The Barbican’s latest exhibition digs up the dirt on the fashion industry by representing its faults in some of the filthiest pieces of clothing.
From the 25th of September last year, London’s Barbican Centre art gallery displayed a collation of global fashion pieces that focus on the theme of dirt and decay. Collections are taken from as early as 1970s to present day, including works from icons such as Vivienne Westwood, Alexander McQueen and Hussein Chalayan as well as emerging talents like IAMISIGO and Buzigahill. It is a showcase nothing short of extraordinary, highlighting the past and future of fashion’s link to dirt. Now, as the exhibition has come to a close, I will be exploring why it was so impactful and what this filthy fashion show can tell us about a need for change over how we view our clothes.
What makes fashion dirty?
A splotch, a sweat stain or a tear- the Barbican’s exhibition challenges your way of viewing dirt as a physical imbalance, a fault. Yes, a stain or a smell can make clothing appear dirty but what is truly dirty is the marks you cannot see. How clothes were made, where they will end up when you no longer want them. The featured designers within this show each implore that real dirtiness is not the stain you got on your t-shirt but instead the act of throwing it away, leaving it to sit in the soil and pollute oceans for decades to come. The real dirt is the excessive waste of the fashion industry and the industry’s discriminatory ways.
Fashion fears dirt
We are reminded every day through the prices of good clothing, the dry clean only labels, and the designer PR packages sent to celebrities that fashion is a luxury. Though, are we simply accepting of this because it has been the same throughout history? Fashion has long been a symbol of status, a way to visually demonstrate how much money is in one’s pocket. Laws were set by rulers for their courts to wear particular clothing items, fabrics and even colours so that they could remain distinguished amongst the poor. The sumptuary laws in Elizabethan England governed what peoples could and could not wear up until the early 1600s with rules for specified positions like ‘the Lord Chancellor, Treasurer, President of the council, Privy Seal, may wear any velvet, satin, or other silks except purple’. If someone did not dress directly by their title, it could have resulted in a fine or even unemployment.
Of course, much of that has changed today, there is no longer policing of fashion and those who struggle to afford the more expensive clothing have the option of fast fashion and polyester knockoffs as supposed to the rags of the past. Though the beautifully designed pieces are still reserved for those that can pay a pretty penny. Understandably, this is due to the cost of durable materials and the work that goes into the design and handcrafting of pieces. Fashion is artwork, and art deserves to be well-funded but how is it only fair for the rich to feel good in their clothing? Especially when considering the £140 million worth of unsold clothing that ends up in landfill yearly from the UK alone.
‘a tiara made of candy wrappers is as valuable as one made of diamonds.’
– John Galliano on his 2000 S/S DIOR COLLECTION
Fashion has never endorsed poverty. Though, on occasion it has tried. The Barbican’s displays featured pieces of Christian Dior’s Spring/Summer 2000s collection designed by British designer John Galliano. Galliano took inspiration for this collection from homeless people sleeping along the Seine and their innovative ways of creating clothing out of found materials. He utilised newspaper print and frayed fabrics for pattern and texture and repurposed old ties to use as belts as he had seen on the Seine’s dwellers. This collection, however, was criticised for romanticising poverty not seen as celebrating how the creative ways of humans with limited resources can still make fashionable pieces. In response to the hate, Galliano stated ‘a tiara made of candy wrappers is as valuable as one made of diamonds’. Truly, it shows how fashion doesn’t need to be this big expensive process, what it needs is innovation.
Down to Earth
A key part of the Dirty Looks exhibition was a nod to dirt as a symbol of a life more authentic. Dirt has been seen through generations of industrialised living as a connection to Earth and the natural world and thus, it slowly but surely weaved its way into fashion. Wearing old, damaged clothing became a symbol of rebellion against the plague of materialism that has taken over greater parts of the world, whilst acknowledging poverty and a dysfunctional class system. It most of all goes against the unspoken laws of fashion- a test of what is acceptable to be classed as fashionable.
It all started with the Parisian Bohemians of the 19th century, artistic groups from educated, wealthy backgrounds that would have lived a life of privilege who decided one day this life was unsuited to them. These individuals turned away from their comfortable lives to a minimalistic one, somewhat embracing poverty to thrive in what mattered most to them, a life of art. Meaning they insisted on being rid of their expensive garments and instead wore the clothing of the poor.
Many movements in the years to come would follow in the Parisian Bohemian’s footsteps, trading a life of stability to live life more frugally or in rebellion against societal norms. Think 1930s surrealists, 1960’s hippies, the rise of grunge in the 90’s or even those ripped jeans you wore to death in the 2000s.
The phrase ‘nostalgia of mud’ was created by French playwright Émile Auger in the time of the Parisian Bohemian’s, described to be a feeling of longing by those in industrialised society for their primitive roots. The phrase took off after writer Tom Woolfe used it in a 1970 article “Radical Chic” for the New York Magazine and was then picked up by Malcolm McLaren for hiss 1982 Autumn/Winter collection, featuring Vivienne Westwood.
They used ‘Nostalgia of Mud’ to title their collection and integrated its definition into every piece of clothing with McLaren’s plans to demonstrate how “the roots of our culture lay in primitive society”. This was achieved through a mixture of global historical styles such as the Greek Toga, western inspired sheepskins and dresses taken from Latin America.
As a major collection that influenced a new outlook on avant-garde fashion all the way through to the 2000s, its place in this exhibition is major- a spectacle of the diverse historical links in fashion today, one that links us back to the dirt we came from.
Embracing the marks that make clothes human
While it is empirical to understand the place of the metaphorical dirt of fashion in the Barbican’s showcase, the physical dirt is at the most part the face of the programme. It is ingrained into us by years of the same practice, the same mindset that fashion should be kempt and clean, a luxury, worn by those expected to be definitively elegant. Stains are a shameful mark implying a lack of cleanliness and what would have once meant a low respectability. The truth is, we are stuck in the past with our ways of viewing fashion. Of course, it is a disaster when a giant brown coffee stain finds its way to the front of a white top, just in time for an important job interview but it should not be as stigmatised as it is. That coffee stain could have set its own beautiful pattern, distinguishing the white top from the plain, boring white top of the other going for the same job interview. It is all about perspective and a willingness to understand mess as an art.
Throughout the Barbican’s exhibition were stain like lipstick marks, red wine splats and iron burns, stains that had been utilised on the runway to challenge our hesitance in accepting the marks of human nature in fashion. As well as this, stains of paint, bleach and mud that show a life of hard-work and a life well-lived. This most of all is what fashion can admire. Despite its favour of the bourgeois, fashion has a sweet spot for the working class. Helmut Lang is featured at the Barbican with his paint splattered jeans from spring/summer 1998. These are inspired by the trousers of painters and their everyday workwear, that would have been sold as high-end pieces. It is a statement to show the art of human creativity and labour.
In many cultures the female body is associated with purity, the presence of dirt is then seen to destroy this image. But then if bodily fluids are considered dirty, what about those that come with bringing life? Period stains, lactation marks, these are stains that paint womanhood; by denying their place in fashion, we are blocking them out, removing them from their part in the life cycle.
A standout collection from DI PETSA for spring/summer 2025 by Greek designer Dimitra Petsa defies this, by celebrating sexuality and the human messes that come along with it. The collection titled “My body is a Labyrinth” emphasises the human pleasure and desire, commonly hidden away by bringing to the outermost layers. Her collection includes period pants, masturbation frayed jeans, pee-stained jeans and a lactation top to reclaim the dirtiness of bodily fluids and the perception of purity in women. Dirt is not just dirty; it is a beautiful part of life.
DI PETSA S/S 2025 on the runway ©Jason Lloyd Evans/ Fashion Week Online
Sacrifice Zones
Large quantities of unsold or discarded clothing are sent to areas known sacrifice zones. They are as ominous as they sound, as areas of free land that are far from fashion production, used to dump unwanted overflow of fashion waste predominantly from the UK, Europe, USA and China. Some of the most prominent zones lie in Ghana, Kenya and the Atacama Desert in Chile, their grounds bear the constant burden of overconsumption that does not grow from their own people.
In response to this atrocity at the hands of their industry, designers have taken to utilising excess fabric within their work, either by buying second hand or sourcing straight from the sacrifice zones. The Dirty Looks exhibition pays tribute to some of these designers, including the upcoming Ugandan designer, Bobby Kolade.
Kolade founded his brand Buzigahill in 2022 and began the first collection he titles “Return to Sender”. Its aim, to critique the use of Uganda’s sacrifice zones by taking the wasted garments, repurposing them and selling them back to the countries that discarded them. The best part is you can’t even tell they’re ‘dirty’.
Another great designer featured in Dirty Looks, that strives to raise awareness of sacrifice zones, is Priya Ahluwalia. She created her brand Ahluwalia after witnessing the impact of fashion waste in the sacrifice zones of Panipat and Lagos. Ahluwalia uses solely damaged, donated, recycled and deadstock clothing to create new patchwork designs. Each piece tells a story of the different fabrics’ past and its rebirth to be worn again- unique pieces with both a history and a future.
Rubbish into relics
If you have made it this far into the article, you will be aware of the focus the exhibition has on exposing the industry’s lack of sustainability. The fashion industry has been listed as the second largest consumer of water, responsible for up to 8% of carbon emissions. Though more and more fashion designers are opening their eyes to the harm their industry is causing to the planet, which is making way for more sustainable steps forward. Since the creation of synthetic material and ever-growing market of fast fashion, several generations of designers have set to fix fashion’s longevity by transforming found objects from daily life into new creations. This not only cuts down on the synthetic materials used but helps inhibit the level of global waste. It contradicts the value of rubbish and discarded material whilst influencing resourcefulness, something crucial regarding our current climate crisis.
Featured in Dirty Looks is Paco Rabanne, the Spanish French designer known for his resourceful use of ‘futuristic materials’ . Some of his iconic pieces from his 1992 Autumn/Winter collection are on display, featuring clothing made of metals, PVC and rubbish like plastic bottle tops.
The plastic bottle top dress, Paco Rabanne A/W (1992). Also featured in Dirty Looks, Andrew Groves dress of razor blades S/S (1999).
Fashion exists not in war
We are in a time where war exists, yet we still turn a blind eye. It is easy to get distracted by our own comfortability, our privilege making us neglect those that are suffering. The way we choose time and time again to purchase unnecessary material possessions for ourselves when our attention could go towards those that need it most. Dirty Looks alludes to this in a limited selection of designs.
The autumn/winter 2000’s collection by Shelley Fox, displayed at the Barbican is a statement relevant today in a time so corrupted by war. Her clothes are made to show destruction and reunion. Her use of violent techniques that included scorching, scarring, burning and disintegrating fabrics are a reminder of what happens to clothing worn by those that face the brutality of war. Fox also integrates medical materials in her pieces such as bandages and Elastoplast, again burnt and melted using lasers. The result is visually striking pieces with deep connections. This is the fashion of war, a fashion we are often blind to.
A fear of ageing
Dirt and imperfection are two things that happen to link whether it is just or not. We as humans fear death and we also fear the deterioration that comes before it. Robert Wun’s autumn/winter 2024 collection ‘Time’ focuses on the acceptance of morality through the changing of seasons and the decay that comes along with it. We are living in a world where beauty is a main concern. Cosmetic surgeries are constantly on the rise, new skincare routines, diets and supplements are plastered over the internet and it is all a response to one thing; the fear of growing old and imperfect.
Wun demonstrates that there is beauty in imperfection, however, through use of sparkling gemstones to point out blotches in fabrics and tears that contrast boldly in black on white silks. A piece that truly catches the eye is a white gown with the dark rips, butterflies cascading out of them. It demonstrates that the imperfections that come with age are just a beautiful part of life.
Rather than showing a typical polished exhibition of faultless fashion, the Barbican has created something that reevaluates the history and future of clothing by filling its rooms with dirt, damage and decay. It demonstrates how these elements are relevant in cultural, political and environmental terms, standing as a weapon against the fashion industry, if payed close enough attention to. By challenging the rules that have built fashion for centuries, dirt, the thing that fashion fears most of all might just threaten its future. We can only hope that it will build motive for change, to make the fashion industry sustainable and to make fashion accessible to all.
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