By Camilla Sarra. Cover image by Katsiaryna Endruszkiewicz on unsplash.
What makes us desire a garment today? It is becoming one of fashion’s most interesting questions. In a system where we see hundreds of new products every day, novelty alone has lost some of its power. A new silhouette can circulate around the world within hours, while an image seen on the runway is immediately followed by another one on our screens. Getting attention is easy. Creating desire is much harder.
We spoke with Irene Libbi, Raw Material Fabric Specialist at Balenciaga, whose perspective on fashion begins with the physical reality of clothes: fabric, construction and the ability to recognise quality. When we previously spoke with her about circular fashion, she described conscious consumption as learning to distinguish genuine desire from impulse and understanding the material value of what we buy. This time, we asked her to look at the strategies emerging from the runways and at the ways designers are trying to make the product itself desirable again. What emerges is a shift towards subtraction, imperfection and incompleteness: instead of constantly adding something new, designers are creating tension through what they remove, alter or deliberately leave unresolved.
Calvin Klein: The Discipline of Subtraction
At Calvin Klein, under Veronica Leoni, the starting point is elimination. Anything that does not feel essential is removed, shifting attention towards the elements that remain: proportion, fit and material. Libbi describes this approach as “the discipline of subtraction.” It is an important distinction, because subtraction does not necessarily mean simplicity. Once decoration and visual noise disappear, the garment has fewer places to hide. A change in proportion becomes more evident, the weight and movement of a fabric matter more, and the relationship between material and silhouette becomes central to the identity of the piece.
The material vocabulary reinforces this approach, with compact cottons, lightweight wools and silk knits whose impact depends on how they behave rather than on immediate decoration. Desirability is therefore built through precision: the garment does not need to announce itself through an obvious statement, because its attraction comes from the sense that every element has been considered. In this context, removing something can become as significant a design decision as adding it.
When Minimalism Stops Looking Perfect
At Jil Sander and Lii, reduction takes a different direction. Minimalism is no longer necessarily synonymous with visual perfection; garments can appear slightly wrong, incomplete or unresolved. This apparent imperfection interferes with what we expect from a finished luxury product, where refinement has traditionally been communicated through control, precise construction and the impression that every element is exactly where it belongs.
At Jil Sander, closures are moved off-centre, fabrics appear crumpled and hems look deliberately imperfect. These details create a small interruption in the way we read the clothes: the eye immediately registers that something is different, even before understanding exactly what it is. A perfectly resolved object can sometimes be understood instantly, while an irregular one asks us to spend longer with it. The apparent “mistake” becomes a design device, making the construction itself more visible and creating a form of friction between what we expect to see and what is actually in front of us.
This is particularly interesting in a culture of images designed to be understood almost instantly. Instead of offering immediate visual satisfaction, the garment leaves a question open: was that deliberate? Why does that proportion feel unusual? Why has that element been left unresolved? The product asks for a second look, and that hesitation becomes part of its desirability.
Prada: The Power of What Is Missing
At Prada, incompleteness becomes even more explicit. Many looks are reduced to a skirt and bra, creating the impression that part of the outfit has disappeared. The absence itself becomes part of the silhouette: rather than presenting a completely resolved total look, the styling leaves something open, encouraging the eye to search almost instinctively for what might be missing.
Yet this apparent simplicity coexists with extremely sophisticated workmanship. Crystal embroidery is applied to Velcro, bringing together two material languages that we would normally place at opposite ends of the spectrum. Crystal immediately evokes decoration and preciousness, while Velcro belongs to a functional and industrial vocabulary. Putting them together complicates the conventional idea of luxury, because the value of the garment no longer lies simply in the preciousness of its materials, but in the unexpected relationship created between them and in the sophistication behind an object that may initially appear unfinished or even casual.
The contradiction is precisely what makes the product interesting. What looks incomplete may actually be extremely considered, while something apparently ordinary can become the support for intricate craftsmanship. Industrial and precious cease to be opposites and start to coexist within the same object, challenging the idea that luxury must always communicate its value through obvious perfection.
From Instant Attention to Lasting Desire
Taken together, these strategies suggest a change in the way fashion is trying to capture our attention. Calvin Klein reduces the garment until proportion and material become impossible to ignore; Jil Sander and Lii introduce irregularities that interrupt expectations of perfection; Prada uses absence and unexpected material combinations to destabilise our idea of what a finished luxury product should look like. What connects them is a certain resistance to immediate consumption: these clothes contain something that cannot necessarily be absorbed in a single glance.
That becomes particularly relevant at a moment when fashion is often consumed visually before it is experienced physically. We encounter collections through runway clips and rapidly circulating images long before most of us ever touch the clothes. In that environment, producing another striking image is only part of the challenge. The harder task is creating enough tension around the product for us to remember it after the image has disappeared from the screen.
What Makes Us Really Want Something?
Perhaps this is where the question of desirability becomes more interesting. An unexpected proportion, a displaced closure, an unfinished-looking hem or crystals attached to Velcro create a degree of uncertainty and ask the viewer to participate in understanding the garment. Desire can begin in that moment of hesitation, when we need to look again before deciding what we think.
It also brings the discussion back to Libbi’s material approach to fashion. Looking closely means understanding how something is made, noticing the fabric we would want to touch and recognising why a particular proportion changes our perception of a garment. It also means distinguishing between genuinely wanting an object and simply reacting to an image. And perhaps that is the real challenge facing fashion today: in a world where we can see almost everything instantly, how do you create something that makes us stop, look again and actually want it?
