Fashion’s First Family

I watched Fashion’s First Family, i-D’s documentary about London fashion newcomers, and what struck me was how little romance there was to any of it. You go in thinking about Vivienne Westwood and Karl Lagerfeld and the mythology of how you actually break in, and instead you get people grinding through season after season—getting a tiny bit famous maybe, then disappearing when the cycle turns over.

The machinery is real and it’s cold. What got to me was how much genuine talent gets burned through. You’re watching folks who actually understand color and form, who know how to make something that didn’t exist before, and you know from the first episode that most won’t survive it. Not because they lack ability. They can’t afford London rent. They do a collection and nobody shows up. They spend six months building something and three months later it doesn’t matter anymore because the aesthetic has already moved on.

The industry sells itself as this open thing that wants new voices, fresh perspectives, young talent. What it actually runs is a tournament designed to eliminate everyone except those with the right mix of obsession, money, and timing. The documentary doesn’t judge this. It just shows it. You watch them try and you see some survive the first cut and you have no idea what happens next, and that’s the whole thing.

What stayed with me wasn’t inspiration. Just the facts of it.