As an art form, fashion is borne of cultural and political points of view and has the capacity to alter the narrative; as a business, it relies on the state of the union to determine an apt response.
A catalyst for change in one, and a counter reaction in the other. Politics and socioeconomic commentary are some of fashion’s greatest companions. To refute their relations, or to ignore the existence of the former in the work of the latter, would be naive.
In the context of Western Europe, there’s a plethora of reasons why one can point to Britain as an example of this relationship. From Vivienne Westwood’s punk rebellion and Stella McCartney’s animal cruelty-free innovations, to Posh and Becks pioneering the relationship between fashion and football, the contemporary history of the UK and its cultural dispositions can be easily traced through fashion.
Given the transformations through the Industrial Revolution, two world wars, and a shift in power from Buckingham Palace, there is also a foundation of class tensions that has never really gone away. Unions for public transport and universities have been on semi-frequent strikes for what could be roughly five years now at a minimum; London has witnessed a cost of living crisis unlike any other in the last forty years, with exponential rent and utility bills (and all we can say is cozzie livs!!!); Brexit ruining EVERYTHING; the poor get poorer, the rich get richer, and so on.
In times of crisis, fashion has often channeled or progressed the discourse onto a platform — and while the UK struggles to keep the peace, we turn to art to aid us, motivate us, or give us a new perspective.
Judging by their latest show for AW25 at the Tate Britain, Daniel Lee and Burberry and can’t make up their minds on where they stand.
Spotted donning Burberry’s wallpaper-printed outerwear were Richard E Grant (Saltburn) and Lesley Manville (The Crown), walking with British supermodels Naomi Campbell and Erin O'Connor. Actors have become increasingly common on the runway at LFW, especially since Vogue World celebrated the West End. Those particular choices, however, should not be casually looked past. Burberry is making it clear that their alignments are with the reigning classes, and not with whatever may satirize it.
*Yawn* Who cares if Burberry wants to cater to the rich rather than eat them? Is it really such a bad look? Perhaps they weren’t even considering this angle when they made those choices, given the popularity of both Saltburn and The Crown.
I only argue this because it’s a stark contrast to how Daniel Lee started in 2023. Lee’s first collection “Burberry Streets” sought to engage Burberry with the London that exists before him, rather than reminisce on what once was. With that came a pop up collaboration with Norman’s Cafe, a North London IYKYK spin on the institutional greasy spoon (pictured below).

For my fellow Yanks, think of it like a diner, though a more polished one in a neighborhood not too far from the idyllic Hampstead Heath. North Londoners will likely attest that it’s a bit too hip these days, so Lee’s choice may not provide the same level of juxtaposition that a successful high-low partnership requires … Not many people can achieve the authenticity of Amelia Dimoldenberg’s Chicken Shop Date experience. Be that as it may, it was a bold attempt at refurbishing a renowned label that was immersive and accessible, which may have been necessary for the sake of luxury fashion’s post-Covid survival. And the creative director made it clear — coming into the role tabula rasa with massive layoffs + hiring waves abound across the company — that Burberry was envisioning a more integrated future for itself. And, in turn, for Britain.
So why incorporate the lived experiences of the working class, just to ostracize them in the next season?
With last month’s AW25, Lee’s inspiration came from “those who live and work in the capital and escape to the beautiful English countryside to breathe the fresh air, take long walks and disengage…It’s very British. In the sense that the collection merges together old and stately and grand, with often faded interior fabrics, and the very new: weather-shielding fabrics.”
There’s quite a good deal of purpose in British dressing — and Burberry dressing — that this collection produces. The materials one can associate with field sports, or spitting rain, or general melancholy (which I love) are present. However, it reminds me less of the England I know and more of what I thought it once was, before I had lived there and lived among Brits of all shapes and sizes and wealth. The collection created a wanting, a deep intrinsic desire for what you can’t have if you’re a lower class citizen, or American. As if the point isn’t the leisure itself, but the privilege of having that leisure. The kind that keeps those deemed unworthy at a distance. That’s where the pretty clothing doesn’t do it for me anymore.
Lee also is quoted explaining how instrumental British film classics were for his inspiration, that ‘studying these tropes and their deeply layered social observations’ provided a point of view for the collection. I understood Saltburn to be about the rage of the middle class, not about the frivolity and glamour of the upper class of barons and lords. That in the end, a preoccupied greedy mind will swallow those comfortably aloof systems whole. But those are just my thoughts on the deeply layered social observations!
Having the actor who played the head of the estate walking your runway communicates less an interest in Emerald Fennell’s discourse in the film and more on the virality of its aesthetics. The observations seem to have been lifted and flattened in its application to the garments. And with the potential influence a runway can affect, shouldn’t a collection’s narrative be deeper than that?
Even the logo feels increasingly less a rebrand, and more a cowardly reversion. Their motto, prorsum, is emblazoned on the knight’s flag. Using the Latin phrase for forward, Burberry announces “a clear return to its origins, in a spirit of chevalrous (re)conquest.” Origins in what manner?
Initially, it was a great way to riff off of its heritage while taking on an entirely new definition of “British”, of “Londoner”, or of “Burberry” with a street style campaign. Within the context of the most recent show, it’s a little too…imperial, don’t you think? Too conquest-y for my likings in the original sense of the word, despite Burberry’s attempt to reclaim and rename. The proletariat angle didn’t make them the money they needed, and thus it was thrown in the bin just as soon as they had polished it off.
As the British economy feels the brunt of these choices, losing money much like Burberry, the romantic fascination with that great unattainable poshness prevails. It’s delusional, colonial, and entirely reflective of the class tensions in the country.
Each Burberry campaign in silo has had compelling narratives, even if the style itself hasn’t always wowed me. I still believed in the vision, or rather the reflections they sought to make with the Britain of today. The one I witnessed as a participant, where artists and rebellion and a slew of vibrant cultural communities intersect in struggle and in joy. All the effortlessly cool parts of London that can be unearthed once you begin to dig deeper past the city’s royalness. A city of that size should be bursting at the seams with an endless variety of inspiring figures and stories. Why we’re seeing the same story again and again would be beyond me, if not for “stealth wealth” and “quiet luxury” and “understated elegance”. And, generally, whiteness.
But with Burberry’s recent collection, I would assume those initial moves didn’t boost their profit margins quite like they wanted. Whittling down the focus to their bread and butter — coats and accessories — is one thing, but a thematic reversion to the untouchable upper class Britain is entirely another. Is Daniel Lee still taking the brand down a new path, or living too much in the past?
Well, the British countryside might not push the needle into profit either. The company just posted a year-over-year loss of 74 million GBP in 2024, down 147% from a profit of 158 million pounds for the same period the previous year. Between a long history lackluster campaigns and an unsuccessfully elevated pricing strategy, Burberry has made a reputation in struggling to connect to their target consumers. Given their position in luxury as a typically more accessible brand, Burberry quite literally cannot afford to exclude those aspirational buyers.
“Traditionally viewed as an entry-point brand in luxury, Burberry balanced high-end runway pieces with affordable items like scarves and shoes that attracted a broad clientele. The recent overhaul removed these accessible items and hiked prices by up to 30-40%, alienating a large segment of buyers while repositioning the brand as more avant-garde and elitist — an approach seen as risky in the current market climate.”
Does this not sound exactly like the state of the country at large? The chain of reactions bouncing down the line: increased nationalism → Brexit → Brexit hangover and a f*cked up economy → aggressive conservative efforts by the Tories who couldn’t manage a single PM that could pick up the pieces → a power (and stability) vacuum in the wake of the Queen’s passing → immigration screeching to a halt → complaining about the price of European imports. Britain is incapable of escaping the grave they have dug for themselves at present; and all the while, as the economy feels the brunt of these choices, losing money much like Burberry, the romantic fascination with that great unattainable poshness prevails. Somehow. It’s delusional, colonial, and entirely reflective of the class tensions in the country. The 1% is preserved, while the rest of the UK goes largely forgotten.
Some moves we deem as inherently political in practice. One could argue that Burberry’s LFW runway wasn’t intending to make a statement, and that my analysis here is reaching. However, what we must realize is there can be an equally compelling political context to inaction as to action. Burberry is waffling on a few fronts: their sociopolitical stance, their target audience, and the size of their pocket change. All are interlinked. Frankly, as the saying across the Atlantic goes, I’m tired of how they’ve been faffing about. If this is indicative of Britain’s state of the union for its class hierarchy, I’m worried. No one can afford it anymore.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ryann Stutz is a part time writer and full time optimist looking to interrogate the existing world order (macro) and discover how she is meant to move through it (micro). Based in New York by way of London and, originally, Michigan.
The premise for this newsletter: tensions between an interest in pop culture/frivolity/humor & the politics of our bodies, our choices as a consumer, and of our environmental health.
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