Before We Start
If you’re new here, you can catch up on some recent work:
I Think, Therefore I Tastemake: My thoughts on tastemaking, influence, and intention in modern content — exploring slow style, fatigue, and what’s to come
New Year, New (Kinda the Same) Me: A year-end reflection on growth, fear, and staying honest — along with the designers and pieces that caught my eye recently
Basic? (How Japanese brands get labelled “boring” or “expensive,” and the disconnect between passion, content, and algorithm-driven taste)
I’m Not a Hater, But I Am a Hater: The current state of menswear discourse & fashion bros
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Between tracking down pieces, speaking with designers, and writing these essays, this project takes more time than my weekly screen-time report would like to admit — and your support truly does make this all possible.
Thank you for being here.
Introduction
Note: This was meant to be a quick hit for each brand — but the conversations were too good not to expand on. So, enjoy.
Let me start by saying I’ve had three glasses of wine, a sub-par steak frites, and have yet to receive my luggage since flying out on Monday the 19th and landing the following day at noon. The vibes are mild on a personal level right now — but outside of my own turmoil, the vibes are indeed high.
It’s a different environment here at A/W Men’s Fashion Week in Paris — one that feels cozier, more wholesome, and generally lowkey compared to the summer. People are bundled up, yet it’s not freezing like last January. You will see groups lingering over a glass of wine and a dessert at a local café or bar, rather than sprinting between clubs — at least from what I’ve seen so far.
This feels more my speed. For us lurkers who sit on the couch with a ginger-lemon tea, honk-shoo energy at max level, twenty tabs open trying to find the right linen jacket for the upcoming spring/summer. It’s all good, I’ve found it for you: the Linen Herringbone Zip Jacket by ssstein, of course. That said, all this cozy energy really only appears after the appointments are over.
Because once the day starts, there’s no honk-shoo energy to be found. It’s three coffees, maybe a cigarette, and Ghost Rider by Suicide playing loud enough to rattle your eardrums — anything to stay alert and engaged. You have to remain on your toes moving from showroom to showroom, interacting with designers, teams, agencies.
Thankfully, and speaking mostly from personal experience, the people you’re going to meet are far more supportive than you might expect. One common misconception I hear from people dabbling with fashion week for the first time is the fear of saying the wrong thing, asking the wrong question, or somehow getting exiled, banished, banned until further notice.
That’s simply not the case, at least within menswear and smaller showrooms. Everyone seems genuinely supportive of one another, and it’s a beautiful thing to witness. Especially in an industry that can be cutthroat, it feels like we’re slowly turning a page. From Discord servers dedicated to niche brands, to open discussions around materials and inspiration — or one of my favourite things to see — people gassing up their friends when they post a fit pic.
It’s something Oliver Warner, the founder of Conkers, touched on during our chat today. The overall level of support brands are showing one another, the lifting of years-long gatekeeping around materials and manufacturers, and the ability to share ideas freely without feeling like you’re stepping on someone’s toes. It’s a love thy neighbour type of approach — fittingly echoed in Oliver’s latest collection, titled Local.
We’ll touch on that more later.
Right, you came here for the AW26 coverage. Here was day one’s itinerary:
Day 1 — Wednesday the 21st
12:00–1:00 PM — Carter Young (Showroom)
Rescheduled after being told my luggage would arrive around this time. As Maury would say, the lie detector determined that was a lie.
1:00–1:40 PM — Rkivecity (Showroom)
2:30–3:00 PM — Conkers (Showroom)
3:30–4:00 PM — Tarvas (Showroom)
5:00–5:30 PM — Lea Boberg (Showroom)7:00–8:00 PM — J.L.A.L. (Runway Presentation)
As much as I wanted to attend, I didn’t have the strength to follow through — unfortunate, as it would’ve been a departure from typical Duchump coverage, but one that added real diversity in approach and style.
Rkivecity
“They don’t make sense to everyone — and that’s okay,” says Ritwik Khanna, founder of the Delhi-based brand rkivecity, while breaking down what he refers to as his art trousers. Inspired by the Jodhpur — a pant traditionally worn for polo — the silhouette carries a looser, wider fit through the waist and seat before tapering toward the calves and ankles. Constructed from various pairs of paint-splattered Dickies, the piece serves as a clear entry point into Khanna’s broader practice: rkivecity does not build collections from scratch.
Instead, Khanna works exclusively with second-hand garments and fabrics, preserving their integrity rather than breaking them down into fibers and reassembling them into something “new.” Many brands strip used garments back to their base materials — a process that inherently degrades quality — only to blend the result with polyester and brand it as sustainable, when it’s anything but.
With rkivecity, each piece carries a story — something to sit with as you slip your arms into a jacket or step into a pair of trousers. It’s the kind of meaning we increasingly crave from fashion, yet so often seek from the same familiar names. Meanwhile, younger designers from countries like India — places deeply rooted in narrative, style, and craft — continue to be overlooked.
Designers such as Kartik Kumra of Kartik Research have helped elevate South Asian design on a global stage, with a growing wave of emerging Indian designers following closely behind. Still, broader industry attention remains largely stagnant — despite work that often rivals, or surpasses, that of more established Western, or European, peers. “What’s happening now is confidence,” Khanna says. “People are seeing others succeed and realizing, I can do this too. But the attention still isn’t enough for the level of work being done.”
That work is clearly present here. Standout pieces included a Military Overcoat featuring a parachute-cord detail running along the right shoulder, alongside vintage coins repurposed into buttons and medallions — elements that could easily pass as legitimate badges. While these pieces carried a certain seriousness, moments of levity surfaced throughout — like the Realtree camo trousers that were reworked with a box pleat at the back and a cropped inseam, injecting playfulness into an otherwise utilitarian garment.
And perhaps most timely, the Jodhpur-inspired trousers appeared intentionally worn — stained, faded, and softened. They looked as if they’d been shaped by years of use rather than a single season, and feeling especially relevant right now in light of Prada’s latest collection.
It was a pleasure meeting Ritwik and experiencing his work in person, and I left with high hopes for him and designers operating within this emerging space. “I think what Japan experienced twenty years ago, India is experiencing now,” he shared before wrapping up our appointment. “This movement is just beginning — and it’s going to last much longer than two years.”
Here’s hoping he’s right. There is far too much untapped potential within India’s fashion landscape to remain overlooked any longer.
Conkers
Before climbing my tenth staircase of the day, I was greeted by an elderly French woman who — while somehow exchanging pleasantries — held a full conversation with me in French as I responded entirely in English. Lost in translation, but mutual all the same. No Bill Murray, no Lost in Translation subtext — just two strangers briefly coexisting on a Parisian landing.
After this short, potentially romantic moment — think Harold and Maude, maybe not — Romina Ferrari, one half of Conkers, greeted me at the door. I explained my luggage situation, stepped inside, and immediately found myself in my favourite showroom I’ve visited since starting this newsletter. The space felt personal, almost as if I were visiting Oliver Warner, founder of the British brand, at his home — a feeling that tied neatly into the wider message of the collection, titled L O C A L.
“We try to support local people wherever possible,” Warner shared while walking me through the production process. Since the pandemic, those relationships have increasingly frayed — factories closing, lifelong masters of textiles, garment dyeing, and leather-making either losing their jobs or retiring altogether. “There’s something about the human interaction, especially after COVID, that I really missed,” he said. “You walk around these factories and everyone’s forty-plus. If I can play even a small part in keeping that going, that feels important.”
That intention is felt throughout the collection, both physically and emotionally, creating a body of work where the construction and consideration shines in each piece.
The Beadle Shirt feels almost buttery to the touch — to the point where I briefly questioned whether what I was feeling was corduroy at all. The Balwen Peacoat, easily the standout for me, leans further into artistic expression. Made from undyed British wool woven by Marling & Evans (an active weaving mill in Huddersfield that was first started in 1782 — crazy!), the cloth draws heavily from Welsh Black sheep — prized for their darker tone, durability, and ability to withstand the harsher climates/landscapes of Wales.
Because the wool is left undyed and minimally processed, subtle remnants of its origin remain. Bits of grass from the fields where the sheep once roamed can still be found within the weave. Often considered “contamination,” these traces instead act as quiet markers of place and process. It’s a piece that highlights Warner’s exceptional eye for fabric, design, and purpose — blurring the lines between fashion, art, and nature. It’s no surprise the label has garnered so much attention over the past year and a half.
“Do you know what Conkers actually is?” Warner asks. I don’t even attempt a guess.
“Conkers is a horse chestnut. It comes from an English oak tree. It falls to the ground in this little nut. You drill a hole through it, thread a string, and then you hit someone else’s conker until one breaks. That’s the game.”
If we were to borrow that objective and apply it to fashion, I wouldn’t go up against Warner and Romina’s work. Confident, grounded, exciting. Even as a young brand, there’s no one breaking their conker anytime soon.
As silly as that may sound, it feels entirely true.
Lea Boberg
There’s a reason I’ve been expressing my love for British fashion more openly as of late. The UK continues to produce designers whose work feels thoughtful, grounded, and quietly radical — and Lea Boberg sits comfortably within that lineage.
After briefly losing myself in the endless maze that is Paris — think backrooms, but with wet cobblestones underfoot and cigarette smoke lingering in the air — I eventually made it to TOD Showroom, the agency Boberg has worked with for several years now. The space is helmed by Taka, who greeted me wearing what I still consider one of Stüssy’s more recent iconic pieces, the Peter Tosh print sweater.
As we made our way toward the back of the showroom, our conversation naturally drifted toward the growing desire for slower-paced fashion — a sentiment that feels increasingly relevant each year.
When I mention how much the season-less approach resonates right now, Lea doesn’t hesitate.
“I think people want to slow things down,” she says. “I like that familiarity — becoming acquainted with fabrics, understanding how they behave over time. It allows people to settle into the brand rather than constantly chasing the next thing.”
It’s easy to feel overwhelmed today. New collections arrive with entirely different sets of clothes that don’t always integrate with what came before — encouraging more consumption, more trend-chasing, more noise. Lea Boberg’s work moves in the opposite direction. Her approach is designed to be lived in, explored, and built upon over time — creating space for the wearer to form a relationship with the garments rather than simply passing through them.
It’s a philosophy rooted in longevity, familiarity, and intention — one that feels especially relevant right now. “There are quite a few fabrics I carry over season to season,” she shares. “I like the idea that people can buy into the brand slowly — build a wardrobe without feeling like they’re chasing something that disappears immediately.”
That continuity is especially clear in this collection. You can see the progress she’s made as a designer through refined variations of familiar standouts, like her D.P. trousers, alongside a wool-silk band-collared shirt that feels crisp in hand, a wool-silk band-collared shirt that feels crisp in hand, before softening beautifully with wear. “Japanese mills — they just make such beautiful fabrics,” she notes, but it’s Boberg’s restraint and sensitivity that allow those materials to truly shine.
I also can’t help but gush over the proportions of her shirting. Roomy without feeling sloppy, they’re thoughtfully designed for layering — pieces that people with bigger builds (myself included) might normally shy away from, for fear of veering into early-2000s NBA Draft Night territory. Here, that anxiety disappears.
Speaking with Lea was a reminder of how rare it is to encounter a designer so clearly in love with the process. She feels like a master in the making, and her work continues to find new buyers each season — even with a relatively quiet online presence (her website is still sitting on AW23, hehe). When I asked her about the growing attention, she laughed: “I’m honestly not very good at staying online or tracking it, so hearing that my name is coming up more is really lovely.”
It says a lot when a designer’s work resonates without an aggressive marketing push — without endless campaigns, editorials, or overly sanitized product imagery masquerading as storytelling. “I could stay in my workshop forever if I had my way,” she admits. “But it’s nice that the work resonates naturally — without having to force it.”
As attention increases, many designers feel pressure to speed up — to produce more, faster, often at the expense of quality and care. Lea works at her own pace, allowing the brand to grow organically — a method that feels increasingly rare, and one I fully stand behind. Seeing shops present her work accessibly, and in ways that show how seamlessly it integrates into daily life, only reinforces that approach.
“I hope there’s space for smaller brands,” she says, “ones focused less on spectacle and more on process. As long as stores and sales staff communicate that ethos, I think customers will understand it. Not everyone will connect with it — and that’s okay.”
Final Notes
While I did meet with Tarvas, it’s worth revisiting our previous conversation to better understand the thinking behind their quietly genius creation: the Wanderer. I also caught a glimpse of a few new colourways, including a standout mushroom tone and a soft beige — both of which felt right at home within the line.
As for my luggage, it finally arrived after nearly three days, during which I wore the same few fits to most appointments. Naturally, in keeping with the luck I’ve been having this week, I managed to lose the keys to my BnB shortly after securing my bag. There’s probably some Old Testament verse (“thou who cureth can maketh ill,” or at least that’s what Kramer said), that applies here, but it’s 4AM and I need to get some sleep before another day of chatting and playing dress-up begins.
Day 2 was exciting — and if you’ve been following along on Instagram, you’ll know exactly why.
Speak soon.
If your luggage didn’t arrive you really could have taken the “less is more approach” to the next level!
You should have been able to find something to wear there.