To mark the start of couture week, on the 27 January, 400 individual Margiela pieces dating from 1988 to 1994 (represented in 276 lots) are going to auction. Many of the pieces are from the collection of Picozzi’s daughters Angela and Elena, who began wearing Margiela’s early work as teenagers in the late 1980s. 

From full runway looks to individually cellophaned pieces, as well as never before seen toiles, prototypes and pattern pieces, the collection amassed by the Picozzi family is a fashion nerd’s dream. There are even folders of sketches and notes in Margiela’s own hand. The most intriguing pieces in the sale, however, aren’t labelled under Martin Margiela, but a mysteriously titled project called ‘!’: a project that lasted only one season, helmed by Martin Margiela with Graziella Picozzi as co-pilot. 

“It was only one collection made up of 60 pieces and was very different from what people were used to buying, so it didn't sell so well,” Graziella explains. It did, however, set the foundations for a collaboration that would define the terrain of 90s fashion and change how we think of a fashion brand forever. Graziella was the behind-the-scenes wizard of Margiela’s most daring cuts. 

We sat down with Graziella and her daughter Angela ahead of the auction to get the story behind the world’s most comprehensive collection of Margiela’s early work – plus what it’s really like to work with the man himself.

How did this collection come together?
Angela: Well, the first thing is that this is not an archive. These are garments that I was wearing at the time. I fell in love with them – of course because of my mum working on them, but also because they were so different from the clothes I knew before. They were a completely new story. We don't actually know how many pieces we have, but this auction is [composed of] around 400 pieces.

What age were you when you got your first piece?
Angela: 17 or 18. I know, I was very lucky!

Graziella, how did you meet Martin Margiela?
Graziella: In the 1980s, fabric suppliers played a very important role in the industry, and Mr. Roberto Fantoccoli, from a prominent textile company in Como, introduced me to Martin because they were both working with Jean Paul Gaultier. He immediately recognised Margiela's genius and suggested that I collaborate with him.

What was he like? 
Graziella: He was different from other designers. He could explain the need for every single detail. Everything was useful, there was a purpose for everything. His mind was amazing, because I really had to go against the rules of tailoring. Together we were trying to find solutions, technical solutions, to give birth to his creativity. It was very emotional!

He always expressed his concepts with simplicity and clarity – there was no need for unnecessary words. He knew exactly what he wanted. His style was defined and unmistakably clear. He was capable of transforming fashion with simple concepts. From the moment I met him, I knew he was someone special. Working with him, everything was different. From the cuts to the zips, everything was completely disruptive. 

What can you tell me about ‘!’?
Graziella: Margiela approached me and he wanted to create a brand. It was my first collaboration with Martin and we created an incredible collection. We decided after the first season, it was only going to be one season, and then we decided to open the brand called Martin Margiela. In order to have the space to create this collection, we decided to close ‘!’ and start Margiela.

It was only one collection made up of 60 pieces, and was very different from what people were used to buying, so it didn't sell so well. But the funny thing is that actually the first collection of Martin Margiela was sold only to one customer in the world. 

So how many pieces were produced from the first Martin Margiela collection? 
Graziella:  Two, maybe three of each design. 

Wow. Do you think back then you realised that you were involved in something that was going to change fashion forever?
Graziella: Once we had finished production and saw all the garments together, I understood that we were revolutionising the fashion industry. When he was creating that silhouette and putting together garments, it really was very incredible. 

So why do this auction now?
Angela: I really want to celebrate my mother’s work. She's the person that has always worked behind the scenes. I’ve always said that even if you have a good designer but a bad pattern cutter, nothing will come out right. It's important for this industry to understand that it's not just made by one person, but a group of people. For [Graziella], it is different. She really felt she wanted to see the garments on people again.

Credits
Words: Eilidh Duffy
Photography: George Mavrikos, courtesy of Kerry Taylor Auctions and Maurice Auction

Your new film, Mulholland Drive, is rather impenetrable, a mystery with no clear resolution. What inspired it?
Mulholland Drive, like anything, is based on a set of ideas. I always try to tune into those first ideas and let them talk to me, and follow them wherever they lead. From that I develop a story populated by characters. I guess the initial spark for the film was the name, Mulholland Drive; the signpost in the night, partially illuminated for a couple of moments by the headlights of a car. It was that simple.

Does the place actually exist?
Yeah, it's a road in Los Angeles that goes along the crest of the Santa Monica mountains. It's a beautiful road that gives onto vistas over the valley on one side, and Hollywood on the other. It's a mysterious road - really dark at night and, unlike so many other spots in LA, it has remained the same through the years. I find myself inexplicably drawn to it.

Mulholland Drive was originally made for TV: how did that impact the style?
It was originally a pilot, so by necessity it needed to be open-ended. You set many things in motion, but you don't have to close the door. I did this pilot and at the same time I was working on The Straight Story. It was rushed and I wasn't happy with what we did in terms of finishing the pilot for ABC (TV Network). They hated it. That opened the door for other possibilities: in my experience, if a story wants to be a certain way, then that's what it will be. So it wasn't a total letdown. In fact, there was a little air of euphoria at its rejection for TV, and I pay attention when I get a little air of euphoria. The main male lead, Adam, is a film director, forced to change his work due to business expediency. 

Have you shared his experience of that?
I think most directors have. I always worry about someone forcing me to do things because as a director I identify so much with my work. If certain demands go against what I believe to be correct, it's a horror. Being somewhat paranoiac, I worry about these things. If you don't have final cut you can lose your way very quickly and die the slow, agonising death.

Adam's story shows the more manipulative elements inherent in directing - were you drawing attention to the same in your own work?
I don't believe in manipulating anyone. I try to remain true to the original ideas for a project, and if I fall in love with them, I can only hope that others will as well. Sometimes I'm wrong, but the main thing is that film is not about manipulation for me. It's about being true to the original ideas and then acting and reacting as I try to make them coherent.

Is the character based on yourself?
No! No movie can tell everything about anything. This particular story touches on some small part of film making. Sure, Adam is a film director, but there's another film director in there too - it's just a small part of a particular story I'm telling. Some people have seen satirical elements in the film, particularly with regards to its skewered take on Hollywood. I hadn't really thought about it as such, but there is some satire swimming around in the mix. I certainly didn't set out to include any, but ideas come with many threads. Just like life, there is sometimes laughter in the morning and tears in the afternoon - you never know what is going to happen. It's beautiful to move through different moods and feelings based on the ideas that come along. The ideas inevitably string themselves into a whole so that there is some sort of balance.

It's a perplexing film. What do you hope the lasting impression will be for audiences?
I'm hoping that they enjoy the ride and I'm hoping that their intuition kicks in, this machinery we all have for sensing things we aren't necessarily able to articulate. Abstractions can exist in cinema - and that is one of its greatest powers, for me. I love the abstract feel of it and I hope that others do as well.

Where do you draw your ideas from?
Well, from my mind, I guess. But that's not necessarily as simple as it sounds. The mind is a beautiful place, but it can also be pitch dark. How big the mind is, we do not know. Ideas sometimes come into my mind that make me crazy. I don't know where they come from, and I don't know what purpose they serve. Recently I have been thinking about ideas as fish, and that they are always swimming around us. Once in a while we catch one, and they pop into the conscious mind and explain everything to us. That's a magical thing and we'd be nowhere without these beautiful ideas.

Do you ever cry at your own films?
I cried so much during The Straight Story and The Elephant Man. Some of my reviews made me cry as well. My editor will tell you I sit sometimes in the edit room and weep. Emotion is a thing that cinema can really communicate, but it's tricky. Here, the balancing of elements once again is critical. A little too much of something and you kill the emotion, too little of something else and it just doesn't happen. In The Straight Story the challenge was all about trying to find that tender balancing point.

Your involvement in every element of the film process is legendary. How important do you feel this is to the final product?
In film I feel that it's just common sense that every element is critical to the whole. One has to work very hard going back, checking ideas and the feelings that come with the ideas, and working every single element to try to get them as close to 100 percent perfect as you can. Nothing in this world is perfect, but one tries nonetheless, so that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. There is a magic that happens sometimes when each element is correct, and that's what one works towards.

With beautiful corpses and lesbian sex scenes littering the film, do you think Mulholland Drive will make it onto screens in the US?
Film needs to show all aspects of life, so it will get by the censors, but it will be rated 'R'. I'm okay with that. My take on censorship is this: everything should be allowed to be shown. The key is to let audiences know just how far a film is going. Then they can make the choice to go and see it or not.

People are labelling it as Film Noir. Are you comfortable with that?
There may be Film Noir elements to it, but I think that there are a couple of genres swimming about in it. For me, in fact, it's a love story. It's not like you start setting out to do a certain type of film - the ideas tell you what type of film it's gonna be, and by the time you realise what that is, it's almost done. It's strange how films unfold as they go.

Are you in the arthouse or commercial film gang? 
There's room in the world for all kinds of cinema should all be available to the public on the big screen. At least in America, it's harder and harder to see arthouse films. The cineplexes play the same 12 films across the country and the arthouses are dying. But things go in waves, and tomorrow it may be an entirely different story.

Which camp are your films in?
I don't know - I guess I'm on the fringe, somewhere.

Credits
Words: John Dunning
Photography: Matt Jones, from i-D Issue no. 274 (The Wild Women Do, March 2007)

Currently on display at Melrose Botanical Garden, ICANDY immortalises the likes of Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Jackson, Audrey Hepburn, Cher and E.T. in the smears, crumbs and drizzles left behind after Angelyne’s meals at various LA restaurants. Curated by Lizzie Klein and Sophie Appel, each work is kissed in gold glitter with the artist’s signature.

Like a fortune teller reading tea leaves, the images come to Angelyne in a vision: “When I finish eating, things just appear on my plate, and then I work with it,” she says, her voice purring. “For example, Michael Jackson. I went to The Coffee Bean [& Tea Leaf] and I asked for coffee grinds. For some reason I brought a giant peach [with me, too]. If you look at Michael Jackson, you can see the little tiny nose is the stem. It’s incredible because it’s the spirit of the person that comes to the plate.” 

The inspiration is a constant, yielding a catalogue of hundreds of “food art” portraits from over the years. Take, for example, The Wolfman, one of her personal favourites: “The cut on his cheek—it was a cheese enchilada and when I cut it, the sauce came through. I believe it was at El Torito or Acapulco. I really like Mexican food.”

Some faces are more welcome than others, of course. “I’m not seeking to do a food painting or art painting of anyone,” she says. “Like Cher – you would think I’m a fan of her, wouldn’t you? I think she’s an icon but I’m not a fan of her music, her voice, her looks, all of it. She’s just too square for me!” As the artist tells it, there’s a spontaneity, a channeling of energy that flirts even with the divine. “I think there are angels that come through the food,” she says. “Two nights ago, I had to sleep at my studio because of the fires. At 3:00 in the morning, I woke up and started making a picture and the next day, the winds died down.”

While some may chase fame through carefully engineered images, Angelyne finds lasting beauty in fleeting coffee grounds, cabbage, and enchilada sauce. The results are appropriately imperfect, always intriguing portraits of Hollywood legends – made by one of their own.

'ICANDY' is on view at Melrose Botanical Garden on Fridays and Saturdays from 12-4pm, and by appointment, through 4 February.

Credits
Words: Kristin Anderson
Photography: Angelyne

What’s your name? Keiran Perry.

Where do you live and where are you from originally? I’m from an old weaving town called Burnley in Lancashire, but live in North London now.

How do you describe what you do? I’m a photographer, but I see myself sometimes as an anthropologist. 

Where did the idea for the project originate from?
During COVID, I built this big shed in my back garden and moved all my things into it. Then I rented my house out and buggered off in my van. My friend Lizzie is a filmmaker, and she’d come across this traveling circus that had been stranded in Morecambe. So I headed to Morecambe Promenade and arrived at night. It was pitch black and pissing it down with rain, sideways pelting in from the sea. All I could see was a big top tent and these caravans in the darkness. A big dog stepped out of the shadows of this tent, and it picked up a hot dog on the ground, covered in mustard and ketchup, and swallowed it whole. A voice cried out from one of the caravans, and it belonged to Julia, the daughter of the circus owners. She invited me in, and we had a cup of tea. The next day she said she would introduce me to everybody. I asked if I could maybe hang out for a couple of days and take some pictures. I thought I'd maybe stay for a couple of days, but I stayed, that first time, for two weeks.

Did you have any revelations during the creation of it and, if so, what were they?
The mind thinks and the heart knows. Something really difficult might be happening, but rather than seeing it as an issue, I started to see it as a gift. 

Can you recall a memorable figure you met while making it?
One person who really stuck in my heart was Valeria. She’s a dancer and choreographer from Ukraine, and her mother and grandmother fled the country to join her in the circus after the war.  Valeria has a baby now with the son of the circus owners. There was a moment when Valeria’s mum picked up Valeria’s daughter and gave her a kiss. I had my camera with me, and caught the shot.

What about the project moved you?
When I first came across this circus, they were quite DIY. It reminded me of my time growing up, in a way. I grew up in a bit of a makeshift community. My mom was sort of an anarchist, with an anarchy tattoo on the back of her neck and a shaved head. She was a young mom and pretty lively. A lot of those different characters from all walks of life used to kind of just come round to our house. And when something broke, everybody just banded together and fixed things. The circus reminded me of that: everything was in this constant state of disrepair, but it didn't matter, because everybody was there to fix it. 

What’s the defining image or work of your lifetime, made by someone else?
“Gordon in the Water on Sea Coal Beach” by Chris Killip. I love how elemental it feels. It's a bit of a symphony of the powers of nature. But in all honesty, I rarely look too deeply into photographs. I find myself more drawn to painters, in particular Lucian Freud. His portraits don’t flatter, they show people as they are.

What is your favourite ƒ stop? 
On my Pentax 67, medium format, the lenses are a little more shallow, so I’d be at ƒ11. For 35mm, I’d hover around ƒ5 or 6. 

Who is your dream subject? 
Roger Penrose.

What are two things you love and one thing you’d change about your job?
Firstly, I love adventure. My mum's adopted, but her blood relatives were Welsh gypsy travelers. I think it's just in my bones. 

But I sometimes see photography as a bit of a curse and a gift, so I can answer both with this. On the one hand, it’s this incredible vehicle to go and interact with the world and talk to a stranger. It opens a portal to things. But on the flip side, sometimes you view the world through a lens, even when you don't have a camera. I think that's why the experience is so important to me. Often when I was with the circus, I wouldn't take pictures for days. I just wanted to be part of it.

Smoke Filled Mirror by Keiran Perry is available to buy now via New Dimension

Credits
Words: Douglas Greenwood
Photography: Keiran Perry, courtesy of New Dimension

For New Dimension
Art Direction and Design: Alex Currie
Editor: Sherif Dhaimish
Creative Direction: Ben Goulder

What's the inspiration behind this track and where did you write it? 
It’s about moving with the current of sures. It’s about moving at a flow that’s unique to your identity. It’s a “Hackney me, they can’t manage it” type of track. An introduction, if you must.

Tell us about the making of the music video? What mood did you want the video to capture? 
It was shot on-set at the Gabriel Moses and i-D ‘Brotherhood’ photoshoot that they ran to celebrate community. We are the mood.

What was the collaboration process like working with Sampha? What surprised you when working together?  
The process and [it] happening was an honour. No surprises – but I most loved the approach and level of care he brought.

What's inspiring you right now? 
Remembering to breathe. Remembering to dance, and hopes of a cohesive, functioning society. The sound of peace is inspiring. 

What are you most excited for in 2025? 
The inevitable.

John Glacier's album 'Like a Ribbon' is released via Young on 14 February

Tashkent’s layered history serves as perennial inspiration to fashion designer Jenia Kim, the founding creative director of J.Kim, who was born there. But rather than simply reflect on all that has been for Uzbekistan, her sights are set on shaping what will come. “There’s a sense of something new on the horizon, which I can't really pin down yet,” she says. “It's still in the process of becoming.” 

For Kim, a key feature of this mission is both acknowledging the city’s expansive history – known for its booming numbers of Silk Road pilgrims – and diverting attention to lesser-known facets of Uzbek’s contemporary cultural landscape, like its lively multiculturalism. A second-generation member of the koryo-saram – the half-million-strong Korean diaspora dispersed across the former Soviet Union, and originally displaced in the 1930s – her perspective on and experience of growing up in Uzbekistan and Russia, where she moved to as a teen, was always characterised by an ambivalent sense of belonging. “I couldn't really understand how I considered myself,” she  says, “and later on, when I started designing, I spent a lot of time contemplating whether I belonged to Uzbek culture, and whether or not I had the right to use these codes ,” she explains. “But I really wanted to show that Uzbekistan – and Uzbek culture – isn't just about these references seen in museums and in books. I started to research [Uzbek and Korean] cultures, and my brand was born as a synthesis of that research.”

As opposed to the lion’s share of contemporary Uzbek designers, who tend to offer relatively faithful renditions of the opulent sartorial fare you’ll find in the city’s bazaars, Kim takes a more figurative tack, “trying to convey the feeling of Uzbekistan, rather than depicting it in exact terms.” Woozy paisleys, padded chor jackets and intricate suzani textiles (typically hand-embroidered, a staple in Uzbek tradition) figure in the brand’s palette, but they accent a range of clothes that you wouldn’t instinctively associate with the dressing customs of a predominantly Muslim, though legally secular, country. Think slinky jersey shift dresses and spaghetti strap camisoles feature tasselled petal cutouts – the brand’s signature detail – as well as drawstring trousers and crossbody pouch bags abstracted by appliquéd organza rosettes and swirls.

Today, life has led Kim back to her hometown of Tashkent, where she’s been based for the past three years. Since then, she’d built a loyal local following and successfully translated her geo-specific – at times esoteric – repertoire of references for a global audience. In fact, her primary markets lie beyond Uzbekistan’s borders: her stockists include Moscow concept store KM20, Toronto-based beacon of taste 100% Silk Shop and indie brand e-comm giant SSENSE.

Last summer, the brand consolidated its relationship with Tashkent by staging its very first show there, presented at the Abul Kasim Madrassa, a historical centre of craft scholarship. The collection was a collaboration with Ukrainian designer Anton Belinskiy that explored the fraught pursuit of creative and personal balance. Currently displaced from his homeland on account of the ongoing war, the creative process saw Belinskiy – one of Ukraine’s most celebrated design talents, and a former LVMH Prize nominee – move to Tashkent for two months to collaborate directly with Kim. A testament to their longstanding friendship, the collection harmonised Kim’s formal rigour and Belinskiy’s playful approach to colour and print. Generously cut shirts came in liquid silks with car headlight prints — Belinskiy’s eccentric synthesis of the white Chevrolet fog lights and the extra dress sensibility you see all around the city. Men’s tailored trousers were either bisected at the knee and overlaid with flounced wool skirts, or came with sensuous cut-outs, trimmed with looped suzani embroidery.
The balance sought here was a tempering of Uzbekistan’s typically stern conventions around masculine dress: “We wanted to show local men that it’s alright to experiment more and to introduce a softness into their way of dressing,” Kim explained. “To have a bit of fun.”

The show felt like an inflexion point in Tashkent’s trajectory, as if it was becoming a place that the world will look to with an interest in its present and future, rather than just its past. Of course, that’s not a task that J.Kim can achieve on her own. Here, three members of Tashkent’s burgeoning community joining her in defining the city’s contemporary identity share their top tips, their thoughts on the state of Uzbek fashion, and their hopes for what tomorrow will bring.

Hassan Kurbanbaev, photographer and co-founder of Invisible Island studio

How would you describe Tashkent to someone who has never been before? 
Tashkent is where the culture and identity of different generations intertwine. The city exists at the crossroads of Islam, Soviet architectural heritage, and the new. Additionally, there’s a vibrant youth population here. For me, Tashkent is both young and ancient simultaneously.

What’s your relationship to Jenia and J.Kim?
Jenia and I did our first shoot together in 2017, and we’ve been collaborating ever since.

What are the most exciting recent developments in Tashkent’s cultural scene?
For me, a standout development has been the emergence of an independent artistic scene in the city. Talented individuals are fostering a DIY culture, creating great new music, engaging in photography, and delving into post-colonial studies of our recent history. 139 Documentary Center, in particular, has become a vital institution – it’s the heart of the independent artistic community of Tashkent. 

What gives you hope about the future of Tashkent’s cultural scene?
The new generation of artists who can fearlessly express themselves. Those who don’t follow what is expected but what their hearts and personal convictions lead them to create.

What’s your top advice for anyone thinking of visiting the city?
Take your time – the rhythm of life here is special. Explore the underground, wander through the streets and districts, maybe some museums and independently discover what Tashkent is. And do not forget to visit my studio Invisible Island to say hi!

Ester Sheynfeld, multidisciplinary artist 

How would you describe Tashkent to someone who has never been before? 
Tashkent is like a jar full of butterflies: a bright but unobtrusive memory you’ll keep for a long time.

What about the city do you find particularly inspiring? 
I draw strength from the Chorsu Bazaar. I can feel myself being pulled there, and being free finding inspiration from just walking through the market’s narrow streets. You’ll find almost-extinct old town motifs, a Soviet flavour in the architecture, a real sense of multiculturalism in people and rare finds on the stalls.

How would you describe the Tashkent fashion scene?
Recently, our local designers have started to take more interest in their roots and develop new interpretations of old fabrics in their collections. Some have just started to explore the underground fashion world, which I don’t remember having seen here before. Despite the growing interest of our designers in global trends and the development of local brands who are capable of entering the international scene, I think it will still be some time before we can compete on a global level and be heard abroad.

How would you describe that role that Jenia and J.Kim have played in developing Tashkent’s fashion scene?
Jenia shows our young (and not just young!) fashion designers that it’s possible to not just follow but also to create global trends by bringing eclecticism into their collections. J.Kim proves that, being based in a territory with a rich multi-ethnic heritage and with its own modern look.

What gives you hope about the future of Tashkent’s cultural scene?
The open borders of consciousness.

What’s your top advice for anyone thinking of visiting the city?
You have to starve yourself in advance, because there are so many delicious dishes to try, and bring the biggest empty suitcase you have, because you will want to take home everything you see. 

Rufayda, fashion student

What's your relationship to Jenia and J.Kim?
Jenia is like a mentor to me. Last year, I had a chance to be an intern at J.Kim, it was a great experience. 

How would you describe Tashkent to someone who has never been before?
It’s like a kaleidoscope that creates endless patterns. It pulsates with life, especially in the bustling bazaars and busy public areas.

What about the city do you find particularly inspiring?
I love the diversity of our architecture; here you can see both post-Soviet buildings covered with mosaics as well as oriental mausoleums, mosques, and madrassas. You can literally drive past modern buildings and then an old mahalla in the city’s centre, full of the spirit of the old city, where nothing has changed for centuries. Another constant source of inspiration for me are our artisans, who dedicate their lives to their craft. They put their heart and soul into every item they make. Their passion is contagious and it inspires everyone who comes into contact with them.

How would you describe the Tashkent fashion scene?
People in Tashkent are more experimental than in other regions of Uzbekistan, but the fashion scene here is still just emerging. Nevertheless, the industry has been developing significantly in recent years. I’m happy to see more and more creative individuals who are not afraid to challenge old norms and find their own paths. 

What have been the most exciting developments in recent times in Tashkent's cultural scene?
The National Pavilion of Uzbekistan in the 60th Venice Biennale. The project was undertaken by a group of artists from Tashkent, who showcased a series of hand-embroidered pieces and an exhibition curated by the Centre for Contemporary Arts in Tashkent. 

What's your top advice for anyone thinking of visiting the city?
Come in the spring or autumn season when it is at its most picturesque. If you're flying here in the summertime, though, bring extra sunscreen. The sun won't spare you.

Credits
Photography: Abdulaziz Yuldoshev 

If we can’t put a full moratorium on referencing in time, my hope is that more stars will at least explore a more conceptually interesting approach. For instance, Timothée Chalamet’s cheeky Bob Dylan cosplay at the New York premiere of A Complete Unknown was a genuine comic delight that, as part of a decidedly unconventional and entertaining press run, subverted what we expect of an Important Biopic actor campaigning for an Oscar nom.

Last week at the Golden Globes, Ayo Edebiri exemplified perhaps the most tasteful version of what referencing can look like: her grey, gathered Loewe suit was a nod to her After the Hunt co-star Julia Roberts’ iconic oversized outfit from the 1990 Globes, as Edebiri and her stylist Danielle Goldberg have stated. But the custom-designed ensemble was a personalised interpretation of a theme –  accessorising the boxy silhouette with a gilded feathery necktie, a red Artists4Ceasefire pin, and silver grills  – an ultimately original look that reflected Edebiri’s own style, not a costume.

By contrast, Jenna Ortega sporting a near-exact recreation of co-star Winona Ryder’s Beetlejuice costume during the press tour for the film’s 2024 sequel is disappointingly literal, obvious, and given that the movie itself is an unnecessary reboot,  thematically redundant.

In the music world, some artists’ aesthetic references help place their work in a broader cultural context and artistic lineage, such as Victoria Monét’s tribute to Janet and Michael Jackson in the music video for “Alright,” or Hayley Williams of Paramore channeling Debbie Harry onstage. Coming from established artists with strong creative identities of their own, references like these are coherent homages that draw credible parallels. Compared to say, Sabrina Carpenter mimicking Madonna and Fran Drescher (benign but boring drag), or Kim Kardashian mining the estates of deceased icons for her Met Gala looks (macabre necromancy): these unimaginative reiterations have nothing additive to offer, and only leave you lusting over the potency of the originals. 

In an image-dominant digital culture that discourages nuance, we all (not just celebrities) are increasingly inclined to use the most immediate and legible signifiers possible to articulate who we are, or who we want to be seen as, by way of our tastes. Just as one who’s uninitiated with interior design can buy a dupe of a designer sofa that, in an Instagram photo, might denote the same aesthetic sensibility as an aficionado who shelled out thousands for the real thing, it is much easier for an artist to appropriate the star power of Britney or Madonna by wearing their clothes than it is to develop a comparable artistic output.

Hand-wringing over artistic authenticity is by no means a new cultural preoccupation, of course. Walter Benjamin wrote in his 1935 essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” that the ‘aura’ of a work of art is degraded by its industrial replication, which strips the work of its original context. But this preoccupation feels like an increasingly troubling one, given the state of our pop culture and media landscape overall. Celebrities dressing up as each other may be silly and inconsequential in one sense, but it is symptomatic of an entertainment industry at large that overwhelmingly relies on lazy reproduction and expects us all to lap it up. Right now, we are saddled with too many films and TV shows endlessly recycling the same IP; too many pop songs that use samples to regurgitate old hits rather than interpolating them in a creative way; too much algorithmic interference with how we discover new art – lest we even get into the AI of it all.

In 2009, the late André Leon Talley famously lamented that the fashion landscape was in a “famine of beauty.” The state we face now –  in fashion and beyond – is a famine of originality. Just because Hollywood execs want us to settle for reboot after reboot on screen, do we really have to settle for reboots on the red carpet too?

One such person is Ethel Cain who, after rejecting the idea of being framed as a “pop artist” in 2024, decided to make an album – named Perverts, of  course –  that was inscrutable and brave and grating. 90 minutes long and comprised of industrial pink noise and undistinguishable vocals subsumed by fuzzed out electric guitar, it feels antithetical to the kind of brashness that Brat possessed; unpalatable and uncatchy and everything many of her fans did not want. Charli’s turned her inner thoughts into big, earworm pop songs. On Perverts, Cain seems to be doing the opposite: doubling down on mystery, and harbouring a willingness to stay weird and misunderstood. 

Miuccia Prada has long been a master of gorgeous perversity. Prada’s SS25 collection was replete with slightly sordid looks: a dress embellished with more girthy metal rings than a Hot Topic employee knows what to do with; a striped bathing suit styled beneath a knee-length peacoat (flasher!); and a crispy and crunchy cropped full-leather look, complete with a hood to cower beneath. Mrs Prada’s take on fashion worldbuilding, both elegant and strange, predates her work with the more traditional freak Raf Simons too. A decade-old Miu Miu campaign image of Mia Goth, back arched on a bare mattress in a mildew-coated room, has recently resurfaced on X. Funnily enough, some are saying it’s Ethel Cain coded – and of course, Cain has entered the Miu Miu universe herself on the show’s AW24 runway.

Perversion doesn’t have to be tied to sex – sometimes perversion is a mindset. It can summarise our intent to mute the parts of ourselves that tell us to say ‘no’, and make bad decisions. Not to sound all Kelly Clarkson mid-00s pop ballad about it, but Pervert Winter is the time to be proud of the parts of yourself some consider ugly or uncouth. Make a fool of yourself; be a beg. Worry less about how you are seen. Fester in your insecurities and wear them when you leave the house. Or, alternatively, don’t leave the house at all. Turn the lights off and live in it. 

“My godparents are from Louisiana, so I always thought of New Orleans as my God city,” Sultana Isham says. The composer and scholar, known best for her work in film, moved to the gothic Louisiana city after college. Something was pulling her there, away from her native Virginia or the roots she set up in college in New York. New Orleans is the focus of her current project: a multi-modal exploration of a club barely anybody has heard of, but that holds the key to how trans women were seen in the American south across nearly six decades. 

In the 1950s, Papa Joe’s Female Impersonators opened in New Orleans, a strip club populated with transgender women who danced and served drinks to visiting patrons. Some guests discreetly slipped through the back doors, others openly enjoyed the company, a handful came just to gawk in disbelief at what they saw. “Usually when people talk about trans people, they think that, you know, we just got here, back in the '80s,” Isham says. “They center on really big cities, like New York or L.A. or London. The idea is that you have to move to [one of them] in order to develop. This is not that.” 

Papa Joe’s, though brash and exciting, provided the opportunity for trans women in New Orleans to make money in a working world that traditionally shunned them. It was imperfect – as Isham tells us – but one of the rare careers at the time  that gave these women both creative and financial autonomy. 

Originally a documentary, Isham’s project on Papa Joe’s has since expanded into different mediums, making use of her familiarity with sound and performance, with the intention of creating what she calls ‘performance lectures’. “I don't want it to be super didactic,” she says. There’s also the issue of creating a place for the scarce information surrounding the club to live. “I'm making this film, but I also want to build the scholarship of Papa Joe's, and create a digital archive crediting the women.” Before Isham started talking about it, “Papa Joe’s [was] not on the internet at all.”

Here, Isham tells i-D, in her own words, a brief history of the mystery and magic of Papa Joe's Female Impersonators.

“Papa Joe’s has been a ghost in my background my entire life. I call the women from Papa Joe’s that I speak to my ambassadors. I discovered one of my ambassadors, Kineen Mafa, on YouTube when I was in high school. At that time there weren’t many trans people on YouTube. She was a woman with a full, complex story beyond her gender. Kineen was very spiritual and is a theologian. She had already transitioned at that time. It was good for me to see that.

In 2018, at a storytelling workshop for the Center of Black Trans Women, I actually got to meet Kineen in person. The majority of the people there were much older than I was. I’d heard them talk about so many different things, but one of the things that intrigued me was Papa Joe's. They knew that I was in film and doing composition, so they put that bug in my ear to do something. I just needed a little bit more time to learn what I was doing. 

A year ago, I was with two sisters of mine, two other trans women both from New Orleans, and we went to a performance literally across the street from my apartment where three of the girls that worked at Papa Joe’s were performing. I have three ambassadors: Jasmine White, Kyra Auzenne and Kineen Mafa. And I knew Jasmine and Kineen before. It was just the four of us in the dressing room, Jasmine and Kineen had already talked about doing some work with the project. I told Kyra about this idea, and she immediately loved it. She said: ‘Come to church with me’. 

Now, I’m a Buddhist. The thing I’m talking about in this project that I’ve never seen in other projects is the connection to spirituality. New Orleans is a very complicated place. It’s a very Catholic city, but it’s also witchy and voodoo and all that kind of stuff. These things that seemingly are in opposition to each other are, in New Orleans, in a deep relationship with each other. Meeting transsexual Catholic strippers is not unusual. So I went to church with them, and what was so interesting about that experience was that everyone at that church was a trans woman. There was one woman who wasn’t  – and her son, who was gay, was the pastor. After that, we had dinner, we did some recording and talked more about the project. That's how it kind of started. 

After that, I officially started to work on filming, interviewing and diving into the little bits [of information] that I could find. The youngest people that were at Papa Joe’s are now in their late 40s, and the oldest living ones are, like, 81. Many are deceased. When you Google the club, nothing at all comes up. 

All of the photos that I have were shared with me by them. There’s a Facebook group, and I’m the only person in the group that’s never been a Papa Joe’s girl. They gave me all of these beautiful images. 

The girls told me that the original owner was actually from Italy, and he moved to New Orleans when he was six years old. The rumour was that he was actually a member of the mob. There were two Papa Joe’s. The first one started in the 50s, and was in that spot until the late 90s, then they moved a block away. The girls talked about [the original Papa Joe’s] like it was the good old days. They made more money there, and I think that was because the entrance was not at the front of the street, so people were able to be discreet.

An older group of girls, who I think are probably all white, have their own group. That’s part of the complicated nature of this project: the intergenerational relationship between trans women of this age; a story of segregation. 

Papa Joe’s Female Impersonators was historically only for white trans women. It started in the ’50s and was exclusively white. I think in the ’60s, they started to sprinkle one or two [non-white dancers] in, but they were never the feature. As a feature, you were never fired. You could work whenever you want. You could stop a girl’s routine and the middle of it and take up the stage. A lot of those girls were [in demand] all over the world, so they would be traveling. They wouldn’t really be there a lot. So the other girls were the ones that were really making the club sustainable and afloat and alive. When they started to incorporate more Creole or Black or Latino women, they would only have one at a time. By the early 2000s, they describe it as being mostly Black and brown women.

LaWanda was the first and only Black woman to have ever been a feature, and that wasn’t until the 90s. Everybody loved LaWanda. Everyone speaks of her with high regard. She would call out the bullshit and still be friendly and genuine and defend girls who might be having a tough time. The girls described her as a comet: there for a short time, but made a big impact.

Whenever a war would come, the sailors would head to Papa Joe’s. Before going off to the [Iraq] war after 9/11, they said it was packed. They wanted to experience seeing one of the girls before possibly dying. Members of royal families also came, as did celebrities, government figures, talk show hosts… Jerry Springer used to come down. 

I’m saying transsexual: I wanted to use that language. We don’t have a problem with it. With the term ‘female impersonator’, [you had to use it] to work at popular spots. You had to degrade yourself. You [were expected] to be grateful, and say things that you don’t feel about yourself. Even the name of the club. None of the girls liked it, but there is still clarity within that language. All female impersonators can do drag if they wanted to, but not all drag artists can do female impersonation, because the whole point of female impersonation was for people to not be immediately aware that this person was assigned male at birth. It’s not campy. It’s not dramatic in that way that drag is.

When they went to the second Papa Joe’s location, that's when they’d say the good times were over. We were starting to get chat rooms and Backpage. People could summon a trans woman from the internet, so they didn't have to go out to the club.

[The former Papa Joe’s dancers] all do different things now. A few work in health care; others are independent artists. Some married men and kept quiet. They don’t want to talk about those days. Many went to college. A lot of them felt like Papa Joe’s was college for them anyway.”

Close those “in” and “out” lists, everybody. January 2025 is here and in just one week the menswear aficionados will descend on the showrooms of Europe to find out what’s actually in and out in fashion. After taking notes at Pitti Uomo, starting 11 January, they’ll train it north to a pared down Milan menswear week with Prada, Magliano, Giorgio Armani and a Gerrit Jacob party we just heard about. Then they’ll hop on that Air France flight from Linate to tackle Paris’s heavy hitter-heavy schedule. Then, after seven days of shows from Louis Vuitton, Rick Owens, Lemaire, Saint Laurent and Willy Chavarría’s Parisian debut, journalists will swoosh right into the drama of couture, where Alessandro Michele will make his haute couture debut at Valentino and Peter Copping will make an off-calendar debut at Lanvin. There’s lots of fashion coming your way — all before January is out. 

But will 2025 bring any different kind of fashion than the wham-bam moments that defined 2024? 

Instead of new year, new you, the fashion industry has been working off a “same you” playbook since about 2015, shuffling the same creative directors around high profile jobs and sticking to the same routine of meme-able accessories and viral runway shows to drive sales and interest. Even the global COVID shutdowns, which birthed not one, but two very well-signed decrees from fashion dignitaries, didn’t actually change much about where fashion happens, how it communicates, or the values it prizes. 

In a strange way, fashion itself has fallen out of fashion. The boom times of the 2010s –when streaming fashion shows, social media discourse, and runway stunts were at an all time high – felt like an era that placed fashion at the fore of culture, leading conversations that rippled through the worlds of celebrity, media, technology and art. Fashion shows like Alessandro Michele’s quiet quirkdom at Gucci in 2014, Kanye West’s Yeezy season 1 later that year, Demna’s Balenciaga Bernie merch for fall 2017, Virgil Abloh’s rainbow road at Louis Vuitton in in 2018 that created a new paradigm for the industry: Through these multi-media runway spectacles-turned-cultural events, fashion became the lingua franca of the young, stylish and chronically online. The fashion industry, still a semi-niche pursuit, was suddenly dominating  global conversation. You could see luxury Belgian janties on CNN and hear about Raf Simons on Spotify. Fashion wasn’t just for people at Soho House anymore. 

Our editor-in-chief Thom Bettridge coined a term for this as it reached a climax with Balenciaga’s The Simpson’s 2021 show: merchtainment. Brands have been marketing themselves way ever since, creating easily recognisable vibes, like starter packs, for their consumers to buy into. (There’s a reason every ad campaign you have seen is full of “characters” – easier to market to everyone, whether you like rugby or Rosemary’s Baby.) That’s cool and fun, but in 2025, it’s starting to feel like merchtainment has given up the “merch” and just become memetainment, with an overload of in-jokes, referential and self-referential content, and narratives around a brand drowning out anything the brand actually makes or sells.

Hear me out: Maybe there’s something fashion can actually learn from dupe culture. The most oft-duped items of 2024 – the “Wirkin,” The Row’s jelly sandals and Margeaux bag, the Balenciaga Rodeo bag, even Uggs – prove consumers actually care about Product. The same goes for the influx of Substack shopping newsletters; fashion lovers will actually pay to learn exactly which brooch conveys the ‘ladies who luncheon’ spirit the most, which under $200 barrel-leg jean is most flattering, and which artisanal bauble is made with the most care and attention. It’s not all vibes and identities to be traded online; the pendulum is swinging back to stuff being the story. 

Here, a look back at the most interesting garments designed in 2024 and what they mean for fashion in 2025.

All-In’s Reworked Pop Girl Lingerie
It’s not just the Charli xcx stamp of approval. Even before Brat, All-In had every stylist I know in a chokehold over their wide-throat, teensy-heeled boots. With a larger production run on their expertly crafted lingerie pieces, creative directors Bror August Vestbø and Benjamin Barron have translated vintage and boudoir obsessions into something purchasable online. 

Phoebe Philo’s Blouson Leather Jacket
Every hot girl you know is wearing a bubble or belted leather jacket because Phoebe said so. While there are good contenders from other brands, Philo’s take on an 80s silhouette feels the most modern because it’s not totally loyal to the retro shape. Instead of shoulderpads, the shoulders swoop into the arms, the pleating is softened, and there’s still a slightly unsexy spirit to the hulky mass of it all.

Craig Green’s Multi-Material Moto Jackets
Simply un-dupe-able, incredibly freaky, and fabulous. Craig Green appears like Batman in Gotham; when we need him most he stages a fashion show and continues to reimagine the limits of what clothing can be. That Green exists slightly outside the fashion systems, but hasn’t lost his optimism also makes his work stand out as a model for how designers can be true designers while still finding ways to stay in business. 

Loewe’s Feather Tees
There’s plenty of drool-worthy craft on the Loewe catwalks, but the band tees of Bach made in feathers exist at the nexus of cerebral and kooky that Jonathan Anderson constantly fingers at. A model for how a luxury brand can continue to push the limits of viable, salable design items, Anderson’s Loewe could be on this list thrice over.

Willy Chavarría’s Peaked-Shoulder Jackets
The menswear revolution of 2025 might be the revenge of the “noodle boys,” but it might also just be men embracing their sensuality. (See visible chests, exposed hipbones, and sinuous jewellery.) Willy Chavarría made the definitive hot guy silhouette of 2024: a blazer with peaked shoulders and slightly nipped waists worn by Colman Domingo, Omar Apollo and Chavarría himself with panache. It’s an evolution from 2023’s Fear of God Big Suit, and a shape that will surely impact how men dress this year.  

Maison Margiela’s Second-Skin Couture
Worn by Ariana Grande and Björk, the rainbow-hued, filmy Maison Margiela dress took the naked dress and made it magical. As an exhibition detailing the making of Maison Margiela’s only runway show of 2024 showed, Galliano works with a ton of references, but on the runway the clothes never felt overly referential. A modern kind of beauty is what 2025 should be about – not just pandering to the past. This is a smart step in a right direction, mirkin and all. 

Alaïa’s Dreamy Athleisure
Subtlety, comfort and beauty are the calling cards of Pieter Mulier’s Alaïa. For a collection presented at The Guggenheim Museum, Mulier flexed his design muscle to create dozens of pieces that mixed the sportiness of leggings, bralettes and puffer coats with the elegance and sexiness of Alaïa. No piece was quite as exquisite as this pillowy, cashmere skirt in pale pink. Stuffed like a duvet, it has the lightness of Alo Yoga with the chicness of a heritage French brand. 

Jeans? Jeans! 
The greatest design innovation happening in denim? It’s 2009 all over again (complimentary). The most interesting design innovations happening below the waist are happened to jeans in 2024. Kiko Kostadinov’s pleated-knee Levi’s for men were swiftly followed by the womenswear arm of the brand (helmed by designers Deanna and Laura Fanning) offering a brown denim three-piece suit trimmed in faux shearling. Raimundo Langlois’s ultra-ultra-low rise jeans brought back the sexiness of naughties denim, while Re/Done’s Mel Jeans proved that a perfect pant looks good on every body. The most exciting jeans prized fit over flair, tailoring waists, knees and hems to perfection rather than adding any bells and whistles. 

Comme des Garçons’s Shelter Dress
The boom time of fash-tainment coincided with fashion taking a political stance. Despite politics getting more fraught with every passing day, design has gotten strangely apolitical since 2020. The rare designer brave enough to say something (while famously speaking very little) is Comme des Garçons' Rei Kawakubo, whose Spring 2025 Comme des Garçons show poignantly broached topics like violence against women and the unhoused and migrant populations around the world. What makes Kawakubo such a beacon is that she never compromises design in favour of a message, instead choosing to harmonise the evil of the world with the beauty of her vision in her work. 

Honorable mention: Prada and Bottega Veneta’s Spring 2025 Runway Collections
OK, so it’s not one garment, but rather a full cast of clothes that work together not because of a theme but because of the intention of the designers who made them – and the people who will wear them. Individuality over uniformity, style over fashion, taste over trends… when two of the most forward-thinking brands are thinking about the vastness of a wardrobe, all signs point to clothes being back.