For Youths in Balaclava (YIB), the Levi’s collaboration wasn’t just another creative brief—it was a personal mission. Commissioned as part of Future Asian Music x Levi’s presentation, Road To Fam, a city music series spotlighting emerging talents across Southeast Asia, the homegrown brand was tasked with designing two bespoke performance looks for Singaporean rapper, Fariz Jabba. The first debuted in May at the Singapore show; the second, unveiled during the finale on 9 July in Bangkok, marking the culmination of this experimental, cross-cultural journey.
At the heart of this collaboration lies the idea of reconstruction through destruction—a raw yet refined philosophy that YIB has steadily sharpened since its inception. Known for their subversive, anti-establishment aesthetic, the brand brought their distinct language to Levi’s iconic silhouettes, pushing boundaries while honouring heritage.
The first look reimagined a Levi’s trench coat, denim shirt and jeans through a WWI officer lens, featuring everything from vegetable-tanned leather inlays to 925 silver hardware—visual nods to battle-worn dignity and biomechanical storytelling. The second outfit, made for the humid heat and high energy of a Bangkok stage, draws inspiration from Edo-period Japanese armour and American football gear—two seemingly disparate sources unified by their shared emphasis on resilience and protection. Both looks tell a visual story not only of Fariz’s stage persona, but also of the wider Southeast Asian youth identity: bold, unflinching and in constant motion.
But beyond the artistry lies a deeper synergy between music and fashion, artist and designer. As founder and creative director of Youths in Balaclava, Taufiq Iskandar shares in an interview with Vogue Singapore, the collaboration was deeply intuitive, rooted in friendship, shared values and mutual respect for craft. Below, Iskandar breaks down the techniques, inspirations and emotional labour behind the collaboration—offering an intimate look into the making of two looks that speak volumes on identity, transformation and the power of Southeast Asian artistry on a global stage.
How did the collaboration between Youths in Balaclava and Levi’s SEA come about? What drew you to this project?
A mutual contact from a marketing agency reached out and said Levi’s wanted to collaborate on a custom piece for Fariz Jabba. What drew us to it was immediate and instinctive. Fariz is family to us, and he is representing Singapore on an international stage in Bangkok, there’s no question about stepping up. We weren’t going to let him walk out there in anything less than what we knew he deserved.
The fact that it was Levi’s made it even more compelling. We’ve been fans of the brand for years. This wasn’t just another collaboration opportunity; it was the perfect alignment of personal relationship, creative respect, and brand admiration.
The first look for the Singapore show reinterprets a Levi’s trench coat through a WWI officer silhouette and biomechanical details. Can you walk us through the thought process and techniques behind that reconstruction?
When we selected the pieces Levi’s offered, some already had this commanding presence. The question became: how do we YIB-fy this without destroying its soul? Working with a coat, the homage to the 30s military officer silhouette was inevitable, it demands respect, authority. Allowing him to be structured as for the biomechanical detailing, we turned to darning. The thread texture, the way it runs through the denim, it amplifies that essence we were chasing.
That darning process? The most challenging thing we’ve ever done. Hours upon hours distressing and blending threads together. We even developed our own paste, active enzymes that break down the protein fibres in denim, creating this aged, battle-worn feel. Science in service of art. That’s our attempt at pushing boundaries.
You’ve described the concept as “reconstruction through destruction.” What does that phrase mean to you personally and creatively, especially within the context of Southeast Asian youth identity?
Everything we create reflects our journey, genuine, raw, honest. Where we are right now as a brand, as creators, as people who’ve rebuilt ourselves from the ground up. Within the SEA context, we see an industry that’s deeply rooted in what worked in the past, which has its beauty, but sometimes those roots can grow so deep they anchor us to approaches that no longer serve the present moment. There’s a balance between honouring where we came from and creating space for where we’re going.
The upcoming Bangkok look draws from both Edo-period Japanese armour and American football gear. How did you land on that fusion, and what challenges came with designing for performance, movement, and climate?
We wanted to build armour for Fariz, an armour that reflects our journey as warriors, soldiers fighting through our unique path. We’re bringing out that inner child fantasy you see in manga and games, making it real, tangible.
Mediaeval Western armour? Overdone. We dove deep into Asian armour, watched documentaries about the process. The Edo-period fascinated us, a time when the focus shifted from violence to maintaining peace. But Fariz has to perform, move, breathe. American football gear gave us the answer—armour that allows function and mobility. It’s the perfect amalgamation of protection and performance.
Both looks balance historical references with modern functionality. How do you navigate the line between heritage and contemporary in your design ethos?
It’s very much an intuitive process for us. We don’t approach it as a calculated balance but rather as a conversation between past and present. It’s about understanding what made something timeless in the first place and finding ways to honour that spirit while making it relevant for today’s context.
What was the collaborative process like between designer and artist, and how did his music, personality, and performance style influence your design choices?
The process was incredibly organic; it felt more like hanging out with a friend than a formal design consultation. We spent time in his space vice versa, observed how he moves, listened to his music, and just absorbed his energy. Fariz has this natural charisma and fluidity in how he carries himself, which directly influenced our approach to the garments’ construction and fit.
When working with a legacy brand like Levi’s, how did you navigate reinterpreting iconic pieces while staying true to the visual language of Youths in Balaclava?
Being longtime fans of Levi’s definitely gave us a foundation of respect for what the brand represents. We understood the heritage, the craftsmanship, and the cultural significance that comes with those iconic pieces. But we also knew we were guests in their house, so to speak. Our approach was to identify the key elements that make YIB distinctive and find ways to weave them into the Levi’s DNA without overshadowing it.
Collaboration often means adapting. Were there any unexpected moments, challenges or breakthroughs during the design or fitting process that stood out to you?
Absolutely. One of the biggest learning curves was understanding how different denim types behave when you’re manipulating them beyond their intended use. We had to figure out how to maintain the integrity of that classic Levi’s construction while incorporating elements that would allow Fariz the freedom he needs on stage.
“If the audience can feel that connection, then we’ve succeeded in our goal of creating something that’s truly collaborative rather than just transactional.”
Finally, what does this collaboration represent for the evolution of Youths in Balaclava as a brand and what would you like people to take away from these pieces when they see them on stage?
This collaboration marks a significant moment in YIB’s evolution, it’s our return to fashion after a period of intentional reflection and skill development. This project represents a new chapter where we’re more confident in our voice and more refined in our execution.
What we hope people take away when they see these pieces on stage is a sense of authenticity, that what they’re witnessing is a genuine collaboration between artists who respect each other’s craft. We want the clothes to feel like they belong to Fariz, like they were always meant to be part of his artistic expression. If the audience can feel that connection, then we’ve succeeded in our goal of creating something that’s truly collaborative rather than just transactional.
