The relationship between music, fashion and expression has long been magnified. In March, Taylor Swift’s reign descended upon Singapore, resulting in a record-breaking six-day streak that drew fans from Southeast Asia and the world. The superstar’s 14 albums and gut-piercing lyrics haven’t just inspired a loyal legion of music lovers; among the flurry of excitement, there was a manifestation of outfits paying homage to the various eras of Swift’s career—resulting in a strong showing of sparkles, denim, fringe and friendship bracelets. Though currently the biggest pop culture showing of the worlds of music and fashion melding, the relationship between the two mediums has been intertwined for as long as we can remember. But where did the intersection begin?
The answer is as multifaceted as it is hard to singularly define. The beginnings of the relationship might be traced back to the 18th century. The 1820s ushered in romanticism, which was a pendulum swing from the rigidity and logic of the age of Enlightenment. This saw a newfound appreciation for music, art and design. Esteemed fashion historian Jane Ashelford explains this phenomenon in The Art of Dress: Clothes and Society, 1500-1914: “The Romantic movement stressed the creative power of the ‘shaping spirit of imagination’ and was motivated by a desire to escape from the chilly neoclassicalism of the turn of the century and the harsh realities of the Industrial Revolution. It manifested itself in dress by an enthusiasm for extrovert personal display and theatrical fashions which, in the 1820s and early 1830s, led to men wearing their clothes with a swaggering bravado and panache.”
This creative power and extrovert personal display bled into the realm of music, too. A century later, the bridging of all creative forms became even more apparent—with the kinship between style and performers (musicians and dancers, for example) being one of the strongest and most apparent indicators of this wave. The ’20s featured the commercialisation of jazz music, cementing the genre’s links to civil rights and feminism. As a result, shorter hemlines were the go-to, alongside forgoing restrictive undergarments and opting for baggier silhouettes. Speeding past the explosion of teen pop was the cementing of Mod culture as purveyed by British youth during the ’50s.
During this time, a modernised iteration of jazz was dominating airwaves and was championed by a group called the Mods, who were characterised by their sharp tailored suits and, for women, angular shift dresses. Then came ’90s grunge, spearheaded by the likes of Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain and Pearl Jam. Encapsulated by the antithesis of the American dream and suburban life, this wave was signified by ripped denim, old T-shirts and plaid shirts. These cornerstones would go on to be at the forefront of a history-defining moment in fashion—inspiring Marc Jacobs’ spring/summer 1993 show for American fashion brand Perry Ellis; a move so divisive that it resulted in Jacobs being fired from his role.
“Fashion is one of the greatest vehicles to merge music, art, architecture, design, typography—it’s a wide enough canvas, or a big enough sandbox, to touch all the different things that I’m into.”
Today, the tango between the two portals has intensified. As the late fashion designer Virgil Abloh is fondly quoted as saying: “Fashion is one of the greatest vehicles to merge music, art, architecture, design, typography—it’s a wide enough canvas, or a big enough sandbox, to touch all the different things that I’m into.” Today, the influence of Y2K on some of the industry’s biggest brands, almost a quarter of a century later, is undeniable. Apart from its obvious signifiers, from butterfly tops and chunky belts to colour-mania and defiant drapery, the trend also brings with it a homage to the icons of the new millennium such as Britney Spears, Sarah Jessica Parker and Gwen Stefani. With brands such as Blumarine, Diesel, Balenciaga and Loewe interpreting the era in their own ways, pop figureheads seemed to be the go-to reference points.
However, on the runways, the past year has witnessed a resurgence of the art form in a manner more nuanced than what we are accustomed to. Rather than focusing on eras or icons, the collections sought to evoke a feeling, akin to the experience one has when listening to a beloved song, feeling it resonate with every fibre of their being. The most pivotal example of this was Chanel’s 2023/2024 Métiers d’art collection, which was inspired by and presented in Manchester, England. While music-led collections have always been intrinsic to the brand, the basis of this line-up was rooted in creation. “For me, Manchester is the city of music,” shared creative director Virginie Viard in press notes. “It incites creation.”
This brimming pool of sensitivity and vibrancy echoed through the pieces in an injection of colour. Suits, bags and shoes were sent down the runway in what the brand touted as a “poetry of emotions with the dash of the ’60s”, in a host of pinks, oranges, greens, yellows, blues and reds. While jackets and wraparound skirts spoke to Viard’s classic vision, denim, leather knit staples and babydoll head turners painted a version of the true eccentric, cloaked in all the offbeat glory that Manchester’s underground music scene is known for. Completely turning things on its head was Pharrell Williams for Louis Vuitton Men’s. Williams, who is a stalwart of the entertainment industry, produced and was featured on a track called ‘Good People’ with American band Mumford & Sons which debuted at his Western-themed autumn/winter 2024 showing. Featuring a Native American choir, the move was an unprecedented one, bringing together two universes, and their equally all-encompassing and moving powers effortlessly.
As we flip the pages of this issue, starting with a cover of Charli XCX lensed by Nick Knight—who has crafted the music videos of Lady Gaga, Kanye West and Björk—the fusion only further solidifies. At the axis of fashion and music is the one thing that brings it altogether: the innate desire to feel.
