On Freedom in Garment
Being able to look into a process is always fascinating, and that interest can feel so much deeper when you have layers and layers of context to peel back: I've known Pancho for a few years now, and tracing his initial steps into a deep interest in clothes; landing here, standing in front of the camera, wearing his ideas expressed and coalesced into full garments—well, I guess it's a little surreal, like blinking and finding your younger sibling is almost your height.
Funny enough, it might as well be that to me. When we started talking about FiG, it was apparent where the foundations of the "Freedom" were: functionality always informing aesthetics. This simple, probably obvious approach was grounded in a shared sentiment, too. Clothes can be expensive, and sometimes it just feels easier to find what you want somewhere off the beaten path. To Pancho, that meant making something with purpose, with useful details: functional, helpful clothes that would grant the wearer a sense of adaptability for the unpredictable climates so common to tropical cities.
That's where Freedom in Garment started. But how does one further articulate that freedom? Apparently, through the lens of music. FiG SS26, called 'Soundscapes', conceptually grounds itself by viewing music as a medium that communicates emotions and ideas in a language outside of words; something that holds us in place: against stress, against excess, music is comfort. It frees the mind and calms you down, whether through in-ears, your car speakers, or low frequencies thrumming and buzzing at a rave.
A similar feeling comes about when you go outside. Fast-paced city life tends to have us wistful for some time to breathe, and going outdoors does that: freeing the mind amidst calm, relishing a simple peace as the space between you and nature at once narrows and grows—even just a day of this is real, tangible freedom.
While I started writing this for Pancho, he asked me: "If music and the outdoors resonate this same feeling, does music look as beautiful as nature?" And as his friend, I was torn between acknowledging the depth of this thought or making a snarky comment on the invisibility of music—but the thing is, I instantly thought "yes, music's at least as beautiful as nature."
It's a different sense, a different channel, but the final piece of Soundscapes happens here: cymatics. Simply put, vibrations made visible. It's one way to represent sound for the eyes, and it has the happy effect of echoing nature: like flowers in bloom, the regions of minimum and maximum displacement make for arresting, fractal-redolent patterns.
All of these (and countless unspoken) things came together as the first collection of Freedom in Garment. I'm writing this now, but I was wearing and experiencing it all, too. My mind goes some days prior: from talk, to theory, to execution, I am listening to the camera shutter click and wondering: does that sound look anything like nature?
- Julio
