The (Final) Prologue Part III : The Trials and Tribulations of a Fashion Career and the Leap to Mexico

Ok, so finally I am reaching full-circle with this rather long prologue. Thanks for staying with me so-far, I hope you have enjoyed getting to know me better. I really appreciate the encouraging words from those who have written to me!

So, in the last post ‘Prologue Part II’, I left-off having graduated from Kingston University in 2008 with a BA (Hons) in Fashion Design, it was a tough three years, long days and nights, not exactly the student-life most people imagine- but I loved it (and many times hated it, having mini meltdowns along the way). I had specialised in menswear, I always liked to go against the grain, and this seemed like one way of doing it- the menswear students formed a small little club. I also relished the challenge of trying to make the seemingly mundane, interesting- how many new versions of shirts or jackets can you design? This at the time seemed far my exciting to me, getting technical and geeky with cutting, details and fabric, and not relying on décor and frills.

I had built a strong portfolio and with the support of my tutors, I soon got various internships and freelance gigs, the funnest being a 3 week freelance stint for a London branding agency, putting together concept and design for the kit of the British Cycling Team, sponsored by Sky and made by Adidas. However, as far as permanent jobs went, London Menswear was not saying much at the time. So, after a long and inspiring chat on the phone with one of my tutors (Mr. Ibi), we decided that I needed to go elsewhere. So I polished my portfolio, put together some promo-packs (these rather detailed folding envelopes that would contain my CV, samples of my work and business card...this was what you had to do to stand-out among the increasing mass of fashion graduates) and booked a flight to Milan for a 4-night stay. It had to be Milan, the mecca of Men’s design and luxury manufacturing, great food, a language similar to Spanish, and the home to many of the brands I most admired at the time, ie Prada, Marni (not Armani), Bottega Venetta, Niel Barrett and a less-known luxury street-wear brand Giulano Fujiwara.

Dad decided to join me for the jaunt, but by the end of the first night came down with a nasty bug and unfortunately had to go back home. I stayed, and spent the next 4-5 days with a map (no google-maps on the phone back then) walking the streets of Milan with my portfolio and promo-packs, knocking on design-studio doors and introducing myself in vain. In many cases it was like trying to get into a fortress, such as Prada and Marni, and in other cases it was much easier and less daunting. The big-brands, well I always knew it was going to be unlikely I would make it through their corporate rigors, but the smaller brands were welcoming. I achieved a couple of on-the-spot interviews, one with Bottega Veneta, and another with Alessandro Dell’Acqua. Both interested they kept in touch and received offers of internships and assistant jobs. But it was my encounter with the Italo-Japanese brand Giuliano Fujiwara that really captured my imagination. Their office was an open-plan loft space within an old courtyard, and the vibe was very relaxed. The clothes were racked up all around the studio and big, bold prints of recent advertising campaigns were hung on the walls- it all looked as cutting-edge and progressive as you could get at the time. Unfortunately the Creative Director was away in Tokyo when I stopped by, but the studio manager assured me that he would pass on my promo-pack.

I left Milan happy with my effort and the contacts I had made, but with nothing conclusive. Exhausted from all the traipsing, I slept in the morning after I arrived from Milan, but was suddenly awoken by my mum, there was a call for me, from Masataka Matsumura, the Creative Director of Fujiwara. I remember so well that sudden rush-of-blood, I jumped up to take the call. He was so friendly and complimentary, saying that he loved my work and that we had to meet, that he would be coming to London shortly. Masa didn’t make it to London, but instead flew me to Milan for an interview. We got on so well, we clicked on so many levels, from design, the creative process, to food and especially music. I soon received the official offer to join his design team and after completing my internship at Acquascutum, moved to Milan in Feb 2009.

It was a dream start to a fashion career, working for a small brand not limited by corporate and commercial rules (in fact I didn’t realise this at the time, I thought that this was how the whole industry was). I was the only European member of the 5-piece Korean-Japanese design team, and it was fascinating working with our cultural differences and finding our common ground. Masa invested a lot of trust and responsibility in me, despite my little experience- he responded to my young energy and eagerness. We really bounced off each other and spent many long days and nights- with good food, wine and music- developing the collections, preparing our runway shows for Milan Fashion Week, and shooting the look-books and campaigns over 5 seasons. It was fully hands-on and we were creatively free, designing sometimes very off-key pieces, which today we sometimes look back and laugh at. For example a long pleated-wool skirt with zips for men (it was bought by the one and only Karl Lagerfeld!)

Giuliano Fujiwara menswear, my last collection, 2010.

We used the best fabrics, and worked with the best tailors and manufacturers- working with this quality was a true privilege. We were generating hype in an underground, street-fashion scene, receiving coverage in high-end magazines and websites and were involved in collaborations with other brands- we even started developing a project with a famous fashion-loving rapper (you can probably guess who). Though it was never completed, it was fun whilst it lasted.

Despite the excitement of all of this and the active social-life I had established, I was fast outgrowing the job and city, and an opportunity at Burberry back home in London arose. I snuck-off to a couple of interviews in London and Milan, and was quickly offered a job as an assistant menswear designer. It was a dream-come-true, I had always aspired to work at the brand, which at the time had come full-circle from its cheapened ‘chav’ image to a forward-thinking luxury house. I got stuck-in from day one, researching, putting together concepts, developing the fabrics, woven and printed and designing predominantly shirts, trousers and jersey. I had stepped into the real-world of fashion business, it was a steep learning curve, having to become strategically, logistically and commercially minded. But my great team guided and nurtured me, and I was soon a consummate designer, fully involved in all meetings, presenting ranges, and traveling to Asia for fittings and product-development. I was promoted to be Menswear Designer of outerwear, a much coveted position, which I relished- I was designing outerwear, my favorite category (I was able to tap back into my geeky technical side) for one of the most reputable outerwear brands in the world.  However, it was a very intense, fast-paced environment; demands from above, erratic changes in direction from the ‘direction’, me being pretty hard on myself , and finding the product increasingly repetitive/uncreative- it all got the better of me and I bowed out after 2.5 years.

(I will forever be grateful what that place taught me, and for the amazing friends I made – they had a knack for hiring genuinely lovely and awesome people whom I still count as good friends today!)

I needed some time-out, and decided it was about time I did some proper traveling, get a dose of the real-world, different cultures and an injection of fresh inspiration. I spent the next 1.5 years traveling through India and over to South America (with an interim return to the UK, having picked up a nasty bug in India, and consequently fell into some freelance work via an old Uni friend). Traveling removed me from the glossy, but often self-sabotage fashion bubble, where people scrambled (still do) for the next step up the hierarchy and salary bracket, concerned for what is going to be the next ‘It’ product that will outdo the competitions’, battle with their own and other’s egos, and more often-than-not creatively repressed due to commercial demands, and generally over-worked. I saw real people, authenticity, creativity not only as cultural expression, but as a means of survival, and not just to fatten the pockets of shareholders even more. Whether it were items to represent their faith, practical objects for home-use, souvenirs to sell to tourists or clothes for everyday or ceremonial use.

With my students at the hospital-school in Bihar, India.

During my travels I volunteered at my friend’s mum’s eye-hospital in Bihar, India, probably the poorest region of the country. I taught english to the doctor and nurse apprentices, as it was essential for their studies- and also threw in some art and fashion design classes. It was so fulfilling seeing the enjoyment and real appreciation of the students. In early 2015, I also volunteered in Guatemala for 6 weeks as a designer for the weaving cooperative Trama Textiles (I was only popping over the border for 5 days originally, and fell into this job). Here I experienced my first proper working interaction with indigenous weavers. I was given the task to develop some new products that could be made with their existing textiles to sell on their etsy shop and reach new customers. It involved working through ideas with the weavers, listening to their opinions, overcoming limitations, and finding the right local makers to make the product. Here I also witnessed how they worked with existing clients, who like I am now, were commissioning them to make fabrics for their own brands. I saw the challenges that this presented both sides- conceptual misunderstandings, cultural differences and delays, but I also witnessed the satisfaction when projects were successfully completed.

Seamstress at Trama Textiles making products from their fabrics.

I had a go at weaving myself on a back-strap loom, all I made was a simple stripe scarf, but this hands-on experience made me realise just how hard it is and take my appreciation of the craft to the next level. The intense concentration that it requires, the patience, adapting your physical posture to increase or decrease the tension of the weave, counting threads, detangling - eventually it was like entering into a meditative state, pure focus on the loom, I found myself shutting everything else out.

One of the products I designed for Trama Textiles using their hand-woven fabric

Trying my hand at back-strap loom weaving!  

I crossed back over the border to Chiapas, Mexico and started researching local weaving associations, buzzing from the last 6 weeks and wanting to explore the possibilities of collaborating with Mexican artisans in the future. I knew I was not ready to start there and then, but from my experience in Guatemala and having an understanding of the sociological aspects of indigenous Mexico, I knew it would be a case of slowly building relationships so I needed to start now. This is when I made contact with Jolom Mayaetik, a well-organised women’s textile cooperative based in San Cristobal de Las Casas, but with a network of roughly 450 weavers and embroiderers across the regions of Chiapas and Oaxaca. I met one of the non-indigenous directors along with it’s indigenous President, Elvia, and introduced myself, explained my aspirations and my sincerity, but was clear in stating that I was not yet ready- you should never give false expectations when dealing with artisans. I also met Don Marco, the master weaver whom the co-op employs to train young female apprentices on the pedal-loom in the small workshop. I also took this opportunity to ask about their own aspirations as individuals and as a group, their experiences of working with previous customers, their fears and hopes of working with outsiders and the spiritual meaning of their work. I was not just there to talk prices.

With seeds sewn and my sights on setting-up some sort of artisan-made fashion brand, I knew that I needed more financial security to be able to do so along with more professional experience and confidence. So, I went back to the England to start the job-hunt. I was open-minded as to where I would end up, company and location, after-all I could not be too picky as I had been some time out of the industry and was not in a position to place great demands. One thing I was sure of, is that I did not want to go back into menswear, there was no soul left in it for me. But this was the challenge, I was at a point in my career that to side-step into a womenswear role was almost impossible in high-fashion- so the head-hunters told me, unless I was willing to take a big pay-cut and slip down the hierarchy- which I had worked so hard to climb. I interviewed as far as China, was offered a job with a big pay-check, but regardless, it did not feel right, so I turned it down. Really needing to get back to work, I remembered previous contact I had had with a big Spanish high-street brand. They had contacted me several years back interested in my Outerwear experience, but in a womenswear role. They were clearly open-minded. So, I got back in touch with them, and they were quick to reply, saying that they had a role available and would love to get me in. I started the interview process and they sold the position to me with bells and whistles, it seemed like a dynamic and hands-on job with copious resources and creative freedom. After 3 interviews and a project, I was offered an attractive package, and soon relocated to Spain.

This is where I get a little controversial with myself. I was in personal conflict about working for a high-street brand- the biggest in the world in fact - meaning mass-production and questionable ethics- environmental and sociological. Of course, working in the glossy head-office, I was blinded from the outside realities. But still, I asked myself over and over, what impact my work would be having elsewhere? But then I could be considered a great hypocrite, I still took the job, and all it’s benefits. There were various reasons that allowed my conscience to continue in the job- it was a means-to-an-end (work hard, save hard for real goals, ‘convert not-so-good into good’); it was democratic and acessible and not just for the rich; it would be CV gold and would provide me a long-term safety net, but probably the most significant rationale is that I would really be able to see from inside how a company of this magnitude works- the good and the bad. I would really be able to speak from experience rather than throw around opinions and criticisms without grounds.

There are so many arguments- for and against- I could go into regarding the implications of my work at a mass-produced fashion brand, but you would be reading for hours-on-end. If you are curious regarding my experiences and perspective, please do not hesitate to ask. I will gladly reply. Let’s just say that the head-office is not full of badly-intentioned people wanting to destroy the world with no care in the world (on the contrary, many lovely, caring, intelligent people), but there is a certain lack of conscience, as they are carried away and caught-up in the machine of demand, aesthetics and consumption.

I will give you a couple of examples of issues that caused me frustration. The attitude ‘it was for yesterday’- the boss breathing down your neck; to avoid her wrath, you would scramble around throwing things together without the time to think properly, meaning that collectively you would produce 10 options too many, just to cover your back. Meaning excessive waist and stress on the entire system. This is pretty normal in the industry, but was next level at this company. Also, though I was never really involved in embroideries (thank goodness, it would have pained me) we would receive packages on a daily basis of samples, some Chinese or Indian factory knock-off of some indigenous designs from cultures far-and-wide. No one would question the origin of these designs, and without a care in the world would cut-and-paste them across endless tops and skirts. No regard for intellectual property or copyright- hence why I never stepped foot in the office in one of my gorgoeous ‘huipils’ (traditional flat-cut top or gown), as it would have been immediately seized for copy.

The final straw for me was my experience working on the ‘ethical’ collection. I had been expressing interest for a long time with the director to take it on, and was so proud when she finally decided to entrust me with it. It became everything to me, my opportunity to push a positive agenda within a mainstream fashion beast. I was utilising sustainable fabrics especially developed for the project by great mills; I worked so hard, making very wearable contemporary pieces and every time I met with the directors, they loved what I was doing. Sustainable fabrics, with good reason, take a lot longer to produce, so I needed to finalise the options with the bosses asap. They kept on putting it off, more and more, until it was too late to order the fabrics. It was clear that it was not their priority, other things had become far more important, other collections and campaigns. After-all, they said people were not truly bothered about sustainable fashion, it was not going to sell, so it fell to the bottom of the list. Next I knew, the bosses were taking pieces from my ‘ethical’ collection and mass-producing them in cheap polyesters- pretty soul-destroying. With this, the urge for me to get out and follow my Mexican dream became so much stronger.

I left Spain latter 2017, sad to leave my amazing friends and my little life I had made for myself there, lovely locals, great food and sea-air, but happy to leave the company. Straight from Spain I went on a reccy to Mexico for one month after having done thorough research and tracking down some promising artisans. I travelled in Chiapas and Oaxaca, re-connected with Jolom Mayaetik after almost 3 years, and met new weavers, often having to take various forms of transport to reach the weavers in tiny towns or villages far into the countryside. I was received mostly with warmth, on a couple of occasions with suspicion, but all-in-all made some genuine connections and delved deeper into the culture and it’s significance. I felt so inspired. It just felt so right, this was what I was meant to do.

Vero, an apprentice at the pedal-loom workshop at Jolom Mayaetik

An indigenous weaver in a remote village in Oxchuc, Chiapas.

After the reccy, I returned to England to spend time with my friends and family and work freelance, dividing my time between my client’s projects and my own business-planning. It soon became obvious that I was not going to be able to make things work from the England, it did not make financial or logistical sense- a move to Mexico was inevitable, and I was more than happy to make it. For years I have wanted to move back and experience living in Mexico as an adult. The increase in cultural and creative movements has been so exciting, the authenticity in traditional and modern street-culture, and the zest for life- you cannot put into words and it reels you in. So, summer 2018, and here I am- and so far, absolutely no regrets! I am fulfilling so many life-goals, not just passing through in Mexico, spending quality time, real time, living everyday city-life, discovering new neighborhoods, merrily riding around on my bike through the bustling streets, Sundays with my 94 year-old grandmother, cherishing seeing my brother more than ever, as he has lived here for 15 years and is now married to an inspiring woman. And I have thrown myself full-on into this project right from the beginning- bureaucracy, logistics, networking, meeting fellow creatives and exploring the many local resources that if you look hard enough are plentiful! So much still to figure out, but I am on an exciting journey- lets hope that it lasts and soon bares many fruits!