reduction and accountability in the fashion industry, this work calls for a renewed appreciation of indigenous weaving traditions and echoes Dasra's findings on the need to support artisan livelihoods through sustainable development.

Furthermore, U&#38;amp;I’s design approach aligns with zero-waste methodologies outlined by McQuillan and Rissanen, which challenge conventional fashion paradigms and promote innovative pattern-cutting and material-use strategies. This integration of sustainability into the design process supports Gwilt’s assertion that responsible fashion must begin at the earliest stages of creation.

Ultimately, this case study emphasizes the need to rethink the fashion design process entirely, encouraging designers to reconnect not only with materials but also with the communities and cultural narratives behind them. Craft can serve as both an economic and ecological solution, bridging tradition and innovation in the service of a more sustainable future.

Notes: Sustainable by Design
[1] Eunsuk Hur and Katharine J. Beverley, “The Role of Craft in a Co-Design System for Sustainable Fashion,” in Making Futures: The Crafts as Change Maker in Sustainably Aware Cultures, Proceedings of the Conference, Dartington Hall, Devon, September 15–16, 2011 (Plymouth: Plymouth College of Art, 2013).
[2]&#38;nbsp;Kate Fletcher, Sustainable Fashion and Textiles: Design Journeys (London: Earthscan, 2008), cited in Eunsuk Hur and Katharine J. Beverley, “The Role of Craft in a Co-Design System for Sustainable Fashion,” in Making Futures: The Crafts as Change Maker in Sustainably Aware Cultures, Proceedings of the Conference, Dartington Hall, Devon, September 15–16, 2011 (Plymouth: Plymouth College of Art, 2013).
[3] Dasra: catalyst for social change and The Edmond De Rothschild Foundations, “Crafting a Livelihood: Building Sustainability for Indian Artisans,” January 2013, accessed August 25, 2025, https://www.dasra.org/pdf/resources/Crafting a Livelihood - Building Sustainability for Indian Artisans.pdf.
[4] Róbert Štefko and Vladimira Steffek, “Key Issues in Slow Fashion: Current Challenges and Future Perspectives,” Sustainability 10, no. 7 (July 2, 2018), https://doi.org/10.3390/su10072270.
[5]&#38;nbsp;Alison Gwilt, A Practical Guide to Sustainable Fashion (London: Fairchild Books, 2011).
[6]&#38;nbsp;Timo Rissanen, “Waste and the Re-fashioning of Fashion,” in Sustainability and Social Change in Fashion, ed. Leslie Davis Burns and Jeanne Carver (New York: Bloomsbury, 2015), 199–215.
[7]&#38;nbsp;Holly McQuillan, “Zero-Waste Design Practice: Strategies and Risk Taking for Apparel Design,” Fashion Practice 3, no. 1 (2011): 29–62.
[8] Pammi Sinha, “Creativity in Fashion,” Journal of Textile and Apparel, Technology and Management 2, no. 4 (2002): 1–16, https://www.researchgate.net/publication/237334691_Creativity_in_fashion.
[9]&#38;nbsp;Gwilt, A Practical Guide to Sustainable Fashion.
[10]&#38;nbsp;Timo Rissanen, “Fashion Design for Living,” in Sustainable Fashion: What’s Next? A Conversation about Issues, Practices, and Possibilities, ed. Janet Hethorn and Connie Ulasewicz, 2nd ed. (New York: Fairchild Books, 2015), 119–138.
[11]&#38;nbsp;B.N. Goswamy and Kalyan Krishna, Indian Costumes in the Collection of the Calico Museum of Textiles (Ahmedabad, India: Calico Museum of Textiles, 2002).
[12]&#38;nbsp;Sinha, “Creativity in Fashion.”
[13]&#38;nbsp;McQuillan, “Zero-Waste Design Practice: Strategies and Risk Taking for Apparel Design.”
[14]&#38;nbsp;Sinha, “Creativity in Fashion.” 
[15]&#38;nbsp;Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention (New York: HarperCollins, 1996), cited in Eunsuk Hur and Katharine J. Beverley, “The Role of Craft in a Co-Design System for Sustainable Fashion,” in Making Futures: Craft and the (Re)Turn of the Maker in the Post Global Sustainable Future, ed. Malcolm Ferris (Plymouth: Plymouth College of Art, 2013).
	
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