Matty Bovan
If any designer exemplifies the boundless creative energy of this country, it is Matty Bovan. After learning to knit at the age of 11, he became fascinated by the idea of “making fabric your own, making it feel personal” – and since founding his namesake brand, he has scoured the country in search of craftspeople who could do precisely that. Whether sourcing waxed cotton from Lancashire or Scottish wool to be knitted in Leicester, he is dedicated to championing artisanal skills often forgotten in the digital age, and trawls the internet in search of new collaborators. “It’s gone from being a cottage industry to finding these people I can work with all around the UK – and the world,” he beams. A wealth of such techniques have been incorporated into the costume for his intricately constructed Barbie: hand-padded and sewn into her dress with golden Japanese yarn, she is the miniature embodiment of his magpie eclecticism. “It’s kind of like Barbie couture,” Bovan reflects. “I wanted her to have the same energy that my runway clothes have... She’s epic.”
Mowalola
Lagos-born, London-based Mowalola Ogunlesi has rooted her aesthetic in liberated self-expression: stiff, glossy leathers sprayed in bold prints; hems cut high and necklines low. “Mine is a world where everyone is free in terms of what they wear, in terms of how they think,” she explains. “And my women aren’t threatened by anyone – they are taking back their power.” That spirit – of radical enjoyment presented as modern rebellion – has a magnetic energy, and it is the same that imbues her Barbie. Dressed in a miniature evolution of her spring/summer 2020 collection, with backcombed hair by Virginie P Moreira and make-up created by Daniel Sallstrom (using a miniature paintbrush), “she is a Mowalola superhero,” Ogunlesi grins. “She’s strong and captivating and ready to have a really good time. I want to be wherever she’s going.
Richard Malone
If sustainability was once considered a byword for hemp-hewn bohemia, then Richard Malone has helped revolutionise its identity. Embracing eco-dyed lurid colours and unexpected textures formed from recycled ocean waste, offcut materials and repurposed dog beds (that red, white and blue stole draped over Barbie’s arm), he is besotted by the fine line between good and bad taste – as are the wealth of private clients he’s amassed over the course of his career. Those women – who comprise a sizeable proportion of his business – equally provide some of his most formative inspirations, informing the resolute practicality stitched into his designs (even the most sculptural showpieces come with pockets and are machine- washable) as well as, now, his Barbie. “Barbie is a businesswoman – and a lot of the women I work with are too, but they don’t dress like men in suits; fashion is a part of their identity. I wanted to show that Barbie could wear a runway look but still live her everyday life and remain the boss that she truly is.
Art School
“Art School really began with the idea of provoking a cultural shift through the process of design,” explain its founders, Eden Loweth & Tom Barratt. “We want to create a movement.” Dedicated to promoting and supporting the queer community the two designers are embedded within, theirs is a brand that proudly celebrates non-binary bodies: tailoring on the bias to accommodate transitioning shapes (their “non-binary Barbie” offers a perfect example of their take on figure-skimming glamour), or allowing for variable button placements depending on your gender. But “we have realised there is a correlation between our designs and any person’s body – because everyone’s size and shape fluctuates over the course of their life,’’ they continue. “Art School is about making clothes that are really tolerant, that will stand with someone throughout their life, and as they evolve as in their own identity.”
Supriya Lele
Raised in the West Midlands, Supriya Lele’s take on her Indian heritage is refracted through the lens of ’90s Britain: traditional drapery rendered in transparent mesh, storied prints blown up into abstraction – or, here, the cut of a sari blouse transformed into a luminous satin dress. “I try to explore the tension between my two cultures,” she says. “I was never someone who dressed up in traditional clothing – so what I like to do is take elements of that and approach it from my own, minimal perspective.” Growing up besotted by Barbie (“I was an only child, so I had about 40”), Lele’s first venture into design was creating custom wardrobes for her – now things have come full circle, as she precisely scaled the measurements of one of her autumn/winter 2019 looks to suit Barbie’s size. In fact, so perfectly is her neon outfit reconfigured that even the pockets are fully operational. “I felt like a child again,” she grins. “But now I have an incredible pattern-cutter to help.”
Photography Credits: Photographer: Stas Komarovski. Stylist: Poppy Kain. Art Direction: Dom Kelly. Hair: Yumi Nakada-Dingle. Make-Up: Thomasin Waite. Nails: Lauren Michelle Pires. Set Design: Andrew Clarkson. Production: Verity Cousins.
“Art School really began with the idea of provoking a cultural shift through the process of design,” explain its founders, Eden Loweth & Tom Barratt. “We want to create a movement.” Dedicated to promoting and supporting the queer community the two designers are embedded within, theirs is a brand that proudly celebrates non-binary bodies: tailoring on the bias to accommodate transitioning shapes (their “non-binary Barbie” offers a perfect example of their take on figure-skimming glamour), or allowing for variable button placements depending on your gender. But “we have realised there is a correlation between our designs and any person’s body – because everyone’s size and shape fluctuates over the course of their life,’’ they continue. “Art School is about making clothes that are really tolerant, that will stand with someone throughout their life, and as they evolve as in their own identity.”
Charles Jeffrey Loverboy
When Charles Jeffrey first started his club night, Loverboy, in a dingy Dalston basement in 2014, little could he have imagined that its electric atmosphere and eclectic characters would become the inspiration behind his fashion brand. “People would turn up in all these amazing looks, wanting to express themselves,” he reflects. “It was a beautiful time with a beautiful energy that now I try to replicate in my shows.” Five years later, Jeffrey is a staple of the capital’s fashion scene, beloved for his inclusive nature alongside an avant-garde aesthetic rooted in extensive primary research. His Barbie (“Let’s call her ‘Wee Hen’,” he decrees in a Glaswegian drawl) exemplifies that spirit: dressed in a replica of the closing look from his spring/summer 2018 collection, which drew upon the history of cross-dressing through the ages, she is, in his words, “wearing the most fabulous piece ever.” “It took a whole week – but just looks like the actual dress!” he exclaims. “I’m really proud of her.”
Raised in the West Midlands, Supriya Lele’s take on her Indian heritage is refracted through the lens of ’90s Britain: traditional drapery rendered in transparent mesh, storied prints blown up into abstraction – or, here, the cut of a sari blouse transformed into a luminous satin dress. “I try to explore the tension between my two cultures,” she says. “I was never someone who dressed up in traditional clothing – so what I like to do is take elements of that and approach it from my own, minimal perspective.” Growing up besotted by Barbie (“I was an only child, so I had about 40”), Lele’s first venture into design was creating custom wardrobes for her – now things have come full circle, as she precisely scaled the measurements of one of her autumn/winter 2019 looks to suit Barbie’s size. In fact, so perfectly is her neon outfit reconfigured that even the pockets are fully operational. “I felt like a child again,” she grins. “But now I have an incredible pattern-cutter to help.”
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