This is Connecting the Dots, a series in which writer José Criales-Unzueta looks at how fashion, pop culture, the internet and society are all interconnected.
We have duly reported on the dire state of the wholesale fashion business. We’ve discussed its implications and how designers are charging forward by emphasising direct-to-consumer channels, launching made-to-measure categories, or leaning into sponsorships and collaborations. But ruminating on the many related discussions I’ve had with designers this season, I’ve found a particular through line.
Designers — young, independent, emerging, whatever we’d like to call them — are ready to grow up.
That would mean to scale their businesses and to reinforce their operations; but also to level up personally. “Now that I’m 30, the challenge just for challenge’s sake doesn’t really resonate with me,” says Connor McKnight when I visited him earlier this month to review his spring 2025 collection. “I’m getting better at identifying what is working for me and letting that become my focus.”
He was talking about leaning into his strengths — menswear, tailoring — but also, I sensed, about how he runs his business. Running uphill just for fun stops being amusing once you hit a certain age. He’s not alone. Many of his generational cohorts are on the same page, I’ve come to learn. This outlook is indeed related to the faltering retail model, but it is also an indicator that this class of designers is ready to hit the next milestone. But what needs to change to get there? These are scrappy, off-centre, oftentimes-punk independent labels whose brands revolve around singular approaches. Can they grow up and stay niche?
‘Emerging’ is not a dirty word, is it?
The industry has a hard time letting go of the ‘emerging’ label. I often find that folks actually mean ‘niche’. Think of Collina Strada, Eckhaus Latta or Vaquera, all of which have been around for over a decade. Have they not ‘emerged’? They’re perhaps scrappier and unusual in their output, but they are well-known labels with respectable businesses. Just because their customer bases skew younger or because they haven’t scaled up as quickly as, say, Jacquemus, which is currently celebrating its 15th year, it doesn’t mean they belong in the same category as labels in their infancy. (Collina Strada launched in 2009, Eckhaus Latta in 2011 and Vaquera in 2014.)
It can certainly play against designers to be typecast as emerging. Labels in this category are taken less seriously and tend to be deprioritised by the media and retailers, and it denotes a sense of waiting for a real arrival. Being seen as the new kid on the block is exciting and can propel designers to new heights — but nobody wants to be Peter Pan.
Except that as these very names and others including Luar in New York or Chopova Lowena in London have proven, it can be used to your advantage. Labels can leverage the idea of being ‘emerging’ to create excitement, which can attract collaborators and partners with deeper pockets, as my Vogue Business colleague Maliha Shoaib reported earlier this week, now that fundraising and investment options have shrunk. The industry, and by extension, the public, are generally more forgiving with labels they perceive as in development, which means that they can be more nimble with their presentation formats and cadence.
How do ‘cool kids’ grow up?
Still, perception is an important part of success. “Shooting ourselves in the foot isn’t really where we see the future for our lives and this brand,” says Vaquera co-designer Patric DiCaprio after he and Bryn Taubensee presented their latest collection. He and Taubensee have started to prioritise making their collections — and how they show them — more digestible. It’s not about going against their punk roots, but about repackaging them in a way that buyers and the media can not only see growth and potential, but maturity and sellability. Set yourself up for success; keep the runway playful but the clothes accessible.
The pair launched a core line they’re calling “new basics” for spring. The idea, they explain, is to preserve their subversive style but merchandise it through items that are easier to buy and wear, meaning more straightforward pieces that preserve their punk spirit but sell at lower price points. They are also launching sunglasses, footwear and a monogram handbag line. This, for designers, is where the money is made — and launching these ventures is a sign that maturation is happening.
This fresh outlook was fleshed out at Vaquera’s spring 2025 show. While the angsty spirit remains, it’s easier to discern what’s what on the runway, which makes the product easier to desire. The approach is not dissimilar to what Hillary Taymour has done at Collina Strada, venturing into jewellery and expanding her range with more affordable novelty tees and hoodies, or what Eckhaus Latta has done by finessing its covetable knits and denim. Still niche, but more desirable and accessible. Making iconoclastic clothes for the runway can only get one so far.
Most young designers who begin to go against the grain eventually find themselves falling in line. As one cult menswear designer once told me, “I’d rather spend time making the clothes special and preserving their integrity than reinventing the way the business operates.” But does that make a business?
Michael Stewart of Standing Ground is a particularly compelling case. The designer recently received the inaugural Savoir-Faire award at the 2024 LVMH Prize for his intricate made-to-order eveningwear. He flew solo this London Fashion Week after three seasons with incubator Fashion East, yet he doubled down on his bespoke-only approach. This outlook, popular with independent labels, is an opportunity for him to resist pressure and create a line for wholesalers. An alternative but tried-and-true way of retaining control and scaling mindfully is to stay small, and in the case of Standing Ground this works because Stewart has gained recognition for his fantastic evening propositions. Dressing celebrities and hosting an occasional runway show will feed into what can potentially be a robust bridal and custom business, similar to how Jackson Wiederhoeft has developed his eponymous line in New York.
I leave you with a final example. This week I also spoke with Tristan Detwiler, the designer of Stan. Detwiler broke into the scene a few years back when videos of him making clothes out of antique fabrics went viral on social media. There were rightful comparisons with Bode, and several related think pieces, but to his credit, Detwiler has since turned his project into a functioning label. He now presents a collection every season, often at the New York Men’s Day showcase during New York Fashion Week. His brand is primarily based on one-offs, though he recently started working with deadstock fabrics as an alternative to scale his business and offer wholesale partners styles they can buy into. He explained that this approach didn’t quite do the trick for him. His passion, and the ethos of his label, revolve around the “intrinsic stories” carried by the materials he uses, so offering something else seems perhaps derivative. Instead, Detwiler has begun to source antique materials he can find in larger quantities and is in the early stages of producing pieces in an approach that is truer to his original concept, the one that put him on the map in the first place.
It may be that these designers are my generational cohorts and that I can relate to their desire to both retain their ingenuity as they become more established and choose the path of least resistance as they become older. But if we take the likes of Thom Browne and Rick Owens as examples, perhaps it is possible for labels to stay niche as they scale and grow up. In the words of Charli XCX: “I think about it all the time.”
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More from this author:
How to become the next ‘It’ brand
New York Fashion Week doesn’t need guest designers to survive
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