The house has been using the platform for some time: there it announced the arrival of Piccioli and also streams the fashion shows live.
From the Royal Academy of Antwerp to Saint Laurent, from Dior Homme to Berluti, Kris Van Assche has traversed some of the most symbolic places of European luxury. A career that seemed to follow the classic trajectory of the contemporary designer: European training, consecration in the major fashion houses, international recognition. Yet last November, after a period dedicated to cross-disciplinary projects, Van Assche chose to redefine his scope of action with a collaboration with Antazero, the sustainable and research-oriented line of the Chinese group Anta, one of the leading sportswear and lifestyle groups in China. A collection that focuses precisely on textile innovation, featuring vegan leather parkas made from mycelium (mushrooms) and eco-sustainable waterproof membranes free of PFAS, marking, among other things, the designer’s return to womenswear. A journey he discussed in a recent talk hosted by IED in Milan.
For decades, Western creatives have worked for Asian brands while remaining in the shadows, protected by strict confidentiality agreements. It was a tacit compromise that suited everyone: Chinese companies acquired technical and aesthetic expertise, and designers protected their reputation in the West, where that market was still dismissed as a large factory for replicas or low-cost products. Today that reticence has vanished. Seeing former creative directors of LVMH signing on for mass-market Chinese brands demonstrates that the credibility of “Made in China” has grown exponentially. The success abroad of entities like Songmont, Icicle, or Pop Mart (we remember the recent mass hysteria for the Labubu right?) has redefined the parameters of coolness. And while China is often associated only with production capacity, in the conversation with Van Assche, the strong point emerges elsewhere: in the ability to conduct research.
The price of freedom
During our conversation, Van Assche analyzed the relationship between creativity and industry with a realism that dismantles the somewhat romantic idea of the independent designer. “Creative freedom has a price,” he said, explaining that “the freedom I had at Dior was actually much greater than what I could have on my own, because I had tools and resources at my disposal.” It is a reflection that stems from his own history: between 2005 and 2015 he led his eponymous label, KRISVANASSCHE. Van Assche speaks of it with a certain frankness as a complex experience, marked by the difficulties of sustaining an independent brand in the long term. Today, in a Western market marked by reduced budgets and strong volatility, many designers recalibrate their priorities, placing financial stability above the risk of reputation. The generous contracts offered by Chinese groups guarantee longevity for the creative and buy immediate legitimacy for the brand. In this context, Antazero becomes an environment where research and industrial resources coincide. “When they talk about sustainability, they mean it seriously – Van Assche added – Being such a large group, they have the means to push material research much further than others.”
It is the great paradox of contemporary fashion: the true ecological transition today does not come from independent niches, but from industrial giants, the only ones capable of financing green chemistry on a large scale. And perhaps for the first time so explicitly, a generation of European designers is not looking to Asia to export skills, but to acquire new ones.
The space between luxury and everyday wardrobe
This migration of talent towards the East – think of Kim Jones, who has taken on a crucial creative role for Areal (the premium line of the Chinese outerwear giant Bosideng); Claire Waight Keller, who after successfully leading the luxury of Givenchy and Chloé became the global creative director of Uniqlo; or Francesco Risso, who has taken on the creative lead of GU, a satellite brand of the Japanese group Fast Retailing (now recognized as the third largest clothing retailer in the world) – also tells of a change in how people shop.
In recent years, many major fashion houses have preferred to pursue absolute exclusivity. They have skyrocketed price tags to target an increasingly narrow clientele. However, this choice has left an important market segment uncovered: that of consumers looking for a product well-designed and made with quality materials, but at an accessible price. A gap that is now effectively filled by the large Asian mass-market companies.
It must be said that designing collections intended for mass production – whether it is the technical outerwear of Bosideng (still positioned in a mid-range between 300 and 600 euros) or the everyday lines of Uniqlo – requires a different approach compared to traditional luxury. In a comparison with the Financial Times the same Claire Waight Keller recounted that what convinced her to accept was precisely the challenge of grappling with functionality and the real use of clothes in everyday life. It is not at all a downgrading of creativity in favor of numbers, but rather an alternative model, where the designer’s know-how serves to improve the aesthetics and quality of a more “democratic” wardrobe.
There is no longer a permanent center of gravity
For decades, the fashion model has been relatively simple: Europe held the monopoly on cultural capital and imagery, while Asia executed the manual labor in factories. Today this division is dissolving also because innovation has become much more expensive. Developing new materials, investing in sustainability, building circular supply chains, integrating technology and research requires enormous capital and a long-term vision, and many European houses, especially in this phase of luxury market slowdown, are under increasing financial pressure. Some large Asian groups, on the other hand, have resources and infrastructures thatallow them to transform experimentation into a systematic process. This industrial model also brings with it a different management of rhythms and organizational models. Let it be clear: the pressure does not disappear, but one simply exits the relentless calendar of European fashion shows, divided between seasonal collections and pre-collections, and shifts to a more flexible planning. For many designers, it is a breath of fresh air, the only way to escape a production loop that leads straight to burnout. The debate on the rhythms of luxury, after all, is a hot topic. As Van Assche himself recalled: “The number of collections has increased enormously. We should reflect on what the true task of a creative director really is.” The growing involvement of European talents in Asian markets does not indicate a decline of historic districts like Paris and Milan, which maintain their primacy in terms of training, archives, and cultural positioning. It simply tells us that the map has changed shape: fashion is no longer a centralized empire but rather a network. Creativity, after all, continues to be born everywhere. What radically changes is where it today finds the financial resources and industrial conditions to turn ideas into real products.
