Pith and Seed throws the viewer headfirst into its concepts with its polysemous title. To ‘pith’ an idea, and form the inner structure of a fruit; to ‘seed’, to birth, a core. Already, two major components of consumption.

Gabriella Bartolo-Kanellopoulos’ work sits in the corner, Not created, not destroyed. Ironically its position directly responds to its core status in the show; a cornerstone for tradition and cultural practices whilst providing itself as a beacon for the remaining works in the space to situate around.

Pomegranate molasses are scattered. What usually is a motif focused on its process of prying and retrieving, is instead present post-making. We see it as a remnant of koliva, proof that a ceremony of some sort has taken place, a religious one.

There is a holy undertone that tells me I cannot understand the work the way someone at Sunday service would.

Some form of perishable is concurrent with all works in Pith and Seed.

‘Tradition in this work is bastardised, as the artist aims to concretise something which is designed to disappear through consumption.’, Gabriella refers to Not created, not destroyed, an attempt to take the perishing away from the perishable.

This unveils a layer of irony with From the fruit of labour, I will return to dust. The name of my house will remain. by Maïténa Etchebarne. As Maïténa attempts to disintegrate elements of her work, she does the opposite of Gabriella, instead, bastardising archival images. I sat with this for a while.

In the middle of a Saturday, Pith and Seed feels sacred upon entry. I can only imagine the atmosphere of opening night. There is an undeniable religious subtext, one which blurs the lines between tradition and faith.

Mandeep Singh’s Points of Contact, demonstrates a raw vulnerability, body becoming one with material or at the very least, remnants of body.

Assisted by rice paper in Joanna Pham’s , the smoke knows no width, this place is found without bound, tea and coffee in Shayna Dahya, My Prefrontal Cortex and the act of writing in Wandering Voices by Jack Sam; a cut of pork in Finnigan Edwards Kaav Lugat, is the catalyst for a brutalist backdrop amidst the space.

Pith and Seed almost begs us to ask– can my sacred space exist with yours?

“Online people can’t really experience it,” he told me. “Here they can touch it. Feel it.”

As I approached the store, I was welcomed by a crowd which acted as a preview of the store and its contents, foreshadowing the Imminent collection. It was busy, loud and colourful, with bodies and voices all competing with one another. However, when actually in the mix, individual conversations and energies dissolved into a collective atmosphere.

The store itself was intentionally chosen for its size. Rather than allowing people to browse in isolation, the space encourages interaction. Strangers squeezed past one another, and occupied the same energetic space of excitement and curiosity. It felt less like shopping and more like a house party.

The collection reflects the same energy. It’s unapologetically maximalist. At first glance, there’s almost too much to take in, which only enticed me more! At a time when so much contemporary fashion feels painfully muted, minimal and safe, Pieces embraces excess. Instead of relying solely on subtle details or unconventional silhouettes, every garment confidently demands attention.

Although loud and colourful, the craftsmanship underpins the boldness. Intricate stitching, unusual construction, and thoughtful tailoring reward a closer look. Each piece first announces itself with confidence, then seductively invites you to appreciate the finer details.

Displaying maximalist fashion without descending into visual chaos is far from easy. Yet Pieces manages to strike a careful balance. Every designer is given room to breathe, allowing each collection to speak with volume and clarity. Nothing competes for attention, yet nothing fades into the background either. The interiors reinforce this considered curation, guiding you naturally through the space while maintaining a sense of eclectic cohesion.

During my visit, the collection naturally reflected the season. Heavy knits, textured fabrics, and winter layers filled the rails, with Brozen carefully selecting designers whose work felt right for that time of year. If I’d have found a cute mini skirt in the store, I’d have happily worn it in the middle of the current (freezing) Melbourne winter. Pieces intentionally eliminates the element of impracticality. Rather than chasing trends, the collection simply felt thoughtful.

The jewellery section felt like stumbling across a unique discovery within an already overflowing gallery. Rather than appealing to a single aesthetic, each collection catered to a different audience, with displays strategically positioned to catch wandering eyes and give each collection space to shine and magpie whoever’s vision caught them the most. My favourite collection (pictured below) perfectly captured this philosophy. I wonder why it was my favourite!

The opening of Pieces on 73 Smith St was a genuinely fun experience. The energy, the people and the collection all captured a sense of curiosity and playfulness that felt woven into every corner of the space. Pieces brings back the excitement of organised and curated chaos!

‘Are you lonely tonight? I’m so lonesome I could cry.’ opens ACCA’s three-part series investigating the intersection of human emotion and contemporary art. When I arrive for a guided walkthrough led by curators Sophie Prince and Myles Russell-Cook, in conversation with several of the featured artists, the narrow foyer is crowded despite the cold outside. I find myself amused by the notion that we would all be investigating loneliness together, united as strangers in contemplation of our separateness.

The irony is not lost on the exhibition itself. There is an overwhelming sense amongst the works that rather than being a purely private affliction, loneliness is a shared state of being, a feeling that can be held together. Melbourne artists Callum McGrath and Nick Mullally’s works each speak directly to this phenomenon through their documentation of queer nightclub culture as a space, much like the gallery, where loneliness and togetherness are not opposites, but overlapping conditions.

The exhibition’s understanding of loneliness is not confined to this sharing of social spaces, but also considers the recurring threads that connect our isolated experiences. Polly Borland and Natasha Matila-Smith’s works, presented alongside each other, explore the familiar urge for withdrawal within the body and domestic spaces, where loneliness becomes a form of protection from the harsh realities of the outside world.

Desire for connection through digital platforms also frequently reoccurs, whether through the internet culture references physically woven through Kayla Mattes' immense tapestry Lonely Planet, or more entertainingly through Seth Brown's Frank, in which an animatronic hot dog endlessly scrolls through a stream of AI-generated buns in search of its perfect match. This feels particularly on the nose, when at some point through the tour I spot an old Hinge match of mine across the crowd. Both works capture the strange intimacy of contemporary digital connection, and the illusion of endless possibility for interaction.

The eleven artists all present works that are deeply personal, and I am struck by the intimacy of the artist’s public consideration of loneliness. It feels a great privilege to have the weight of isolation shared amongst strangers, to be reminded that perhaps we are more connected by loneliness than we are separated by it. On a stranger’s phone I watch the notes app open, and a sentiment typed out: loneliness is the awareness of other people, and you choose if it becomes fear.

‘Are you lonely tonight? I’m so lonesome I could cry’ is open with free admission until the 30th of August. I highly recommend pairing your visit with a browse of the exhibition’s catalogue which features several wonderful pieces of commissioned writing on the topic of loneliness – free online, or limited physical copies available for purchase at ACCA.

This iconic Naarm cinema, which first opened in 1936, is the perfect setting for the designers’ island of misfit toys. The vintage seats and velvet red curtains leave you expecting to be transported into a world of kitsch. Taking inspiration from toys of different generations, the designers showcased looks that ranged from magical girls, dolls, plush bunnies, princesses and more. While whimsy underpins each designer’s philosophy, each one had a unique take on the increasingly popular theme we’re seeing across Pinterest boards and mood boards.

Faeble has its roots in DIY, and one look through the Instagram page shows how upcycling philosophies have evolved over the label’s years. I remember purchasing a pair of Faeble jeans many years ago from Depop and having them become my most favoured pair for their dollhouse aesthetics, covering the denim canvas in lace and ribbon. Nowadays, Faeble is heavily leaning into character-based looks that leave the girls feeling nostalgic for an imaginative past. Faeble has existed through many years in Naarm’s underground fashion canon, and that magic really came through in Creatures of Love. Distinct, feminine characters take centre stage in this collection, with an underlying theme of rebellion and disobedience I haven’t seen much of in Faeble’s work. Soft military flails are swung in the midst of ginormous plush bunnies and tales of haunting porcelain dolls. But among Faeble’s ghostly playhouse are light and silky slips from Love Creature and dramatic, medievalesque garments from Velevska.

Velevska’s looks lean more camp and costume, the kind that would occupy the minds of fashion history nerds. Inspired by tales of princesses, Velevska showcased fun, performance-based outfits that transport you to a time far beyond our own. Ghostly silhouettes are contrasted with silly circus characters, alongside elements of early 20th-century tailoring techniques, harmonising the designs with modern-day sensibilities. The designs are a perfect pairing with Faeble, exploring different facets of similar ethereal, nostalgic themes.

Maybe it’s because the world is going to shit, or maybe it’s because we’re all getting older, but the increasing frequency of playful, quirky concepts in Naarm’s creative sphere means we’re longing for art that demands the artist to be emotive. We crave relatability as a way to find community, and the beauty of this runway was seeing how everyone expressed what being a creature of love meant for them. From audience members in colourful, textured outfits to the designers themselves being passionate enough about their craft to take up the mantle of hosting an independent runway, the beauty of being a creature of love ultimately lies in our collective devotion to human-made art. Creatures of Love is an altar to romanticism, a celebration of human emotion and creation in the midst of technological reverence and sociopolitical anxiety.

At the centre of the exhibition was a recurring idea that identity is no longer something fixed or simply inherited. Instead it is something that must be continuously formed, questioned, and reformed. In a world that is increasingly interconnected, where movement between places and cultures is more common than ever, the question of what it means to truly belong becomes more complex. The exhibition gently raised the idea that belonging may no longer be tied to a single place or origin, but instead shaped through experience, memory, and ongoing connection. It also prompted reflection on whether a sense of belonging is linked to how clearly we understand or define our identity, or whether identity itself is becoming more fluid and uncertain.

What stayed with me most was how the exhibition encouraged an inward focus. It made me consider how the internal world of thoughts, emotions, and memory is becoming increasingly significant in shaping who we are. As external environments change rapidly, our sense of identity appears to rely more heavily on what we carry within us rather than what surrounds us.

The exhibition also highlighted a range of emerging artists based in Melbourne, each offering their own interpretation of belonging through different mediums. Despite the diversity of practice, including painting, sculpture, installation, and digital work, there was a clear sense of cohesion throughout the space. Moving through the exhibition felt like a gradual journey, with each work contributing to an evolving emotional and reflective atmosphere.

One work that stood out was Home in Transit by Jianni Du. The piece presented a kitchen filled with layered imagery and references to different cuisines and cultural objects. Tacos sat alongside dumplings and Weetabix appeared next to paella, forming a visual language of everyday familiarity drawn from multiple cultures. The work suggested that home is no longer a singular or stable concept but something constructed through exposure to diversity and shared experience. It reflected how many people now form a sense of belonging through accumulation rather than origin.

Another memorable work was The Monkeys Stole My Hair by Rukaya Salum Ali Springle. This more contemporary digital piece used vibrant imagery and symbolic references to explore human experience and emotional cycles. A central moon motif encouraged reflection on shared human rhythms and the idea that despite individual differences, people remain connected through universal patterns of change and return. It suggested that belonging may not only be something we build socially, but something that already exists through our shared presence on the same planet.

A Frozen Flow by Millie Shi offered a sculptural interpretation of movement and stasis. The work featured flowing forms that were simultaneously frozen in place, capturing tension between motion and stillness. The folded and layered structure of the piece reflected the complexity of identity and belonging as something that is constantly in motion yet never fully settled. It conveyed the idea that life itself is shaped by continuous movement, even when moments appear still.

Overall, Buffer Room created a space that felt reflective rather than declarative. It did not offer fixed answers but instead encouraged a slower engagement with questions of identity, migration, memory, and connection. The exhibition positioned art as a kind of transitional space, where uncertainty is not something to resolve but something to sit within. Walking through the exhibition felt like moving through a shared atmosphere of thought, where each work contributed to a broader conversation about how people navigate belonging in a constantly changing world.

The show “Aznable” named after the last collection to show for the evening presented by Angelo Saxton features a showcase containing an array of unique designers, each offering a new perspective to the fashion world of Naarm (Melbourne,) tonight. Featuring works by the following; Knot Rags, Taxi.xo, Hunter Salabanzi, Meeka studio, Yester Year O, By Finlay, Whole Hearted. For me, the line up felt familiar full of names I’ve seen around in the fashion scene, seeing glimpses of their work last year across different shows I was mainly interested to see what new fixations molded these collections and what felt true to their practises wheather it was colour palettes or construction techniques or complete 360.

To set the tone of the collections that walked this night, I wanted to provide an perspective of what each designers collection felt like, including the following specifics like aesthetic details that I felt define the collections as well as a song to encapsulate the collection creating a more tactical visual of how the evening went. (Not in any specific order)

Knot Rags;

Song; girl feels good by fka twigs

Choose your knitted fantasy, a style option for everyone to feel sensual within feminity. Each model carried themselves in such a confident cadence that felt it truly emulated the power of the relationship between the designer and the model. Knot rags looks felt chic and entrancing as the models walked down the runway with soft ruffles and tasteful draping, this one was truly for the divas in the room.

Taxi. Хо / Yester Year O Song; Trunks by Asap Rocky

The power of bleaching black textiles, resulting in electric vibrant orange hues, Effortless textile distressing that felt nostalgic like something you would find in the back of your grandparents wardrobe that they wore with only pride in their youth through the use of fitted bottom up shirts and natural aura, this collection felt like a world of it’s own that viewers were just getting a glimpse of.

Hunter Salabanzi;

Song; Century by EsDeeKid

Functional details meets design choices, this collection aside through perfectly encapsulating its street style niche influence of fitted to exaggerated archetypes, visually it seemed the designer was challenging the traditional use and placement of a zip for what can be functional has a right to accessorize the garment too.

Focusing heavily on construction in adapting silouettes following the influence of a technique often seen when constructing caps (bill stitching,) as a way to explore the importance of silouette through the construction type of sleeves with broad/scaled variations.

Meeka Studio;

Song; dreams by sjowgren

A light coastal breeze of patch work denim with a side of running through the sand with deep blue velvet details. Reminding you of the softness associated with what it feels like for a long awaited beach day that we all dream off. Meeka studio collection visually touched on the simplicity of taking a pause and how to bring that disconnect back to yourself, to reclaim your energy.

By Finlay;

Song; cupid by Ryan Betty

“Show pony” the collection that opened the evening, contained a series of garments that depicted a variety of form focused silhouettes that still kept an ode to cheeky details and soft textiles.

My personal fave was a mix toned dyed maxi dress with a bustier like brown contrast waist layer as the lighting enhanced the movement of the pattern depicted on the base textile as the model made her way down the cat walk.

Whole Hearted;

Song; 1 step forward and 3 steps back by Olivia Rodrigo This collection felt like the innocent familiarity of dressing up dolls as a child with the looks feeling like the playful ruffles and fitted vintage silouettes you would keep in a treasure chest, the softness of simplistic two toned colour palette matched with the plushed bears assigned to models.

Angelo Saxton;

Song; enjoy the silence by depeche mode

Inspired from a quote by Japanese anime character “Char Aznable” the established aesthetic choices within the collection consisted of metallic red, coral jersey with a combined force of glam rock. Paired with and influence of boxing attire tied together with L.E.D red collars and an attitude ranging from loose layered silhouettes to fitted waist bands referencing the classic boxing short shape.

The diverse group of designers illustrated the importance of stylistic concepts within each line up. And the value of creating a collective atmosphere where viewers could each align themselves with an aesthetic that felt true to their personal genre.

In Australia, where commercial sunbeds are banned, its presence already carried a kind of illicit absurdity. A machine designed to imitate the sun in a country defined by too much of it.

Ethan Lieutet Khnafo entered not with the severity often expected of performance art, but with classic Parisian humour. A dry, self aware charisma softened the density of his monologue as he guided the audience through a slideshow oscillating between philosophy, internet culture, beauty rituals and apocalypse. His accent folded around the words awkwardly at times, but it only made the performance feel more human. Less polished. More exposed.

Throughout the lecture, three performers sat waiting beside the solarium like worshippers preparing for ceremony. Ethan spoke about biomimicry, artificial light, sunflowers, tanorexia and the modern obsession with optimisation. Bryan Johnson appeared beside references to Georges Bataille. Ocean Vuong was quoted moments before jokes about Australian boys and perineum tanning. The script constantly hovered between sincerity and irony without ever fully settling into either. It was excessive. But intentionally so.

The performance itself unfolded almost wordlessly. At one point Ethan emptied bottles of moisturiser onto the gallery floor. Thick, glossy pools spread across the concrete as the performers stepped into it barefoot, rubbing the cream beneath their feet before collapsing together into a slow entanglement of limbs. Their bodies rolled across the floor in a movement that felt simultaneously sensual, infantile and mechanical. Flesh sliding against flesh beneath synthetic blue light. For several minutes they remained intertwined, not performing towards the audience but orbiting one another as though pulled by the same invisible force.

Like moths circling a porch light.

That image became impossible to escape. The human instinct to move towards illumination even when it burns, blinds or consumes us. Ethan himself eventually moved from narrator into participant, dissolving the boundary between observer and subject. He spoke of attraction to perfection, to artificiality, to the “bug zapper”. Not resisting the pull, but surrendering to it completely.

Then came the crickets.

Without warning, Ethan released a box of live crickets onto the floor. Tiny bodies scattering frantically through the moisturiser and around the performers’ limbs. The audience shifted immediately. Some laughed quietly. Others lifted their feet from the ground. Suddenly the gallery no longer felt controlled. The polished aesthetic cracked open and something alive entered the work. Panic. Movement. Instinct.

By the end, I could not confidently explain every reference or intention within ‘Today, the Sun Didn’t Rise’. But perhaps that was never the point. The performance did not ask to be neatly understood. It asked to be absorbed physically. To sit beneath artificial light and recognise how willingly we chase manufactured versions of beauty, wellness and transcendence. Even when they begin to resemble parody. Even when they feel vaguely dangerous.

The blue glow remained long after the performance ended. Cold and seductive. Like a sun that never truly rises, but never fully disappears either.

Since first laying eyes upon the singular Comme des Garçons ensemble that stood on its lonesome, tucked away on the second floor of the NGV’s permanent collection, I had lamented the prospect of perhaps never encountering and bearing witness to a solely dedicated exhibition, endowed with all the proverbial entitlements and the meticulous curation and presentation such a pioneering label and designer should be granted, and one that the largest Australian cultural institution can provide.

So, imagine my shock and awe upon hearing the announcement of the Kawakubo x Westwood joint exhibition, which began in late December of last year and is set to wrap up and close its doors within the coming days. Like anyone of my disposition, with an infatuated interest in the pair, I went and saw the exhibition within its opening days, and again, and once more.

I believe, primarily, that exhibitions hosted and established by the NGV ascertain a certain inherent, prophetic, and reflective quality when it comes to their showcases. So conscientiously are they compiled and displayed, they serve not just as a capitalisation on current topics and aesthetics of interest within Melbourne’s artistic microcosm, but also as a broader declaration of what has, and has yet to, blossom from subculture into mainstream collective and public awareness. This tenacity for uprooting subcultural prevalence and projecting its significance into the mainstream has been at the core of the gallery’s ethos, dating back to instances as early as the 1980s, when Keith Haring’s mural was ingratiated into the NGV’s landmark Waterwall, making him the first artist to do so.

Both designers, once stemming from paths of resistance, anti-form, and rebellion, now canonised within the NGV’s institutional walls, still manage to capture their signature ideology of defiance as you are guided through the infancy of each of their respective careers, all the way to their seminal years. One cannot help but feel truly enveloped by the significance of the pair’s shared history, and to garner an almost surreal sense of understanding and appreciation as to where their efforts have brought us today.

Observing the garments, I began to feel some form of induced red car syndrome. Below each ensemble lay plaques detailing information one would expect from any piece of displayed art, dates, titles, names, and so on. However, one common denominator I began to notice was the frequency of “Dot Comme Paris” as the source of donation. Some years ago, my first ever published piece of fashion writing was an interview with the owner of what was then titled ‘Dot Comme Melbourne’. It was an insightful and fairly surreal moment, as the storefront, and by extension the community it built, was foundational in fostering my own sense of stylistic direction, as well as exposing me to a world of new ideals that I had previously been unbeknownst to. Having personally seen the extensive collection housed at Dot Comme, it comes as no surprise that they have played a pivotal part in compiling historic pieces only fit for an exhibition of this calibre.

I think, symbolically, the notion that one of the exhibition’s biggest contributors is only a few doors down really drives home the idea of Melbourne, and by proxy the Melbourne artistic collective, as a force of no other comparison in terms of shifting domestic perspective and taking part in a form of aesthetic creolisation.

Lyons’ world stretches beyond the borders of the canvas around her. People sporting her tattoos and metallic accessories are few and far between in the creative community, and this exhibit is only a small part of it. Her work has always been segregated, with multiple practices dancing around each other — on her paintings, however, all elements of her portfolio come together. Canvases painted in fleshy neutrals sport Lyons’ signature whimsical touch, with some framed in decorative and disjointed aluminium.

Lyons attempts to express the inexpressible: experiences in flesh and bone that every artist wants to share with the external world. The exhibition argues that skin is a method of containment shared across plant and animal life, thereby transfiguring the ostensibly isolationist boundary into a unifying organ. Tattoos are used as a language of connection, inscription, and “painting through and beyond the body.”

Upon entrance, Reverie (2025) greets viewers as the only piece with a connecting frame. Using silver solder, Lyons signifies unity beyond the canvas, in which feminine subjects are intertwined. The canvas resembles blushing skin, with ribbons of neutral tones accompanied by silver leaf. Lyons’ signature use of silver, combined with the implied connection of flesh, is emblematic of humanity’s connection to the earth, with bare bodies holding each other within different canvases while welded to their environment.

Soft, vague bodies on the paintings often sport starkly contrasting tattoos in black ink in An Intimate Distance, Where Our Boundaries Blur, and Intertwined Stories Etched on Our Flesh. Lyons enforces an association between segregated pieces through her tattooed subjects, similar to how clients she has tattooed are innately related to her (and to each other). The very foundations of Lyons as an artist are carefully constructed through deconstruction, connection through fragments, and heritage in individualism.

The canvases are stretched across the modern kitschy interiors of Runner Up, a Collingwood bar decked out in mid-century intimate booths of chess tables, exposed brick walls and a romantic courtyard overlooking Collingwood Yards. Runner Up is a perfect venue for Lyon’s work, thematic of unity in individualistic expression. In our current digital age of unrelenting competition for people’s attention, Lyon’s works highlight the beauty of individualism, intention and connection to the natural world through skin and flesh.

“Inside every hem is a decision… Inside every bead is a pulse…” - The Uncut Script 2026

Matrilineal Threads explores intergenerational knowledge ties between women. Hosted at the Villa Alba Museum and curated by Ruby Valentino, Julie Simonelli-Valentino and Angela Simonelli, this exhibition spans the craft and lineage across three generations of women. With a particular focus on textiles, fashion and creative labour, it materialises resilience, memory and inheritance, giving form to a familial conversation — still ongoing. Through the repatriation of older garments, incorporation of family heirlooms and preservation of craft, the public takes witness to an active knowledge system; one that can not be institutionalised or archived in the traditional sense of those words. Culture and lineage are something embedded in DNA, stitched in the cloth of a person’s being. They are in the maker’s hands, and these women pass them down with grace and reverence.

Matrilineal Threads is presented as part of Melbourne Fashion Festival’s 2026 Independent Programme, in which they feature emerging Australian designers. A main pillar of work showcased within this exhibition is from Valissia, a formal-wear, Melbourne-based label founded by Ruby Valentino. She works in collaboration with her mother, Julie Simonelli-Valentino, an experienced bridal couturier. Both women’s teachings can be traced one generation further to the grandmother, Angela Simonelli. A former machinist, her sewing was bred out of necessity; repairing and reusing materials to make blankets, scarves, handkerchiefs, whatever was needed. Reflecting on her approach, she has told Demure magazine that she “come[s] from a Sicilian culture shaped by the Baroque,” a stylistic era that celebrates the ornate and the enduring. In this context, resourcefulness and the creation of garments built to last were central to everyday life, where craft and survival were inseparable. Valissia reflects this ethos in its commitment to timeless design; pieces made to endure, to outlive a single occasion, to be passed on. In doing so, they become containers for memory: liveable, wearable artefacts.

Though Villa Alba now stands as a grand monument, its initial purpose served domestic means. A private residence originally built for banker William Greenlaw and his wife, Anna Maria, in 1884, this villa’s cultural significance largely derives from the hand-painted murals created by the Paterson Bros (a premier art decorating firm at the time) adorning its interior. This tension between functionality and opulence is important to note in relation to Matrilineal Threads, particularly given the way textile practices have historically been undervalued and relegated to the domestic sphere, often dismissed as informal because of their association with women. This gendered labouring has relegated the crafts’ utilitarian nature to a merely decorative pursuit. However, walking into this villa, this exhibition, one encounters the two in tandem. Decoration emerges as labour realised, as the material through which lineage is carried forward. That tension dissolves in this convergence; a mirroring that exposes the artificial divide between the domestic and the culturally revered.

The hallway forms a single track in which the visitors become needles, weaving their way in and out of rooms. Fabric is strewn and positioned in various forms. Sometimes precedently hoisted on mannequins, other times lengthening itself across the floor. A lace garment drips off a coat stand, a teatowel bursts out of a 2D picture frame.

The exhibition primarily showcases bridal and formal wear — textiles and gowns being the main articulation of this. Although it does use mixed media forms to further convey the idea of inheritance and memory: video installations, photography, text, newspaper cuttings …

In the room labelled ‘2’ on the floorplan (image above), text scrawled on industrial pattern paper drapes from floor to ceiling, listing some sort of creed or litany. A manifesto that contextualises all three generations of work. This piece is titled Uncut Script (2026). On it, it reads:

“I do not make to replicate … I make to continue … to stretch what was given to me into something that can breathe now … the lace is older than me, the thread remembers another body … I am only the next pair of hands…”

The major theme here being continuation and resilience. If replication is not the goal, then innovation is. Pulling from a precursory thread, the craft continues forth into contemporary realms.

Though perhaps the most succinct summary of the exhibition is captured in the following line:

“A grandmother who sewed because she had to… A mother who designed because she believed she could … A daughter who continues because she chooses to…”

In this triad, an evolution of agency surrounding creative labour and women’s craftsmanship can be noted: from necessity, to belief, to choice. Almost as a fullstop at the end of this text, sits an intricately layered bridal dress seemingly standing on its own. Its integrity and strength feels reflective of that shared by these three women.

So goes Chantelle Lucyl’s fashion manifesto.

Her debut collection runway, Portals SS26, presented as part of PayPal Melbourne Fashion Festival, is a bold celebration of selfhood, sensuality and provocation.

Portals combines erotic wear and club culture to create a sensual universe that sits in the fractures of time and space. Entering the runway is like witnessing a sorcery ritual. A group of MFF volunteers sprinkles salt crystals around the perimeter of the runway, creating a barrier between the real world and the realm of Lucyl. Simultaneously, a webbed piece of fabric is wheeled around, the portal invitation to step into the sacred, sensual universe.

“Your garments shape your reality… The wearer must dress not for the world but for the universe they envision...”

While being a fashion show, Portals SS26 in many ways challenges a traditional runway. Featuring directions by Joyce Liu, the runway features a marked element of the theatrical. The models emerge like spirits, shifting across space with a level of lightness and fluidity. Their outfits seem to meld into their forms, becoming part of their bodies instead of as a separate adornment. A floor-length nude shift dress features a back hole through which the model’s braided hair weaves, blurring the boundaries between when the body ends and when the garment begins. Another model wears a nude top and a matching balacalva that seems to consume the model, transforming them into a new flesh-cloth hybrid creature.

“Your garments should make you feel held tightly in love.”

All the outfits are a statement towards intimacy, power and connection. Most garments feature figure-hugging silhouettes and tight cleavage that accentuates the models’ figures. The clothes don’t hide the body, but become part of it.

“Your garments do not have to be about your body. The brain is a sexual organ too.”

The designs are highly erotic, taking inspiration from strip club culture, adorned with metal chains and straps. The physical theatre section of the show displayed the sensual, sexual and interpersonal power dynamics between each model. There are moments when power is transferred, offered or invaded. Connections are formed and lost. From the level of height to the intensity of touch, speed of movement, and strength of eye contact, changes in dynamics are constant and carefully crafted. Liu’s movement directions are seamless and airy.

A nice touch to strike home the symbolism is the Club X sponsored gift bags distributed to the VIP guests, feeling like the night club has been whisked into Drill Hall.

“Your garments are a sacred timestamp”

The highlight for me is the final line-up, as a row of spectre-like models wearing breastplate-like grey outfits, march onto the stage. The earlier models are frozen in their last positions as these skeletal designs are displayed to the audience. These final looks appear to be a visual metaphor of the ultimate goal of Lucyl’s manifesto – the complete melding of the body and the cloth, where the fabric has become both skin and bones, part of the models’ DNA because of the strong bond between garment and wearer.

Chantelle Lucyl’s debut collection is a boundary-breaking provocation into the relationship between clothes and their wearer.

Blurring the lines between restraint and expression, sport and lingerie, Chantelle Lucyl’s debut collection gave an introspective look at the relationship between clothes and their wearer. The collection is certainly boundary-breaking and transcends binaries, more than a fashion brand but also a fashion philosophy.

This year, the Melbourne Fashion Festival presented us with Crescere. Its runway bloomed with a modern newness—each creation a breath of fresh air, blending nostalgia with classic stylistic details. The RMIT young creatives designed each outfit drawing on their diverse Asian heritages, exploring how to communicate these identities within an Australian landscape. Designers featured in Crescere included Eugine Zhan, Katrina Kan, Martina Wylie, Renee Yu Han Lau, Ruby Yueran Dong, and Selena Shi.

The metamorphosis of these students was palpable on the night. The pride in each piece could be felt immensely. Models merged seamlessly with the designs, truly bringing the creations to life. The gratitude of the designers was evident as they transitioned from students into successful graduates.

The runway took place in Fitzroy’s Panama dining room, a perfect setting for these looks with its modern, rustic feel. The room buzzed with family and friends, while newcomers like myself felt a quiet spark of curiosity about Crescere’s creations.

Before the runway, I browsed a small exhibition of works by the designers, beautifully poised in front of sunlit windows. Vanessa Vun’s Lost in Translation plays with the classic black blazer and trousers, disrupting formality with handcrafted landscapes in sumi ink on cotton. Designed predominantly to be viewed from the back, this piece is bold yet unassuming in its scale. The pop-up exhibition of garments and accessories offered the perfect introduction for someone like myself, unfamiliar with Crescere’s aesthetic.

The exhibition also featured works from designers Leon Zhan, Vanessa Vun, and Vivien Dao.

With every seat filled, this sold-out show was bursting at the seams. Each creation on the runway was accompanied by soft beats, giving every design a life of its own.

Designer Eugine Zhan opened the runway. Her pieces cascaded in beautifully handcrafted veils, conveying a sense of cocooning and the metamorphosis of the ever-changing human form. Inspired by nature’s shapes and colours, Zhan draws symbolic parallels between butterflies and moths. These unique designs were the perfect introduction to Crescere.

Next, Ruby Dong presented her collection Water Phoenix, inspired by Chinese cultural myths and the natural environment around her. The pieces flow organically with soft silhouettes, whimsical and playful yet dignified in their soft colour palette and meticulous attention to detail. I was entranced by Dong’s creations, viewing them with almost childlike awe.

Renee Lau deconstructed the rigid uniform through play and modernism. Seeking to convey identity often lost in standardized clothing, Lau redefined traditional office looks. Each piece felt rebellious, with details like shorter hemlines and long fabric trains. Her collection prioritises fashion over function, allowing individuality to shine.

Closing the runway, Selena Shi presented designs in swathes of bright white. True to Crescere’s focus on newness, Shi’s pieces are fully upcycled, giving new life to existing vintage materials. Her creations are chic and modern—wearable for everyday life, yet perfect for moments that demand attention. I particularly loved the contrast between sharp and soft lines in her collection, creating a cohesive yet uniquely expressive range.

Thank you Crescere for having us !

1800respect.org.au

Lifeline.org.au

“You must have given him the wrong idea”.

“Did you fight back?”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

These were just some of the evocative statements scrawled in paint across each outfit as they made their way down What Were You Wearing’s “Common Threads” independent runway.

One hung off the bias of a structured maxi wrap skirt. Another read along the back of a pair of blood red tailored pants. Some were even printed across the collars of deconstructed shirting, plainly printed in red, white and black paint.

Domestic and sexual assault victim-blaming statements, subverted as a reclamation of power for survivors.

As a part of this year’s PayPal Melbourne Fashion Festival Independent Program, Non-For-Profit organisation What Were You Wearing (WWYW) presented their runway “Common Threads”: a multidisciplinary evening that combined film, fashion, dance and discussion to explore the intersection of clothing, art, and social justice.

WWYW is an Australian based charity dedicated to ending domestic, family and sexual violence through advocacy, healing and education programs. Organised by founder Sarah Williams, in collaboration with volunteer and Head Designer Benny Reid, “Common Threads” marked the organisation’s first ever runway show, intending to reclaim the question “what were you wearing?” and explore fashion as a form of liberation and vessel for storytelling.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Held at Community Hub at The Dock in Naarm, Melbourne, guests were welcomed with ethereal live musical notes as they made their way to their seats. The unassuming venue, set against the backdrop of a sun-kissed docklands harbour, offered a warm and inviting atmosphere for the evening to commence.

As the blinds were drawn and lighting was dimmed, a Welcome To Country marked the beginning of the show, followed by a short film screening. Directed by Lili-Belle Ross, the film combined several short scenes depicting various forms of assault, from physical violence to cyberbullying.

One scene followed a young woman wearing bathers at a local pool.

“What is she wearing? She should cover up,” snickered one onlooker from under her breath.

Another scene pictured a young man forcing himself onto a female DJ at a house party.

“Get off me!” the victim yelled. The perpetrator simply smirked and rolled his eyes.

Shortly after, artist Martina Ferrara performed an interpretive dance, offering a poignant performance illustrating the debilitating effects of abuse, and the resilience that follows survivorhood.

Both the short film screening and interpretive dance were a thoughtful curation of alternate storytelling, providing a well-rounded prelude for the runway that was to follow.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first look to hit the runway featured a lilac maxi wrap-skirt with a panel of draped blood-red burnout fabric, paired with a cropped black tailored jacket. The ensemble offered a muted color palette, drawing attention to silhouette, structure and movement as the garments made their way down the runway. But as the model turned to face the back of the room, they reached behind them and slowly raised the collar of their shirt.

“Did you fight back?” read in white capital letters across the back.

As they turned another fraction, “you must have given him the wrong idea” could be seen printed in black paint across the bias of the skirt.

At an even closer look, smaller white block lettering occupied the entirety of each arm cuff.

This continued across every piece in the collection - statements printed on hem lines, the back panels of tailored jackets, shawls and trains, and plastered across the face of asymmetrical skirts and a-line mini dresses.

It was direct, honest, and impossible to look away.

Some statements read as confronting victim-blaming comments, while others offered memories, boundaries, moments of resilience, or calls to action.

“Stop killing Aboriginal women”.

“Did you report it?”

“Still not asking for it”.

“You can’t just change your mind”.

“Did you enjoy it?”

All garments featured in the collection stuck to a mature colour palette of varying shades of red, white, black and gold, drawing attention to the weight of the painted words, and spotlighting the thoughtful construction of each piece. Rich shades of red, purple, gold and white exuded passion, confidence and strength, paired back with subtle greys and blacks to let the integrity of the garments sing. Almost every look featured multiple components, utilising layering, safety pins, texture and movement to flatter a diverse range of body types.

Of the looks, one standout was a pair of light pink mini shorts featuring an embroidered uterus on the front seam, which Head Designer Reid described as a “little subtlety” intending to speak to “how powerful it is to be a woman”. Paired with a structured red boxy long sleeve sporting a suspended embroidery heart on the chest, the ensemble was a deliberate nod towards the internal strength and resilience womanhood represents.

Another notable design was an elegant lilac strapless maxi dress, wrapped in a blood-red structured oversized ribbon that read “still not asking for it” in capital letters.

Whilst predominantly sticking to long hemlines and feminine silhouettes, each look was accessible, honest and flattering, exuding confidence and honouring diversity in a way that celebrated the wearer.

After the final look left the runway, the chorus to Sia’s “Alive” cut through the speakers as the models returned to the runway for their final walk, each holding a cardboard sign hand-painted with more of the quotes seen featured in the garments designs.

Scanning the audience for their reactions, it was clear the hypnotizing effect the words had on those watching. Every single observer was glued to each model as they calmly moved down the runway, the viewers’ eyes eagerly studying each item for hidden messages and statements adorning each model.

They were enraptured from start to finish, transfixed by each empowering design, and every profound statement.

Traditionally, survivors of sexual and domestic violence have been blamed, questioned and judged for the crimes committed against them. This historical narrative equates clothing to consent, and silence as justice, suggesting that victims provoke the violence incited against them.

The use of such explicit statements painted across each outfit spoke to the confronting nature of abuse, whilst maintaining survivor dignity and resilience. This decision not only flipped the narrative on traditional victim-blaming notions, but platformed a sense of visibility and collective strength for survivors.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a short break, the evening concluded with a brief panel discussion between WWYW Founder Sarah Williams and Head Designer Benny Reid on the intentions of the evening, and some insight into the conceptualisation and production behind the designs.

“Common Threads” brought empathy, empowerment and understanding to a confronting issue, both as a concept and for victims-survivors, which certainly is no easy feat. The evening proved to be thoughtfully curated, and explored themes of assault and victim blaming in a considered, artful and introspective way.

Thank you What Were You Wearing for having us!

If this story raises concerns for you or someone you know, help is available:

1800respect.org.au

Lifeline.org.au

Couture Artist/designer: Linda Britten

Located: FortyFive Downstairs

Just off Melbourne’s Flinders Lane at FortyFive Downstairs, fine art photographer Pam Davison and couture designer Linda Britten have transformed the space into an immersive installation that explores memory, nostalgia, and the art of interpretation. Suspended fabrics drift like a faint memory, still-life photographs capture quiet moods, and sculptural gowns bring imagery to life. Davison’s photography does more than document. It preserves moments and moods before the garments even exist. Britten then translates these captured memories into couture, where material becomes motion, and craftsmanship becomes narrative.

Thirty metres of silk organza bloom into structured petals, while forty metres of tulle swell into movement that echoes wind and water. Petals are wired, stiffened, and hand-beaded into permanence. Birds glint in intricate beadwork like heirloom brooches. Bias-cut strips ripple like tide lines, while corsetry provides unseen structure beneath fairy-like delicacy. Every detail, from the layering of fabric to the meticulous beadwork speaks of patience, precision, and devotion.

Personal Favourites:

Dance of the Floral Fairy
Davison’s photograph captures the intimacy of a flower’s velvet petals, softened by light and shadow. Britten translates this fragility into a gown with exposed corsetry beneath layers of petal-like tulle, feathers woven throughout to add movement and airiness. The result is ethereal yet structured, a balance between romance and craftsmanship.

Whispers of the Tide
Constructed from weightless georgette and tulle, this gown evokes a quiet, grey shoreline. A hand-beaded driftwood branch contrasts against the softness of the fabric, while the flowing georgette mirrors the movement of the sea. The piece feels alive, moving as though it is in rhythm with the tide itself.

Petals of Gold, Pearls of Water
A personal favourite, this gown radiates warmth and serenity. Cinched at the waist, it blooms into voluminous layers of amber and gold, hand-beaded droplets glinting like pearls across each petal. The interplay of rich colour and delicate detailing creates a comforting, grounding effect.

If you are interested in fashion or couture artistry as I am, this installation serves as a reminder of this dying craft. In a world dominated by fast fashion and mass production, the labour behind a single couture gown is often overlooked. Hours of hand-beading, wiring, layering, and reconstructing fabric until it becomes sculpture is a testament to artistry. Experiencing these garments in person the patience, precision, and care embedded in every detail reminded me why couture remains an essential form of creative expression.

The DIVA Exhibition currently running at the Arts Centre Melbourne celebrates the trailblazing iconic performers and explores the rich and complicated history of the concept of the diva. The story of the diva in this space is shared through clothing, costume and memorabilia. It is quite mind-bending to be inches away from a dress Marilyn Monroe, Liza Minnelli, Kylie Minogue, Rihanna or Elton John wore. An outfit worn at the Met Gala, or the opening of the Olympics, featured in a film or a music video, something that has almost become inseparable from the person who wore it. Articles we have seen in image time and time again, the outfits themselves have become some form of personality, of celebrity.

The DIVA exhibition winds through the history of performance, from opera and silent films to contemporary music and performance. Highlighting some of the notable performers and social disruptors of the time, delving into their contributions to the arts and culture we can see the industry adapt over the course of time. DIVA will be running until April 26.

The exhibition showcases masterpieces that would have merely begun somewhat as ordinary as a roll of fabric in a warehouse. Which then comes to fruition in the creative hands and minds of teams and teams of people, and is then given life by the performer. The two become one in a way which escapes the ability to describe with words.

TO SOME FASHION MAY BE AS INSIGNIFICANT IN MEANING AS A BLANK PIECE OF PAPER OR A GRAIN OF SAND ON A BEACH. UNREMARKABLE AND EXISTING AMONGST MILLIONS OF THE SAMENESS. BUT TO OTHERS IT IS THE GATEWAY OF COMMUNICATION WHICH TRANSCENDS LANGUAGE ITSELF. INTENTIONAL DECISION MAKING AND CURATED IDEAS TO EXECUTE A MOMENT WHICH CAN LAST FOR GENERATIONS. NOTHING IS BY ACCIDENT; IT IS ALL BY DESIGN. FOR IT TO LOOK EFFORTLESS IS A SKILL. A SYMBOLIC REPRESENTATION OF PROTEST, STORYTELLING, INFORMATION, SEXUALITY, GRANDEUR. AND IF YOU CAN USE THIS TO ACTION A MESSAGE, THEN WHY NOT? WE ARE SHOWN THIS THROUGH THE ACTIONS OF PEOPLE LIKE NINA SIMONE, EARTHA KITT, ARETHA FRANKLIN DURING THE 1960s AND 70s. USING THEIR ARTISTRY TO INSPIRE AND INCITE POSITIVE CHANGE AND REAL POLITICAL CONVERSATIONS SUCH AS INSTITUTIONAL RACISM, INDUSTRY NORMS AND GENDER DYNAMICS.

THE ORIGIN OF THE WORD DIVA COMES FROM AN ITALIAN AND LATIN ROOT, DYEU, MEANING TO SHINE, GODDESS, DEITY, LINKING SKY, HEAVEN AND GOD. THIS OVER TIME MORPHS INTO A DESCRIPTION OF A HIGHLY REGARDED AND DISTINGUISHED FEMALE SINGER DURING THE RISE OF OPERA PERFORMANCES IN THE 1800s, SEEING IT PUBLISHED FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 1883. USED BOTH TO COMPLIMENT AND MOCK THE PERFORMERS, THE WORD DIVA BEGINS TO BE SYNONYMOUS WITH SOMEONE WHO IS DIFFICULT TO PLEASE, A COMPLAINER, SELF-ABSORBED AND ONE-DIMENSIONAL. THIS CONCEPT THEN SEEMS IDEOLOGICALLY CEMENTED IN OUR VOCABULARY AS IN 2015 THE OFFICIAL DEFINITION OF A DIVA ACCORDING TO THE OXFORD DICTIONARY INCLUDED ‘A PERSON, TYPICALLY A WOMAN, WHO IS SELF-IMPORTANT, TEMPERAMENTAL AND EXTREMELY DEMANDING’.

HOW DOES A WORD ROOTED IN THE DIVINITY BECOME AN INSULT? DOES A DIVA EXIST PURELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT AND SCRUTINY? ARE THEY NOT AN ARTIST THAT HAS THE TALENT TO BE SEVERAL ARCHETYPES TO COMFORT THE EXPECTATIONS OF AN AUDIENCE, BUT IS ALL OF THEM AND NONE AT ALL ONCE THEY ARE ON THEIR OWN AND THE CURTAIN HAS FALLEN, AND THE CREDITS HAVE ROLLED THROUGH? THE AUDIENCE VIEWS BUT A FLEETING MOMENT IN THE RICH AND COMPLEX LIFE OF THE PERFORMER. ONE SHOT INTO ASTRONOMICAL FAME SEEMS TO AN OUTSIDER AS ONE WHO IS FREE BUT IN REALITY, IS BOUND BY EXPECTATION AND REPUTATION. THERE IS POWER IN THE ABILITY TO DISRUPT AND RECLAIM A SOCIAL CONCEPT AND CHANGE ITS MEANING. EVIDENTLY THE PERCEPTION OF THE DIVA EVOLVES OVER AND OVER AGAIN, SOME IN A POSITIVE WAY AND ALSO NEGATIVELY. OVER TIME WE WITNESS HOW ICONIC PERFORMERS USE AND THEN SHATTER THE MOULD, CREATING NEW ONES AND DESTROYING THEM AGAIN.

See DIVA for yourself, running until April 26th at the Arts Centre Melbourne.

More than a traditional runway, Obsecure unfolded as a captivating ten-minute performance that left the audience wanting more. Guests stood against the walls as models moved through the centre, weaving around a set made of fabric draped between metal stands and wall hangings of white T-shirts sewn together. The show opened with a sense of childlike wonder with models clutching plush toys, exchanging playful handshakes, and curtsying to the camera. As the performance progressed, characters became more self-assured, radiating a magnetic energy. One model picked up an Oscar statue, accepting it as if she just won and celebrated as she continued her walk.

Throughout the show, models engaged with the set, slipping on blazers, and grabbing accessories mid-walk to complete their looks. This interactive element drew the audience deeper into the moment, and truly set the show apart. After being deeply moved by the runway, I connected with stylist Ghani Arsiono and movement director JJ Le to gain insight into the creative vision behind Obsecure. Together, they offered an intimate look into the process of translating SKANT’s concept of freedom and play into a tangible and unforgettable experience, revealing how deeply personal the show was.

The quote “play is the most serious thing we do” from the campaign rollout really stood out to me. What does this philosophy represent to you? How did that idea shape your creative process for the show?

Ghani

Fashion is self-expression, and within that, there’s always room for play and wonder. I just turned 24 and my family keep reminding me that I’m at the age where I should probably settle into a full-time job and start taking life more seriously. But a big part of me is doing the opposite; I’m reconnecting with my inner child.

I grew up in a religious household where gender conformity was expected, and because of that, I distanced myself from that playful side growing up. As I’ve gotten older and more independent, I’ve realised that I want to live and play for myself. This idea hasshaped my creative process and the way I style my subjects. Each look feels like a different persona of me that I’ve kept hidden for so long; now it’s time to let them out and be free. Maybe this is me finally introducing everyone to the real me.

JJ

For this year’s show, I was involved towards the end when we were finalising the curation and configuring the performance. The quote was a factor, among many that I had to consider when imagining how the theme was executed. My interpretation of the quote is one mindfully expressing play to the point of practice, trying to approach everything with play rather than taking themselves seriously.

When I was directing models, I told them that nothing was wrong, there was no mistake in trying to express a character, and every movement could be fun. It’s different from a traditional runway: being serious, not moving your face, trying to keep your posture good, and your walk straight are boring and not what SKANT was trying to give.

The runway evoked nostalgia for a time when dressing up was purely about play and self-expression. Is there a moment in your own life that captures that spirit? And did it influence how you approached this project creatively?

Ghani

I have fond childhood memories from when I was living in Jakarta, and my cousins and I would play pretend. I’d always choose or make up female characters. Back then, I didn’t know what gender norms were. There were no rules inside that bedroom, just a bunch of boys lost in their own fantasies. I always wanted to wear skirts or wrap myself in my aunt’s blankets, pretending they were Marie Antoinette or princess ball gowns. I think that’s where it all started.

JJ

I was more inspired by the relationship between the muse and model, which was popular in the ‘90s. For example, John Galliano’s work with his models and shows at Dior and the end of his time at Margiela. It was such a spectacle. In a sense, the model’s job is to play dress-up in the designer’s clothes, but they’re so captivating because they are playing characters too. Not in the way an actor does, but in an almost child-like way, because it’s a moment of fantasy between everyone in the room, entrusting each other to suspend their belief.

What do you think is driving consumers’ desire for escapism in fashion, and how is this reflected in the industry’s embrace of freedom and playfulness?

Ghani

I think we all look for freedom and playfulness as a form of escapism, a way to reconnect with what we’ve lost, missed or still yearn for. Fast fashion plays a part in that, as trends move so fast these days, and it’s unrealistic to expect everyone to just stop buying it. But I think playfulness can come from anywhere; it’s beyond rules or boundaries. It’s already within us, and that’s what makes it such a powerful escape.

I’m always chasing that sense of freedom and playfulness because I grew up being told that boys should dress like boys, with certain silhouettes and certain looks. That restriction really caged me in and is why I’m constantly seeking freedom from judgment. I’m in awe of people who dress purely for themselves, like Candy Brat, I absolutely adore her. I still have walls I’m trying to break through, but through SKANT I’ve started taking small steps towards that freedom.

JJ

We’re looking for playfulness because pretentiousness has overcome a lot of the creative spirit, especially in Melbourne. Generally, you can attribute this need for creative freedom and playfulness to the cultural individualism that’s grown from capitalist politics at the moment.

SKANT was created to showcase how fashion can turn into art. Do you see fashion as inherently art, or as a medium that can be transformed into art? How, if at all, do fast fashion and mass consumption influence this perception?

Ghani

Fashion is absolutely art, and the line between the two is impossible to separate. The act of creating, designing, styling and even the show itself is art. We collaborated with Jevons Wang and Megan Duong to build a dramatic set using industrial materials, white shirts sewn into the structure, and a centrepiece that played with fabric and shadows. They went through so many ideas and versions before finalising the design to make sure the set perfectly complemented the show and its essence. The sewn-in wall draping behind the guests literally turned fashion into art, which was the goal. I’ve always believed fashion is art. Just look at icons like Rei Kawakubo, Hussein Chalayan, John Galliano, Miguel Adrover and all the emerging creatives who treat clothing as a medium for storytelling and expression. Playing devil’s advocate here, I’d say even fast fashion and mass consumption are part of the art ecosystem. Fast fashion isn’t art itself, but it fuels this ecosystem. The problems it creates push designers to think differently, create beyond the norm, and that chaos sparks creativity.

JJ

I don’t think fashion is inherently art. I went to art school, and I believe that art is an intentional reflection of the current culture. In this sense, it’s a medium that can be turned into art, but fashion is such a business. Brands like Shein and such come to mind, but even at the top level in the greatest houses, the intent of a collection gets muddied.

I think SKANT is an art exhibition. It’s a live performance piece of Ghani’s perspective on play, designers he admires, cultivating community and the lifestyle of a consumer. I think a lot of people felt it in the room; the idea was directly communicating with everyone watching, so there’s so much to be said about the show.

JJ, what was the rehearsal process like for this project and was the movement choreography collaborative with each model?

About a month before the show, Ghani and I met to discuss Obsecure in relation to the movement, and it was a major factor in making this a show rather than a normal runway. I saw the designs for the stage and production and was inspired by the shadow aspect of the set design. The model’s positioning in front of the sheets had to be very specific, and I really had to push them to move to make an interesting shadow, not just being the character.

A couple of weeks after our meeting, we had some models come in for a fitting. At first, I advised them to channel a character, and we built from there. I emphasised that the perspective of a child playing a character was key for Obsecure. For some models, it came naturally, whilst for others it didn’t click instantly. For our model Keshav, I pushed the sexiness he felt into a scenario: an Italian woman in a piazza approaching a saucy date. We even practised with some Italian music for him to really channel it, and I gave him a bottle of wine too, since I knew props were going to be a big part of this year. Slowly, it just came to life; he exuded this character and had so many ideas on how to play with the audience and his body. In the end, his performance was such a highlight for everyone! We were so proud.

Other models I met on the day, and we only had the final run-through two hours before the show to practice. A few of them had never done a runway before, so many elements were challenging. But I think that perspective added an interesting layer to the show. While we were rehearsing, a few of them inspired each other, which was sweet. Jess and Bailey came up with their little kiss in the middle of rehearsal and surprised all of us. Karen and Jevons had such great chemistry, so they also had each other to look to.

Ghani, through your Instagram project Closet Exploration, you explore friends’ wardrobes and play dress up. How did this project influence the runway show, and which concept came first?

Closet Exploration started as a fun little concept I came up with about a year ago. I styled a friend of mine using pieces from my own wardrobe for an independent New York magazine called Elated Magazine. Recently, I was at my close friend Annabel Le’s space and asked if I could play around styling her, and that’s where the spark to turn it into something consistent started.

We developed Obsecure in early August; the idea of playfulness and childlike creativity was already part of it. But after Closet Exploration, I realised how much the two overlapped. It made sense to blend them to make it more personal and sustainable. Sourcing from op shops and working with emerging slow fashion creatives is one thing, but honestly, why buy more when you can play dress-up in your friends’ wardrobes?

Ghani, what are your future hopes for these projects and exploring the concept further?

My hope for SKANT is to build a community, a kind of creative house where we can explore new concepts and showcase even more work from emerging artists. I’d love for us to grow bigger and become more recognisable, so people see something and go, ‘that’s SKANT, baby. ’

I’d also love to host more events beyond the runway. I don’t totally know what the future holds, and I kind of like that. The unknown keeps it exciting. The one thing I’m sure of is that SKANT is going somewhere BIG. I can feel it!

Event Organiser – SKANT Agency

Set Design – Jevons Wang, Megan Duong

Visual Design – Eliana Roxas

Performance Director – JJ Le

Garment Curation and Styling – Ghani Arsiono, assisted by JJ Le

Backstage Assistant - Renuka

Featuring pieces from – j.u.n.k.xyz, Tasar, Shop Room and E

Photographer: Josh Rountos

‘The Future,’ in collaboration with Melbourne Fashion Week, took over Kensington Town Hall, featuring 28 designers and drawing an eclectic art-loving crowd to the westside.

The night before walking for the Emerging Artists’ Collective show (produced and birthed by the wonderful Kat Stevens), I was wracked with anxiety about modelling in such a large show. My hands kept shaking and visions of tripping over, ala carrie bradshaw, followed my subconscious like a bad tic.

When I arrived for my call time, still shaking under my le specs, every model I spoke to was feeling a similar cocktail of excitement and terror deep in their stomach. Thank god. The hall was teeming with gorgeous people in surprisingly understated outfits. I noticed many of the designers and models arrive in plain tees and jeans, and even Kat herself was directing the whole operation in simple tailored black trousers, merrells and a pink button up shirt. Fashion is for the players here, and coaches don’t play.

It was a sea of people backstage. the room ran hot with a shared current of intense concentration, and everyone’s excitement ricocheted off everyone else’s. The buzzing air was punctuated with the occasional cloud of steam from the garment racks, showers of MAC fix+, and bursts hairspray onto glossy heads. I felt tides of hands pull me to the makeup chair. Us fresh-faced models were slowly painted into visions of pat mcgrath, carved out of shadow. There was an incredible variety of aesthetics, some coquette and blushing, some slicked back and elegant, some chaotic and flamboyant. A veritable fashion charcuterie board.

Many of the looks embodied a heightened Camp, with reverence for the classics, plenty of homages to McQueen, Galliano, and Westwood (all favourites of student and emerging designers). All looks shared a throughline of maximalist textures, historical reference, and sculptural audacity. Headpieces and piled high powdered wigs were a favourite, and designers were sending models down the runway with hands full of trinkets and dripping in jewels. Everything was decadent and kitsch and fun.

My designer, Lucy Bourne, selected one of the show’s more minimal looks for me, a simple backless charcoal grey dress with a train. An unsettling and sculptural Cristóbal Balenciaga-esque apparition from a 30s salon. I was pulled deeper backstage for hair touch ups, brushes and gelled hands piled on more and more and after each step, I felt myself get into character. I felt very sleek and severe, with my hair slicked and black packed onto my eyelids. This was the furthest I could look from me.

One thing people don’t know about the guts of a runway show is that it involves a lot of waiting around. There’s hours of time to kill before everyone scrambles and it all bursts past you from the front row. Slow slow slow then a rush at the end. I got to know a few of the faces behind the looks you saw that night. The models were plucked from everywhere, and at every level of experience. Mark and Sibi were walking for the first time, flying in from Sydney and taking the day off highschool to attend. While others like Camila, Samara and Renuka were seasoned professionals, and had the blisters to prove it.

Cigarettes were passed around to soothe nerves, and everyone had a kind word for each other’s looks. People often stopped each other to compliment their walks, and everyone returned the love with tips for managing in heels or an eruption of cheers and dancing for anyone who recorded a tiktok. Sincerity was in abundance that night, irony had forgotten about us in that hall for a few hours.

The 60 or so models and I lined up outside back of the town hall in hushed voices listening to guests take their seats. My heels hurt. But they were saint laurent so I shouldn’t complain.

After four rehearsals and plenty of nicotine, I walked as if my character, dark and elegant, had taken over my movements. Possession in stillettos.

Paraphrasing Bliss Foster, a good runway show is a liminal space that sits outside of time. Clothes aren’t paraded in front of a crowd, as much as characters are presented to an audience of hungry identity hunters. The clothes, the styling, the choice of model, the music, the makeup, the hair, all build a hypothetical human that walks past you for a moment. Then they disappear, only to live on in your mind and in your gallery. They offer a sliver of an alternative reality that you could embody.

Fashion people and theatre kids aren’t too dissimilar — one just has better style. And as for finding god, my little atheist heart found it in other people that night. In their daydreaming and stubborn grit. In their softness under the chiffon armour. In their collective effort and commitment to excellence, and their love of the game.

Show Credits:

Director and Producer: Emerging Artists Collective / Kat Stevens

Lighting: Rhy Dyball

Stylists: Autumn-Grace Gliddon and Mietta Grigg

Graphic Designer: Annalise Galea

Kensington Sketch: Louis Howarth

Music: Niamh Kinsella

Poster Team: Jackson Kemelfield, Eve Louise and PeywenHwang

Flowers: Bloomin Heck

Designers: …Misato Yukimoto, 404 Pieces, Annie Berry, Bijoux by Sasha, By Sponza, Chelsea Farquhar, Darcey, Daysi, Drenched in Jewels, Faeble, Ineska, Irl, Jemma Phelan, Karma Corbett, Lucy Bourne, Madison Grace, Mondaine, Paris Jade Burrows, Phillipa Signorelli, Pkopz, Planet X, Semi-Circle, Stellah Studios, Summer and Max, Tiffany Forbes, Ursula Bucek, Valentina Barrios, and Valentina Valentino.

Amongst a room full of Comme des Garçons, visitors can explore a curated collection of 16 books and magazines examining beauty, makeup, hair, fashion, and photography, and how these have evolved over time.

If you’re anything like me and you love the ’90s, Shalom Harlow and Kate Moss included, then Gavin Bond’s hardcover Being There is an absolute must. Sure, we can scroll through Vogue Runway looks online or catch clips on TikTok, but this book takes you backstage at some of the most iconic shows of the decade. You can feel the energy, chaos, and glamour of ’90s fashion through print. Bond’s images are simple, raw, and candid, capturing intimate moments with some of the world’s biggest supermodels and designers.

Another standout is i-D Wink and Smile! The First Forty Years. Published in 2022, this book celebrates four decades of the magazine, showcasing different eras of fashion and photography, and how pop culture and the industry have shaped each issue over time.

As an avid fan of Euphoria and its dedication to fashion and eccentric makeup, I thoroughly enjoyed browsing Euphoria Fashion by Heidi Bivens. Published in 2024 by A24, it showcases every iconic outfit, with interviews from designers and brands that loaned pieces for the show, highlighting how costume and beauty choices help translate story and emotion on screen.

Bronx-born photographer and director Renell Medrano evokes the feel of an early 2000s Dolce & Gabbana or Dior campaign in Volume 2 of ICE Magazine. But rather than replicating the male-gazed aesthetics of that era, this issue focuses on how women see and celebrate each other. Just by browsing through it, I could sense a strong presence of power and identity, expressed through some fabulous styling and creative direction that’s truly captivating and exciting to look at.

If you weren’t able to visit the store and want to check out their selection of books and magazines from the pop-up, I’ve attached the link to their website below.

Website link: https://tomorrowpublications.com/collections/mfw-beauty-collection

Fashion show’s audiences aren’t just observers; they are active participants whose style often mirrors the runway’s key themes and trends. Together, the audience’s outfits and the runway show paint a full picture of Melbourne’s fashion scene, from the inspiration of emerging designers to current streetwear trends. ‘The Future’ blended a wide range of aesthetics, from Lucy Bourne’s timeless sculptural designs to Paris Jade Burrow’s gothic avant-garde pieces. The audience reflected this eclectic display, providing an insight into Melbourne’s endlessly creative spirit and showcasing how runway trends can be adapted for streetwear.

Attendees played with traditionally feminine and masculine elements, thoughtfully blending flowing silhouettes and sheer fabrics with structured designs and tough fabrics. The vulnerability of lace was paired with structured leather pieces and chunky chain necklaces. Whether these ideas were the premise of an outfit or a small detail, such as layered chain necklaces paired with a dress and lace trousers, they created a powerful tension. Paris Jade Burrow’s debut collection ‘Its Real if it Bleeds’ communicates vulnerability and fear though sheer fabrics. The X-Ray Slashed Edwardian Top and Skirt Set speak to the designers lived experience as a young queer Australian, with the Edwardian style referencing the extreme changing views of gender and sexuality from the 1870s to the 1920s. The audiences intentional approach to layering acts as a conceptual statement, contrasting the exposing nature of sheer fabrics with the protection offered by rigid textiles and traditionally masculine designs. The outfits reflect the changing themes of gender in fashion and speak to a modern understanding of self, where femininity and masculinity coexist in one’s personal style.

Looking beyond fabrics and silhouettes, the audience championed individuality and personalisation through accessories, supporting the rise of DIY culture that has grown over the past few years. Nods to the punk scene were everywhere, with layered chains, scattered charms and pins onjackets or bags, and statement belts framing outfits throughout the crowd. Plaid prints and unique headpieces were popular, inserting a maximalist, rebellious feel to the show. No designer captures this essence better than Darcey Burch,whose models walked the runway adorned with jewels, charms and chains. From intricate headwear pieces to sunken treasure chests bags, every detail pushed the boundaries of art and fashion. Rather than merely decorating an outfit, DIY accessories and details were a statement around individual identity whilst celebrating the wearer’s love of art and creativity. This contributes to the wider conversation surrounding fast fashion’s impact on cultural identity, where constant trend cycles overshadow personal style. By customising and creating their own pieces, wearers reclaim the narrative, using fashion to reflect their values and hopes for a future of fashion based on authenticity and creativity rather than imitation and superficiality.

Overall, the attendees’ aesthetic was deeply rooted in 90s and early 2000s nostalgia, ranging from minimalistic 90s matching singlets and maxi skirts, to colourful 2000s capris. Foundational pieces like shoes and bags reflected this, with the crowd favouring Dr Martens, a nod to 90s grunge culture, or slingback heels that offered a softer, more feminine contrast. Thrifted garments were paired with vintage Coach and Guess bags, with the vast majority of the audience choosing to invest in archival pieces rather than support fast fashion. As fast fashion pushes a new it-girl bag every week, the EAC crowd rebelled, choosing conscious shopping and distinctive pieces. 90s and 2000s fashion embraced slinky fabrics and awkward lengths, creating a balance between simplicity and elegance. Slow fashion label By Sponza captured this perfectly on the runway, with a grey flowing halter neck dress which references early 2000s and cyber-goth aesthetics. Though minimal in nature, these designs carried high impact, with a strong focus on refined silhouettes that highlighted the body’s natural shape.

The relationship between the runway and the crowd is more than mere imitation, it establishes a dialogue between what trends currently resonate and what will define the season ahead. EAC showcases the future of Australian designers on the runway, while the audience embodies the reality of Melbourne fashion today, a quiet rebellion against fast fashion and loss of individuality. Through two sold out Melbourne Fashion Week shows, EAC continues to remind us of the power of community and counterculture in shaping the future of fashion.

Images by: Molly Burmeister and Karen Song

Show Credits:

Director and Producer: Emerging Artists Collective / Kat Stevens

Lighting: Rhy Dyball

Stylists: Autumn-Grace Gliddon and Mietta Grigg

Graphic Designer: Annalise Galea

Kensington Sketch: Lewis Howarth

Music: Niamh Kinsella

Poster Team: Jackson Kemelfield, Eve Louise and PeywenHwang

Flowers: Bloomin Heck

Designers: …Misato Yukimoto, 404 Pieces, Annie Berry, Bijoux by Sasha, By Sponza, Chelsea Farquhar, Darcey, Daysi, Drenched in Jewels, Faeble, Ineska, Irl, Jemma Phelan, Karma Corbett, Lucy Bourne, Madison Grace, Mondaine, Paris Jade Burrows, Phillipa Signorelli, Pkopz, Planet X, Semi-Circle, Stellah Studios, Summer and Max, Tiffany Forbes, Ursula Bucek, Valentina Barrios, and Valentina Valentino.

Curated by Amelia Saward, ‘Hysterical Legacies’ is a collaborative visual arts exhibition providing a platform for chronically ill, disabled, and neurodivergent women and non-binary artists. Acting as a response to continued sexist stereotypes and narratives that paint those with unexplained symptoms, physical or intellectual differences, as ‘hysterical’, the exhibition uncovers the ever-changing landscape of women’s health and societal perceptions of women’s illness.

‘Hysterical Legacies’ includes 94 artworks of a diverse range of mediums, including short films, digital artworks, collages, poems, sculptures, lino prints, screen printings, paintings and garments. Displayed in the main corridor running through the heart of Queen Victoria’s Women’s Centre, the city’s centre of gender equality, this exhibition further provides support and a platform for those who need it most.

The first artwork I was met with as I began walking through the exhibition was ‘Female Dog I and II’ by Nicole Robertson, an artist specialising in linocut. The prints depict two female figures, one with a dog’s head and notable leg hair in a squatting position, the other female figure on her knees with her arms positioned to mimic a dog begging. Robertson portrays her experiences as a woman living with PCOS, a chronic illness impacting her hormones, weight, hair and fertility. When speaking of her experience of managing PCOS, she describes herself as “a ‘good girl’, dutifully following orders in hopes that her naturally unruly body may finally comply”, as reflected in this piece. Through her unique, humorous and brutally honest voice and the mythological imagery consistent throughout her work, she articulates her experience of living with a chronic illness, along with the mental and physical exhaustion of managing symptoms.

As I continued to walk through the exhibition, what I found most notable was the juxtaposition between the truth pouring out of these artists and the false remarks thrown at them by society. Throughout the exhibition, there were endless confessions within these artworks, words that seemed to be scratching at the back of the artist’s throat. “When I was a girl, I wished for a scar - a prominent mark across my face”, “I don’t feel like myself”, “I will never trust the music industry ever again because of this”, “As the seasons change, I am somewhat overwhelmed and overcome”.

Such confessions were contrasted with remarks and beliefs rooted in misogyny or ableism, all too familiar to women, especially those in queer or disabled communities. “Ultimate cure: sex”, “witch!”, “lazy”, ‘no need to get hysterical”, “menstrual pain is a myth”. These harmful comments not only trivialise physical and emotional pain but also reinforce a culture of disbelief, where suffering is dismissed as exaggeration or weakness.

Donata Uncanin’s textiles and mixed media piece ‘Hystera = Uterus I and II’, explores such harmful remarks and how Hysteria is derived from the Greek word ‘hystera’, which means ‘uterus’. Originating in Ancient Greece, the ‘wandering womb’ theory was used to discriminate against childless women and lazily diagnose women experiencing symptoms such as anxiety, fatigue, breathlessness, fainting, emotional distress, paralysis and seizures. The theory stated that when the female reproductive system was ‘inactive’ and they were not fulfilling society’s expectation to have a child, the womb would wander and cause illness around the body. Unpacking this theory and its lasting impact on how women’s health is treated and viewed today, in ‘Hystera = Uterus I and II’, Uncanin sews the male misconception that the ‘ultimate cure’ is ‘sex’ in blue thread, whilst women’s anger and true experience are sewn in red.

‘Hysterical Legacies’ stands as a powerful reminder of the importance of giving artists a platform to share their lived experiences and challenge oppressive narratives. By exploring themes of women’s health, queer identity, and disability, the exhibition confronts the institutional misogyny and prejudice that persist when left unexamined, creating vital space for awareness and positive change. Through open dialogue and artistic expression, it urges audiences to reconsider long-held biases, fostering equality, empathy, and respect. In doing so, ‘Hysterical Legacies’ does more than dismantle the enduring myth of ‘hysteria’ and the stereotype of the ‘hysterical woman’, it reclaims the narrative entirely, transforming silence into collective strength.

‘Hysterical Legacies’ is showcased at Queen Victoria’s Women’s Centre from the 8th to the 24th of October.

Artists featured: Ali Griffin, Alice Marie Martin, Arlo Carracher, Autumn Tansey, Aven Hodges, Belle Zipper, Bernie Why, Billie Morris, Catherine Ivrea, Cee Frances, Dana Kabaila, Danielle Cook, Delphine Bynre, Donata Uncanin, Eden Menta, Eugenie Gullifer-Laurie, Franziska Hannig, Gallatea.x (Taya Van Beuge), Halle Brown, Holly Goodridge, Jordan Derwent, Jordan Wood, Kelly McBabe, Larissa MacFarlane, Lisa Mabin, Lisa Plant, Liu Liu, Lucy Nguyen, Marilyn Tuna, Megan Williams, Melanie Hoult, Michele Fountain, Michelle Harrington, Nicole Robertson, Nix Briarwood, Paula Jasmine, Poppy Fowler, Priya Gandhi, Rachel Edmonds, Rasa Kabaila, Ruby Wyatt Carter, Sabio, Sally Townsend, Sinead Creaney, Stephanie Elicia Rushworth, Steph Watt, Sunniva Innstrand, Tess Hider, and Tina Sheers.