Hacking the newsfeed: how super-major collaborations define fashion in 2021

“My team and I were sitting around a table at the Fendi studio in Rome,” said Kim Jones Instagram back in November, describing the eureka moment where #skendi first entered his mind. “Suddenly, all the women fell silent and started looking at their phones. I don’t know what’s going on, but they are waiting for the launch of the new Skims collection. That’s when I thought: let’s do something together.” Even if Jones did sensationalize this story, which seems likely, it would seem to speak a lot more about reality than if it were an accurate retelling. After all, the idea for a white coat shop Fendi shorted when they ordered a pair of Kim Kardashian shapewear to perfectly embody all the theatre, greed, and spectacle surrounding high-fashion collaborations – 2021’s most unexpected, and perhaps most definitive, trend.

Over the past few years, collaboration has been framed as an increasingly enriching way of working. A mix of thoughts that evoke endless creative possibilities, it conjures up images of Elsa Schiaparelli and Dalí or Vivienne Westwood and Keith Harring. But also practical. Smaller labels receive an injection of funding and mentorship while working with big brands (like Richard Malone and Mulberry or Ahluwalia and Ganni) while once-forgotten labels (like UGG or Crocs) are given a second life thanks to teamwork with Balenciaga, Telfar, and Molly Goddard . But this year, a cool commercial blueprint for collaboration has been surpassed by a giant power coupling. Dior and Sacai; Jean Paul Gaultier and Sacai; Versace and Fendi; Fendi and Skim; Gucci and Balenciaga; Balenciaga and Gucci; Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons; and Daniel Lee and Bottega Veneta, which is officially a “collaboration” according to the label. We live in an era of blockbuster collaborations, and in 2021, it appears to be an integral part of the brand’s popularity as a social media or must-have accessory.

Yet somehow, behind all the glitzy fights and pithy portmanteaus, collaborations are starting to feel cannibalistic, with big-budget labels feasting on each other, giving birth to two-headed beasts that enlarge in the process. Over the past 12 months, we feel as though we have witnessed the Americanization of luxury fashion, where everything is super big, star-lit, and smoothed out. The Goliath collaborations may be peddled as rebellious or naughty, but really, they celebrate the wedding of high fashion (by which we mean the legacy brands owned by LVMH, Capri, and Kering) and boardrooms. Despite the pandemic calling for a break in the fashion production cycle, the new normal – flashier, bigger, busier – insists that top designers can never truly be a cultural counterpoint. They can’t talk back into the system because they’re tied to its billionaire master. So, they imitated his arrogance (logo, more stuff, logo) and pledged allegiance to the kerching conglomerate. European fashion houses became McMaisons and clothes became merchandise.

Once the sole setter of style, these brands are now forced to compete with unseen tastemakers. With an anonymous account on High Fashion Twitter, Lotta Volkova, or TheKimbino. And where the industry is teeming with new designers, influencers, and stylists, all eye-catching, megabrands are using their one true superpower – money. This rush for eyeballs has the industry doubling down on its regular program this year as the fashion business strives to stand out. Fendi and Versace kicked off their collaboration just days after presenting their SS22 offering while the rest of the industry fell into the whimsical “creative director” phenomenon in 2021, assigning top office roles to Molly Mae, Cardi B, Emily Ratajowski, and Kendall Jenner, inaugurate the next level of influencer.

Makes sense. Designers are celebrities so why can’t celebrities just be designers? We’ve all seen the video of Travis Scott feeding fabric through a Dior sewing machine in preparation for his Cactus Jack collab. And what’s a collaborative capsule if it’s not repackaged Cruise and Resort events? Shouldn’t we really stop the production of foreign collections? Then why do I want a Fendace Baguette so much? Fashion keeps us on the lookout for novelty and even though we read about the dangers of capitalism, no one really wants to stop buying stuff. Of course the irony is, for the most part, our collective thirst for new things isn’t quenched because this collaboration has produced nothing we haven’t seen before. A collection made up of hundreds of iterative looks and lots of crossover monograms, which read more like a designer’s biggest hit than anything particularly groundbreaking.

It’s no wonder why fashion nerds are on Twitter and on High Mode TalkComment’s unimpressed, criticizing the formula, cut-and-paste design the collaboration has to offer. It was to be expected. The modern, logo-packed collaboration started at Louis Vuitton with Marc Jacobs and Stephen Sprouse in 2001, but reached new heights when Kim Jones rose to Supreme in 2017, merging the irrevocable world of fashion and streetwear. In fact, it is streetwear that bears much of the responsibility for the collaborative climate of 2021. Brands like Supreme, Vetements, Palace, and Off-White are building menswear dialects around co-branded t-shirts, hoodies and sliders. Droplets are fed to the public through rare products, streetwear bends the principle of luxury even further toward hype and novelty – and what was once scorned by those at the top has now been completely normalized.

But nothing changes the way exciting cooperation is. The Versace and Fendi exchange was bombastic and incestuous. The Gucci and Balenciaga hacks are thrilling and downright shocking. And like watching 11-year-old Lindsay Lohan reunite her divorced parents on a cruise ship, there’s something intoxicating about rival entities suddenly acknowledging each other’s existence. Isn’t that the whole premise of fanfiction? TV soap operas often come in one special event and comic book film crossovers are practically an industry unto themselves, so in the era of fashion entertainment, where labels are reorganizing themselves as production studios and media brands, why don’t we just sit back? come back and clap? Why don’t we just enjoy it? In the end, Fendacciaga felt like incident. A symbolic union after a grueling lockdown as once warring designers lay down their guns and gather for a glamorous Christmas Eve in the trenches. Demna will agree. He said that “things got too serious, too corporate,” on the Balenciaga podcast in June, adding that the Gucci collaboration was “a manifestation that fashion can be fun, and being able to laugh at itself too, is necessary.”

For Gvasalia and Michele, collaboration is not a futile marketing ploy or a frivolous money-taking, but an opportunity to do things differently and experiment. It’s six months later, though, and this hack has done less to the fashion company’s culture as a crutch. The industry has always believed in the artistic autonomy of its designers, but the reality is that fashion is now just like any other business. Despite the hustle and bustle of watching mini Donatellas walk through the beautiful gardens of Versace’s landscape, the unpredictable collaboration just feels… predictable. Of course, this industry is not a monolithic, all-consuming monster. From Glenn Martens, to Feben to Daniel Roseberry for Abdel El Tayeb, there are many young (and established) designers who are going against the grain, producing highly influential work. Collaboration will always scream the loudest but they will out of breath. Therefore, the most important question is not “how did we get here?” but “what do we do next?”