Digital & Print Membership
Yearly + Receive 8 free printed back issues
$420 Annually
Monthly + Receive 3 free printed back issues
$40 Monthly
Im-Mortal Magenta
The Colour that Doesn’t Exist

My name is Ayham Hassan. I’m a Palestinian fashion design student based in London and Ramallah. My work is deeply rooted in my personal experiences growing up in the West Bank and is approached through a critical and analytical lens. I am dedicated to challenging and reshaping my reality through the expressive medium of fashion, drawing inspiration from the social customs and evolving culture in my city. Focusing on exploring the rich craftsmanship in Palestine, with a particular emphasis on tailoring, textiles, and draping. I actively collaborate with local artisans to incorporate their traditional techniques and expertise into my design and production process. By doing so, I aim to contribute to the preservation of Palestinian crafts and enhance the overall production cycle in my country, ensuring that these invaluable skills and traditions do not disappear, especially in the fast- evolving world we live in.
The unique aesthetic of my work is deeply influenced by the environment in which I was raised, characterized by a raw, primal, visceral, and earthy quality. This aesthetic is a reflection of the challenges I faced growing up under Israeli military occupation. To me, fashion is not simply a form of self-expression; it is a means of protection, at times from societal pressures, and always from the harsh realities of military occupation.
I firmly believe in the transformative power of design as a force for positive change and progress. Through my work, I seek to disrupt the fabric of constructed life in my community, prompting individuals to confront the pressing issues within Arab and Palestinian societies. By building upon traditional techniques and infusing them with innovative and sustainable production methods, I am committed to elevating design and industrial independence in Palestine and the Levant area. Additionally, I aspire to integrate the often-overlooked Palestinian identity into the global fashion industry.
إنهاليستثوبًاأخلعهاليوم،بلجلًداأمزقهبيد ّي.ولاهي فكرة أتركها ورائي، بل قلبًا حلو بالجوع والعطش
“It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands. Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and thirst.”
— Khalil Gibran, The Prophet (1923).
I have developed a collection that powerfully showcases my conceptual process for each look, utilizing primarily deadstock materials and end-of-stock leather skins. My selection includes an array of soft silk chiffon, woven silks, and vibrant shades of magenta. I have incorporated silk organza, rubber bands, faux leather cords, and knitted wool from Palestine. Additionally, my materials feature tulles, paper silks, metal embellishments, pleated paper, and hand-stitched woven cotton from Palestine, all contributing to a distinctive and impactful aesthetic.

Firstly, I confront the issue of cultural sustainability against the backdrop of the horrific genocide occurring in Gaza and the West Bank. My work is deeply inspired by the Magenta weaving technique and cross-stitch embroidery, which have cultural roots in the city of Majdal in Gaza. Regrettably, the last family practicing these traditional crafts faces severe intimidation from Israeli forces, with some members displaced to Egypt. Through the use of symbolic color and powerful motifs, I assertively document and celebrate the uniqueness of this heritage in every look of my graduate collection.
Secondly, I take a firm stance on environmental sustainability in the construction of my pieces. I have developed innovative zero-waste cutting techniques for each look, focusing intently on utilizing deadstock materials and leftover leather skins. My project has garnered sponsorship from Last Yarn Fabrics and support during my placement at Maison Givenchy. Together with my mother, I have crafted a wool knit scarf using wool sourced from local Palestinian shops, all while operating within a reparative production cycle. Furthermore, I proudly collaborated with eight exceptionally skilled female artisans specializing in cross-stitch embroidery; for them, this craft is a vital source of income for their households. In essence, my graduate collection is a powerful celebration of creativity and craft preservation from my hometown. It unapologetically addresses the devastating effects of genocide and war on the survival of a vibrant culture.
Incorporating my identity into my work is not just important; it is essential. I am committed to confronting socio-political issues within the fashion landscape and raising critical awareness of the industry’s environmental impacts. Through my designs, I will deliver bold statements that inspire change, foster meaningful dialogue, and promote a more thoughtful and responsible approach to fashion. My aim is to craft pieces that not only enhance personal expression but also challenge the status quo and elevate our collective voice.

CÉLINE: You moved to London four years ago to follow your dream. What was your dream?
AYHAM: My dream was always fashion. I’m fascinated by the incredible designers in London, like McQueen and Galliano. In Ramallah, there was not much of a scene. I started studying design at Birzeit University in Ramallah, and met the most incredible artists, like Amer Shomali and Omar Joseph Nasser Khoury (?). I was so privileged and honored to be taught by them. I ultimately realized that I wanted to have a career in fashion, and the goal became CSM (Central Saint Martins in London).
CÉLINE: How was the process to apply?
AYHAM: It was insane. It was literally like doing the impossible. But I applied, and got in. Then I had to face the complications of going and getting funded. At that time, I had incredible mentorship from Nol Collective (an intersectional feminist & political fashion collective out of Palestine) who were incredibly supportive. However, unfortunately, the government in Palestine does not acknowledge fashion as a serious topic, like art… There is an amazing art scene in Palestine. Just not much fashion. So, I started doing crowdfunding. The crowdfunding got picked up by people at Dazed (digital magazine - dazeddigital.com), Bella Hadid, and a lot of people in the industry, who shared it on Instagram. It was so humbling… The al-Quds al-taw’am (?) made Palestine kind of mainstream on Instagram. There is an interesting evolution in terms of what resistance is and how to communicate what we are fighting for and how to communicate our ideas on social media. Emma Davidson (Fashion Features Director at Dazed Media) wrote an article in Dazed that literally changed my life in one night. I got all my funding sorted out, and I got my sponsorship. Emma called me and said, “Prepare yourself… make sure you have an umbrella. London is rainy.”

CÉLINE: Your recent collection went viral, and it was in every single news outlet. I was so proud to see it… from GQ to Vogue to literally, everywhere. How was it for you to put out a collection? It’s so personal. Tell us a little bit about the process behind it, and the work in Palestine, the embroidery, the work with the oversized fabrics. Tell me about how you built this collection, and what it means to you.
AYHAM: At that time, with the genocide in Gaza and the effect of that in the West Bank and in the occupied Palestinian territories in the north, it was so insanely tough and difficult… We grew up with our families, our grandparents telling us horrific stories. And there’s so little documentation of what happened during the Nakba, and the Naksa, the Intifadas, and everything connected to Palestinian resistance. The late Ottoman Empire also fucked up the situation and made it possible for Israel to come about. I was studying and watching documentaries, listening to stories. What happened in Gaza happened before, and it’s happening again. And even worse. I was in shock. I was in mourning, and huge suffering, and I didn’t understand how to actually support the resistance other than posting and sharing and going to protests with my friends…
I’m in fashion, I’m a creator. I have a vision, and I have an identity that I want to share with the world. And I was aware that I needed to do something. I needed to reflect on my emotions and process everything. It was so tough to do this at UAL (University of the Arts London). Unfortunately, the show was sponsored by L’Oreal, which is complicit in the genocide. UAL is sponsored by a lot of companies that are complicit. It was really tough. But thank God the staff members and my tutors, all of them, reached out and reminded me that I was entitled to speak out. This collection, I’m not going to lie, was created in the context of being at CSM in London, but it was unapologetically about Palestine.
I’m afraid for my family, my friends, my loved ones, in Lebanon, Syria, and Palestine. It was a terrifying time, and it still is a terrifying time. It’s insane. I needed to address this reality. I could not just look through the archives of incredible designers from the ‘50s and ‘60s. I had to address what was (and is) happening to my country. I did months of research in Palestine. I was able to go to Palestine in the summer before I started my collection. I spent months looking at archives, at imagery. I learned how people were forced to leave their countries and sent to refugee camps in Jordan and Lebanon. I was looking at all of this, and I was really overwhelmed. I thought, how am I going to approach this? It was the quest for liberation and the reality of genocide. I wanted to look at the history of Gaza. I wanted to understand the power and resilience behind it. And it clicked for me, the magenta color. It looked like a symbol of resilience, a symbol of joy in the face of suffering and the horrific things that people were going through. It’s a color of beauty, it’s a color that demands, “Look at me. I’m here!” This is what Gaza is for me, and this is how I experienced it from the West Bank.

CÉLINE: Where did you start? Was the tatreez (Arabic word for Palestinian embroidery) on your work done in Palestine?
AYHAM: Yes. Because I grew up in Ramallah, I was able to connect with a network of embroiderers who are in the villages near Ramallah and Jerusalem. I’d worked with them before on one of my samples. And I was like, let me go back to that. It was a very complicated technique to develop in a short period of time. I used the embroidery, but I applied it maximally. I changed the sizing, the scale, the colors, and the placement of it. The embroidery was done by hand by eight women who, incredibly, used images I sent them to work from. They picked up my changes immediately. And of course, my mom and my aunties, my friends, and my neighbors were also checking with them and working with them. So that was beautiful, and it was really important for me, because I wanted my textiles to come from Palestine, I wanted them to have the feel of Palestinian hands. Their resilience. This is how we fight back.
The day of the show was so special. I had Sharon Rose, an incredible friend of mine, who came from Haifa to be part of it. My first model was Palestinian as well, from Ramallah. Sadly, my family could not come, but it was really interesting to meet the people who were able to be there. However, unfortunately, the school invited a designer who had served in the Israeli military to judge… And, we didn’t (and don’t) even know whether there will be a Palestine in two years, and that’s scary. That is very scary. This collection came from my reflection on that situation. Every look in the collection was specifically referenced with keywords. It told a very strong story, and the magenta was really striking. One of the pieces was a net that my mom knitted and embroidered by hand. I wanted her to be a part of it, and I wanted her to see it… we are in 2025, it’s not that complicated to travel from continent to continent, but this is how difficult it is in Palestine. You cannot actually travel easily. You have to go to Jordan. You have to cross all these checkpoints.
The Ottoman Empire made sure to kill the industries and starve the people who worked with silk in Lebanon. There’s a huge story about mulberry trees, silk, and the famine that the Ottoman Empire caused, which severely impacted the Lebanese people. And similarly, in Syria… so, we became the ones to provide the silks. There is a connection through the fabrics and the colors and the threads between our countries and our nations… People say I’m Palestinian, but I’m probably more Lebanese, more Syrian. We are all of the same ethnic makeup. When we look at the collection, we see this cry, this loud scream, this creative explosion of, look at me, look at me, I’m here… and it’s extremely moving. I think that’s why it’s touching a lot of people, and it’s going viral, because people need to see this in a way that is creative. It’s a counterbalance in such a powerful way to all the horror we are seeing.
Fashion is art to me. This virality has shown me that my work resonates on so many levels. It’s fashion, it’s design, it’s an explosion of creativity, and passion, and gender and sexuality expression. My collection is addressing the reality of genocide, the quest for liberation, and the inevitability of liberation. This is a collective liberation movement. It’s our right to scream and say, this is not okay! It is a genocide. It’s ethnic cleansing. During the show, they closed every door, they locked everything, they had police officers. My models were like, we have to do something. We have to carry signs. We have to show that this is not okay. My models, all of them, carried signs that said, “Boycott L’Oreal,” and “Free Palestine.” It was not even my suggestion. It was the models who decided to do this.

CÉLINE: Do you think your brand is punk? Do you fall in the punk lineage?
AYHAM: Maybe in the spirit of punk… it’s rebellious. We are living in very uncertain times in all industries. It’s very scary. I said everything I wanted. But unfortunately, they always tone it down. Change it a little bit. Of course, the staff are incredible and very pro-Palestinian, all of them, the tutors, students, everyone is… but the whole UAL multinational company… you just realize you don’t matter to anyone. They had a course fees reduction for Ukrainian students because they are going through the war, and I, as a Palestinian, didn’t receive any reduction. That was a huge what’s the deal? And why the hell do we have to have funding from L’Oreal to do a show to exhibit the most incredibly talented students, but we are living in a time if you’re not in that show, you’re not going to be shared. If you’re not posted, you’re not going to get a job. If you’re not shared, people are not seeing your work, and we deserve to show our work. You know, we worked super hard on it…
CÉLINE: What’s next for you? Where are you headed?
AYHAM: The ultimate goal is to open my own collective and work with students, work with designers and freelancers and artists in Palestine, in Lebanon and Syria, and Jordan, and hopefully make my statement in the industry. I have so much to say. I’m experiencing a genocide. My family is in Palestine. I am from Ramallah. I’m seeing all these stories, and at the same time, I have to be inspired. I have to be creative. I have to be on my best behavior, to be every day doing my best work. And I have to use different words to speak to people, and I have to approach it differently and humbly tone down. So which one? If it’s about being Palestinian, yes, it is about being Palestinian, about having to discuss really harsh topics in a fashion context. And this is what I’m providing to the industry. This is what I’m going to do every single season, every single year. This is what I’m going to speak about. This is what I’m going to approach.
CÉLINE: If you were to work at a big house, at a traditional fashion house, is there one you would want to be a part of?
AYHAM: Unfortunately, everything is complicit with everything horrible that I don’t stand for. And that’s why I have to do my own thing. Of course, I would love to work with Givenchy and Dior… You’re talking about years and years and years of craft, beautiful work, talented people, and the money to do the absolute best work. Unfortunately, I realized that I don’t have a space in that place because they are complicit. That’s why it is really important for me to do my own thing. I have so much to say on every topic, not just Palestine.

More from: Ayham Hassan
Keep reading:
Heirlooms:
the Forest as Gallery
Carlos Agredano, Gabrielle Richardson
Carlos Agredano
Heirlooms:
the Forest as Gallery
Céline Semaan, Gabrielle Richardson
Céline Semaan
{
"article":
{
"title" : "Im-Mortal Magenta: The Colour that Doesn’t Exist",
"author" : "Ayham Hassan",
"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/ayham-hassan",
"date" : "2025-09-08 10:05:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/AYHAM-HASSAN-LOOK8.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "My name is Ayham Hassan. I’m a Palestinian fashion design student based in London and Ramallah. My work is deeply rooted in my personal experiences growing up in the West Bank and is approached through a critical and analytical lens. I am dedicated to challenging and reshaping my reality through the expressive medium of fashion, drawing inspiration from the social customs and evolving culture in my city. Focusing on exploring the rich craftsmanship in Palestine, with a particular emphasis on tailoring, textiles, and draping. I actively collaborate with local artisans to incorporate their traditional techniques and expertise into my design and production process. By doing so, I aim to contribute to the preservation of Palestinian crafts and enhance the overall production cycle in my country, ensuring that these invaluable skills and traditions do not disappear, especially in the fast- evolving world we live in.The unique aesthetic of my work is deeply influenced by the environment in which I was raised, characterized by a raw, primal, visceral, and earthy quality. This aesthetic is a reflection of the challenges I faced growing up under Israeli military occupation. To me, fashion is not simply a form of self-expression; it is a means of protection, at times from societal pressures, and always from the harsh realities of military occupation.I firmly believe in the transformative power of design as a force for positive change and progress. Through my work, I seek to disrupt the fabric of constructed life in my community, prompting individuals to confront the pressing issues within Arab and Palestinian societies. By building upon traditional techniques and infusing them with innovative and sustainable production methods, I am committed to elevating design and industrial independence in Palestine and the Levant area. Additionally, I aspire to integrate the often-overlooked Palestinian identity into the global fashion industry. إنهاليستثوبًاأخلعهاليوم،بلجلًداأمزقهبيد ّي.ولاهي فكرة أتركها ورائي، بل قلبًا حلو بالجوع والعطش “It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands. Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and thirst.”— Khalil Gibran, The Prophet (1923).I have developed a collection that powerfully showcases my conceptual process for each look, utilizing primarily deadstock materials and end-of-stock leather skins. My selection includes an array of soft silk chiffon, woven silks, and vibrant shades of magenta. I have incorporated silk organza, rubber bands, faux leather cords, and knitted wool from Palestine. Additionally, my materials feature tulles, paper silks, metal embellishments, pleated paper, and hand-stitched woven cotton from Palestine, all contributing to a distinctive and impactful aesthetic.Firstly, I confront the issue of cultural sustainability against the backdrop of the horrific genocide occurring in Gaza and the West Bank. My work is deeply inspired by the Magenta weaving technique and cross-stitch embroidery, which have cultural roots in the city of Majdal in Gaza. Regrettably, the last family practicing these traditional crafts faces severe intimidation from Israeli forces, with some members displaced to Egypt. Through the use of symbolic color and powerful motifs, I assertively document and celebrate the uniqueness of this heritage in every look of my graduate collection.Secondly, I take a firm stance on environmental sustainability in the construction of my pieces. I have developed innovative zero-waste cutting techniques for each look, focusing intently on utilizing deadstock materials and leftover leather skins. My project has garnered sponsorship from Last Yarn Fabrics and support during my placement at Maison Givenchy. Together with my mother, I have crafted a wool knit scarf using wool sourced from local Palestinian shops, all while operating within a reparative production cycle. Furthermore, I proudly collaborated with eight exceptionally skilled female artisans specializing in cross-stitch embroidery; for them, this craft is a vital source of income for their households. In essence, my graduate collection is a powerful celebration of creativity and craft preservation from my hometown. It unapologetically addresses the devastating effects of genocide and war on the survival of a vibrant culture.Incorporating my identity into my work is not just important; it is essential. I am committed to confronting socio-political issues within the fashion landscape and raising critical awareness of the industry’s environmental impacts. Through my designs, I will deliver bold statements that inspire change, foster meaningful dialogue, and promote a more thoughtful and responsible approach to fashion. My aim is to craft pieces that not only enhance personal expression but also challenge the status quo and elevate our collective voice.CÉLINE: You moved to London four years ago to follow your dream. What was your dream?AYHAM: My dream was always fashion. I’m fascinated by the incredible designers in London, like McQueen and Galliano. In Ramallah, there was not much of a scene. I started studying design at Birzeit University in Ramallah, and met the most incredible artists, like Amer Shomali and Omar Joseph Nasser Khoury (?). I was so privileged and honored to be taught by them. I ultimately realized that I wanted to have a career in fashion, and the goal became CSM (Central Saint Martins in London).CÉLINE: How was the process to apply?AYHAM: It was insane. It was literally like doing the impossible. But I applied, and got in. Then I had to face the complications of going and getting funded. At that time, I had incredible mentorship from Nol Collective (an intersectional feminist & political fashion collective out of Palestine) who were incredibly supportive. However, unfortunately, the government in Palestine does not acknowledge fashion as a serious topic, like art… There is an amazing art scene in Palestine. Just not much fashion. So, I started doing crowdfunding. The crowdfunding got picked up by people at Dazed (digital magazine - dazeddigital.com), Bella Hadid, and a lot of people in the industry, who shared it on Instagram. It was so humbling… The al-Quds al-taw’am (?) made Palestine kind of mainstream on Instagram. There is an interesting evolution in terms of what resistance is and how to communicate what we are fighting for and how to communicate our ideas on social media. Emma Davidson (Fashion Features Director at Dazed Media) wrote an article in Dazed that literally changed my life in one night. I got all my funding sorted out, and I got my sponsorship. Emma called me and said, “Prepare yourself… make sure you have an umbrella. London is rainy.”CÉLINE: Your recent collection went viral, and it was in every single news outlet. I was so proud to see it… from GQ to Vogue to literally, everywhere. How was it for you to put out a collection? It’s so personal. Tell us a little bit about the process behind it, and the work in Palestine, the embroidery, the work with the oversized fabrics. Tell me about how you built this collection, and what it means to you.AYHAM: At that time, with the genocide in Gaza and the effect of that in the West Bank and in the occupied Palestinian territories in the north, it was so insanely tough and difficult… We grew up with our families, our grandparents telling us horrific stories. And there’s so little documentation of what happened during the Nakba, and the Naksa, the Intifadas, and everything connected to Palestinian resistance. The late Ottoman Empire also fucked up the situation and made it possible for Israel to come about. I was studying and watching documentaries, listening to stories. What happened in Gaza happened before, and it’s happening again. And even worse. I was in shock. I was in mourning, and huge suffering, and I didn’t understand how to actually support the resistance other than posting and sharing and going to protests with my friends…I’m in fashion, I’m a creator. I have a vision, and I have an identity that I want to share with the world. And I was aware that I needed to do something. I needed to reflect on my emotions and process everything. It was so tough to do this at UAL (University of the Arts London). Unfortunately, the show was sponsored by L’Oreal, which is complicit in the genocide. UAL is sponsored by a lot of companies that are complicit. It was really tough. But thank God the staff members and my tutors, all of them, reached out and reminded me that I was entitled to speak out. This collection, I’m not going to lie, was created in the context of being at CSM in London, but it was unapologetically about Palestine.I’m afraid for my family, my friends, my loved ones, in Lebanon, Syria, and Palestine. It was a terrifying time, and it still is a terrifying time. It’s insane. I needed to address this reality. I could not just look through the archives of incredible designers from the ‘50s and ‘60s. I had to address what was (and is) happening to my country. I did months of research in Palestine. I was able to go to Palestine in the summer before I started my collection. I spent months looking at archives, at imagery. I learned how people were forced to leave their countries and sent to refugee camps in Jordan and Lebanon. I was looking at all of this, and I was really overwhelmed. I thought, how am I going to approach this? It was the quest for liberation and the reality of genocide. I wanted to look at the history of Gaza. I wanted to understand the power and resilience behind it. And it clicked for me, the magenta color. It looked like a symbol of resilience, a symbol of joy in the face of suffering and the horrific things that people were going through. It’s a color of beauty, it’s a color that demands, “Look at me. I’m here!” This is what Gaza is for me, and this is how I experienced it from the West Bank.CÉLINE: Where did you start? Was the tatreez (Arabic word for Palestinian embroidery) on your work done in Palestine?AYHAM: Yes. Because I grew up in Ramallah, I was able to connect with a network of embroiderers who are in the villages near Ramallah and Jerusalem. I’d worked with them before on one of my samples. And I was like, let me go back to that. It was a very complicated technique to develop in a short period of time. I used the embroidery, but I applied it maximally. I changed the sizing, the scale, the colors, and the placement of it. The embroidery was done by hand by eight women who, incredibly, used images I sent them to work from. They picked up my changes immediately. And of course, my mom and my aunties, my friends, and my neighbors were also checking with them and working with them. So that was beautiful, and it was really important for me, because I wanted my textiles to come from Palestine, I wanted them to have the feel of Palestinian hands. Their resilience. This is how we fight back.The day of the show was so special. I had Sharon Rose, an incredible friend of mine, who came from Haifa to be part of it. My first model was Palestinian as well, from Ramallah. Sadly, my family could not come, but it was really interesting to meet the people who were able to be there. However, unfortunately, the school invited a designer who had served in the Israeli military to judge… And, we didn’t (and don’t) even know whether there will be a Palestine in two years, and that’s scary. That is very scary. This collection came from my reflection on that situation. Every look in the collection was specifically referenced with keywords. It told a very strong story, and the magenta was really striking. One of the pieces was a net that my mom knitted and embroidered by hand. I wanted her to be a part of it, and I wanted her to see it… we are in 2025, it’s not that complicated to travel from continent to continent, but this is how difficult it is in Palestine. You cannot actually travel easily. You have to go to Jordan. You have to cross all these checkpoints.The Ottoman Empire made sure to kill the industries and starve the people who worked with silk in Lebanon. There’s a huge story about mulberry trees, silk, and the famine that the Ottoman Empire caused, which severely impacted the Lebanese people. And similarly, in Syria… so, we became the ones to provide the silks. There is a connection through the fabrics and the colors and the threads between our countries and our nations… People say I’m Palestinian, but I’m probably more Lebanese, more Syrian. We are all of the same ethnic makeup. When we look at the collection, we see this cry, this loud scream, this creative explosion of, look at me, look at me, I’m here… and it’s extremely moving. I think that’s why it’s touching a lot of people, and it’s going viral, because people need to see this in a way that is creative. It’s a counterbalance in such a powerful way to all the horror we are seeing.Fashion is art to me. This virality has shown me that my work resonates on so many levels. It’s fashion, it’s design, it’s an explosion of creativity, and passion, and gender and sexuality expression. My collection is addressing the reality of genocide, the quest for liberation, and the inevitability of liberation. This is a collective liberation movement. It’s our right to scream and say, this is not okay! It is a genocide. It’s ethnic cleansing. During the show, they closed every door, they locked everything, they had police officers. My models were like, we have to do something. We have to carry signs. We have to show that this is not okay. My models, all of them, carried signs that said, “Boycott L’Oreal,” and “Free Palestine.” It was not even my suggestion. It was the models who decided to do this.CÉLINE: Do you think your brand is punk? Do you fall in the punk lineage?AYHAM: Maybe in the spirit of punk… it’s rebellious. We are living in very uncertain times in all industries. It’s very scary. I said everything I wanted. But unfortunately, they always tone it down. Change it a little bit. Of course, the staff are incredible and very pro-Palestinian, all of them, the tutors, students, everyone is… but the whole UAL multinational company… you just realize you don’t matter to anyone. They had a course fees reduction for Ukrainian students because they are going through the war, and I, as a Palestinian, didn’t receive any reduction. That was a huge what’s the deal? And why the hell do we have to have funding from L’Oreal to do a show to exhibit the most incredibly talented students, but we are living in a time if you’re not in that show, you’re not going to be shared. If you’re not posted, you’re not going to get a job. If you’re not shared, people are not seeing your work, and we deserve to show our work. You know, we worked super hard on it…CÉLINE: What’s next for you? Where are you headed?AYHAM: The ultimate goal is to open my own collective and work with students, work with designers and freelancers and artists in Palestine, in Lebanon and Syria, and Jordan, and hopefully make my statement in the industry. I have so much to say. I’m experiencing a genocide. My family is in Palestine. I am from Ramallah. I’m seeing all these stories, and at the same time, I have to be inspired. I have to be creative. I have to be on my best behavior, to be every day doing my best work. And I have to use different words to speak to people, and I have to approach it differently and humbly tone down. So which one? If it’s about being Palestinian, yes, it is about being Palestinian, about having to discuss really harsh topics in a fashion context. And this is what I’m providing to the industry. This is what I’m going to do every single season, every single year. This is what I’m going to speak about. This is what I’m going to approach.CÉLINE: If you were to work at a big house, at a traditional fashion house, is there one you would want to be a part of?AYHAM: Unfortunately, everything is complicit with everything horrible that I don’t stand for. And that’s why I have to do my own thing. Of course, I would love to work with Givenchy and Dior… You’re talking about years and years and years of craft, beautiful work, talented people, and the money to do the absolute best work. Unfortunately, I realized that I don’t have a space in that place because they are complicit. That’s why it is really important for me to do my own thing. I have so much to say on every topic, not just Palestine."
}
,
"relatedposts": [
{
"title" : "Black Liberation Views on Palestine",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/black-liberation-on-palestine",
"date" : "2025-10-17 09:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/mandela-keffiyeh.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "In understanding global politics, it is important to look at Black liberation struggles as one important source of moral perspective. So, when looking at Palestine, we look to Black leaders to see how they perceived the Palestinian struggle in relation to theirs, from the 1960’s to today.Why must we understand where the injustice lies? Because, as Desmond Tutu famously said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”{% for person in site.data.quotes-black-liberation-palestine %}{{ person.name }}{% for quote in person.quotes %}“{{ quote.text }}”{% if quote.source %}— {{ quote.source }}{% endif %}{% endfor %}{% endfor %}"
}
,
{
"title" : "First Anniversary Celebration of EIP",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "events",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/1st-anniversary-of-eip",
"date" : "2025-10-14 18:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/WSA_EIP_Launch_Cover.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent Publishing",
"content" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent PublishingJoin Everything is Political on November 21st for the launch of our End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine.This members-only evening will feature a benefit dinner, cocktails, and live performances in celebration of a year of independent media, critical voices, and collective resistance.The EventNovember 21, 2025, 7-11pmLower Manhattan, New YorkLaunching our End-of-Year Special Edition MagazineSpecial appearances and performancesFood & Drink includedTickets are extremely limited, reserve yours now!Become an annual print member: get x back issues of EIP, receive the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine, and come to the Anniversary Celebration.$470Already a member? Sign in to get your special offer. Buy Ticket $150 Just $50 ! and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine Buy ticket $150 and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine "
}
,
{
"title" : "Miu Miu Transforms the Apron From Trad Wife to Boss Lady: The sexiest thing in Paris was a work garment",
"author" : "Khaoula Ghanem",
"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/miu-miu-transforms-the-apron-from-trad-wife-to-boss-lady",
"date" : "2025-10-14 13:05:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_MiuMiu_Apron.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.",
"content" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.From the opening look—German actress Sandra Hüller in a utilitarian deep-blue apron layered over a barn jacket and neat blue shirting—the thesis was loud: the “cover” becomes the thing itself. As silhouettes marched on, aprons multiplied and mutated—industrial drill cotton with front pockets, raw canvas, taffeta and cloqué silk, lace-edged versions that flirted with lingerie, even black leather and crystal-studded incarnations that reframed function as ornament. What the apron traditionally shields (clothes, bodies, “the good dress”) was inverted; the protection became the prized surface. Prada herself spelled it out: “The apron is my favorite piece of clothing… it symbolizes women, from factories through to serving to the home.”Miu Miu Spring 2026 Ready-to-Wear. SuppliedThis inversion matters historically. The apron’s earliest fashion-adjacent life was industrial. It served as a barrier against grease, heat, stain. It was a token of paid and unpaid care. Miu Miu tapped that lineage directly (canvas, work belts, D-ring hardware), then sliced it against domestic codes (florals, ruffles, crochet), and finally pushed into nightlife with bejeweled and leather bibs. The garment’s migration across materials made its social migrations visible. It is a kitchen apron, yes, but also one for labs, hospitals, and factories; the set and styling insisted on that plurality.What makes the apron such a loaded emblem is not just what it covers, but what it reveals about who has always been working. Before industrialization formalized labor into factory shifts and wages, women were already performing invisible labour, the kind that doesn’t exist on payrolls but sits at the foundation of every functioning society. They were cooking, cleaning, raising children, nursing the ill. These tasks were foundational to every economy and yet absent from every ledger. Even when women entered the industrial workforce, from textile plants to wartime assembly lines, their domestic responsibilities did not disappear, they doubled. In that context, the apron here is a quiet manifesto for the strength that goes unrecorded, unthanked, and yet keeps civilization running.The algorithmic rise of the “tradwife,” the influencer economy that packages domesticity as soft power, is the contemporary cultural shadow here. Miu Miu’s apron refuses that rehearsal. In fact, it’s intentionally awkward—oversized, undone, worn over bikinis or with sturdy shoes—so the viewer can’t flatten it into Pinterest-ready nostalgia. Critics noted the collection as a reclamation, a rebuttal to the flattening forces of the feed: the apron as a uniform for endurance rather than submission. The show notes framed it simply as “a consideration of the work of women,” a reminder that the invisible economies of effort—paid, unpaid, emotional—still structure daily life.If that sounds unusually explicit for a luxury runway, consider the designer. Prada trained as a mime at Milan’s Piccolo Teatro, earned a PhD in political science, joined the Italian Communist Party, and was active in the women’s rights movement in 1970s Milan. Those facts are not trivia; they are the grammar of her clothes. Decades of “ugly chic” were, essentially, a slow campaign against easy consumption and default beauty. In 2026, the apron becomes the newest dialect. An emblem drawn from leftist feminist history, recoded into a product that still has to sell. That tension—belief versus business—is the Miuccia paradox, and it’s precisely why these aprons read as statements, not trends.The runway narrative traced a journey from function to fetish. Early looks were squarely utilitarian—thick cottons, pocketed bibs—before migrating toward fragility and sparkle. Lace aprons laid transparently over swimmers; crystal-studded aprons slipped across cocktail territory; leather apron-dresses stiffened posture into armor. The sequencing proposed the same silhouette can encode labor, intimacy, and spectacle depending on fabrication. If most brands smuggle “workwear” in as set dressing, Miu Miu forced it onto the body as the central garment and an unmissable reminder that the feminine is often asked to be both shield and display at once.It’s instructive to read this collection against the house’s last mega-viral object: the micro-mini of Spring 2022, a pleated, raw-hem wafer that colonized timelines and magazine covers. That skirt’s thesis was exposure—hip bones and hemlines as post-lockdown spectacle, Y2K nostalgia framed as liberation-lite. The apron, ironically, covers. Where the micro-mini trafficked in the optics of freedom (and the speed of virality), the apron asks about the conditions that make freedom possible: who launders, who cooks, who cares? To move from “look at me” to “who is working here?” is a pivot from optics to ethics, without abandoning desire. (The aprons are, after all, deeply covetable.) In a platform economy that still rewards the shortest hemline with the biggest click-through, this is a sophisticated counter-program.Yet the designer is not romanticizing toil. There’s wit in the ruffles and perversity in the crystals; neither negate labor, they metabolize it. The most striking image is the apron treated as couture-adjacent. Traditionally, an apron protects the precious thing beneath; here, the apron is the precious thing. You could call that hypocrisy—luxurizing the uniform of workers. Or, strategy, insisting that the symbols of care and effort deserve visibility and investment.Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. The “tradwife” script thrives because it is aesthetically legible and commercially scalable. It packages gender ideology as moodboard. Miu Miu counters with garments whose legibility flickers. The collection’s best looks ask viewers to reconcile tenderness with toughness, convenience with care, which is exactly the mental choreography demanded of women in every context from office to home to online.If you wanted a season-defining “It” item, you’ll still find it. The apron is poised to proliferate across fast-fashion and luxury alike. But the deeper success is structural: Miu Miu re-centered labor as an aesthetic category. That’s rarer than a viral skirt. It’s a reminder that clothes don’t merely decorate life, they describe and negotiate it. In making the apron the subject rather than the prop, Prada turned a garment of service into a platform for agency. It’s precisely the kind of cultural recursion you’d expect from a designer shaped by feminist politics, who never stopped treating fashion as an instrument of thought as much as style.The last image to hold onto is deceptively simple: a woman in an apron, neither fetishized nor infantilized, striding, hands free. Not a costume for nostalgia, not a meme for the feed, but a working uniform reframed, respected, and suddenly, undeniably beautiful. That is Miu Miu’s provocation for Spring 2026: the work behind the work, made visible at last."
}
]
}