In December, Phoebe Philo, the luxury womenswear brand, sent an email to subscribers. The subject line read, simply: “texture”. Inside was a short video clip of a jumbo cord-like fabric with the thickness of udon noodles but a texture similar to tripe. It belonged to a shearling trench coat and was a perfect, digitally tactile representation of a mood that has been percolating in fashion. That this recent clarion call came from Philo, who has long been an industry sage, makes it all the more potent.
Battered leather, fuzzy mohair, raw silk, coarse wool, ruched tulle and hyperbolically soft cashmere; texture comes in many guises and fashion wants in on all of them. “We have seen designers be a lot more bold when playing with textures,” says Kay Barron, fashion director at Net-a-Porter and Mr Porter. She cites ruffles, lace and chiffon at Valentino and notes “a lot of metallics, including wearable sequins, embellishments and chainmail from brands such as Jil Sander”. Elsewhere, fringing and tassels dangle from skirts and dresses in a jellyfish-like manner. The year’s It-shoe has not just been a ballet flat but a meshed ballet flat, gridded like a sieve. And the jacket of the autumn was buttery-soft brown suede.
Performers have used textured costumes to try to connect with audiences. At Coachella in April, Doja Cat’s undulating hair outfit was a textural highlight in a year full of them. She told British Vogue at the time that she “wanted this show to feel like a textural fever dream”. The tactile mood has oscillated from magazine covers, too. Recent issues of Vogue have seen Sza in a deeply ridged aran knit and Suki Waterhouse in a Bottega Veneta coat that looks like a beautifully elevated Koosh ball. Online, Nara Aziza Smith has been mesmerising the world, making kimchi among other dishes while wearing dresses of sequin-scales.
Why do we find ourselves in a halcyon era for texture? Some of it is down to the turbulent times we are living in; while some people may opt for darker styles, others seek “more playful outfits”, believes Alice Crossley, a senior foresight analyst at trend forecasting firm The Future Laboratory. Certain textures lean into this. Look, for one, to the textured designs of Chet Lo, who is known for his puckered knitwear, inspired by anything from concrete pavement to sea urchins.
16Arlington’s Marco Capaldo is another designer working masterfully with texture. For his latest collection, snakeskin-print pants nestled underneath furry coats and dresses looked like they had been rolling around in haystacks. “Texture, for me, is more than just a visual element — it’s a way to create a deeper experience with a garment,” explains Capaldo. It has an ability to “transform proportions and take colour in new directions,” as well as “give life to a piece beyond what’s immediately apparent”. When done right, texture can create an emotional connection with clothes, he believes — anyone who has rubbed the cashmere of someone they care about will know what he means.
Clothes that invite touch could also have a role in stilling anxious minds, especially of younger generations such as “Gen Z and Alpha, who are growing up very overstimulated,” says Crossley, referencing increased exposure to digital screens. It’s the basis of clothes and jewellery with inbuilt fidget spinners, she notes.
A craving in our digital, post-Covid world for touch has led to an appreciation for “the actual physical materiality of clothing on our bodies,” says London College of Fashion’s senior lecturer in cultural and historical studies Sara Chong Kwan. She thinks there is a revaluing of what we find important: 50 to 100 years ago in Western philosophy the visual was seen as more important and “touch was seen as a lower sense”. Looking at the revaluing of textile art as one example and the rise of ASMR as another, she sees evidence for touch finally getting its dues.
There might be a commercial imperative to tactile clothes, too. Online, coarse, dramatic textures will stand out in ways that flatter fabrics won’t. In the physical world, retailers have tried to coax shoppers back with hyperphysical experiences, and the promise of particularly rich or interesting fabrics to touch.
Sandra Sándor, the creative director of Nanushka, thinks “one of the most magical moments about fashion and seeing the garments in person, is to feel and touch. This comes very naturally when you’re physically moving through a store, you walk from rail to rail and you tend to be drawn to the pieces that have textures that pique your interest.”
Patrick Fagan, an expert in behavioural science who lectures at London College of Fashion, points to the endowment effect. If an interesting texture can prompt a shopper to run their fingers over a garment, the likelihood of them buying it increases. The same effect could apply even for online shoppers. “If something is highly textured, the mirror neurons in your brain are going to be firing and you’ll be imagining touching it,” explains Fagan.
Texture can also draw attention to the quality, craftsmanship and potential durability of a garment. The popular woven leather bags of the moment are a perfect example, while at Nanushka, this idea is epitomised by the soft-alt nappa origami-style bags that are stitched with crochet. If craftsmanship is the new luxury, then texture is a tangible way to show that off.
As Crossley looks to the future, she predicts that people are keen to engage more of their senses. “We’re getting a bit sick of flattened 2D consumption.” Her money, in our perfume-obsessed culture, is on smell and the fact that our clothes could one day come with an accompanying scent. But for now, run your hand over that wool or chainmail and see if you can resist.
Follow us on Instagram and sign up for Fashion Matters, your weekly newsletter about the fashion industry
