Discussing embodiment with a designer is always a pleasure, as it introduces a tangible dimension to the conversation, it adds layers. Garments serve as vectors of embodied reality and authenticity, reflecting our personal choices in self-presentation to the world. Tim Wirth and I delved into the underlying intention directed toward the body of the wearer that is inherent in fashion design.
Tim recently completed his master's at the Fashion Department of the Royal Academy of Antwerp, where he focused on material research and the sensory experience of his garments on the wearer. Through his work, he effectively questioned whether our commitment to the fashion system is truly worth the emotional and physical discomfort it often imposes—particularly in a context where visual impact takes precedence over wearability.
Cyana-Djoher: Since you’re a designer, you have a strong body practice, I’m curious to know what embodiment evokes you.
Tim Wirth: To me, embodiment is more about the body in which our spirit exists, in which it can reincarnate. The spirit remains, and the body changes.The body is an envelope sheltering our souls, but I also attach some “fashion” meaning to it.
Garments act as an additional envelope allowing us to incarnate ourselves within these layers and become something else.
There are so many levels to this: soul and body, garment and soul…
C: I like this idea of different levels. To me, our anatomical body and these material bodies—the garments—work together in harmony. I also believe there’s no real separation between the body and the soul; through sensitivity and sensibility, we gain access to our true selves. Garments function somewhat like an interface, a material link to reality and incarnation.
T: Yes, I see what you mean. I think the act of dressing up is about making choices and sometimes making statements. Creating and designing garments is similar—it's all about the intention and desire you have for yourself or others, and then bringing that vision to life materially. Personally, I recognize that I might be biased on these issues because my body fits the standards, so I never have to wonder if something will fit me or not. But overall, for me, the act of dressing up is less about actual shapes and more about a certain mindset or state of mind. For example, I hate wearing red—I find a certain peace of mind in wearing black or plain colors.
C: How do you decenter yourself from these biases and personal preferences?
T: Well, when I design, I don’t really think about myself. I don’t design what I want to wear.
C: How do you explain this?
T: I think it would be concerning if it were the opposite. As a designer, you should be able to see beyond your personal preferences. Of course, having a consistent theme or "red thread" is important for your identity and brand. But you should always be able to tap into something broader than yourself. For instance, when I design womenswear, it becomes more apparent. When I'm in my "designer envelope," I don't think like a consumer; I think in terms of the ideas, silhouettes, and attitudes I want to convey—and it's always temporary.
C: It reminds me of what Raf Simons wrote in Redux about why he shifted to fashion design for the sake of community. You can also see it in his collaborations with Sterling Ruby—it feels like he’s always in tune with the collective, or at least he tries to be. Not necessarily in terms of aesthetics, but more in terms of the communication and creative freedom he seeks to foster.
T: Yes, exactly. That’s why I believe it’s dangerous for a designer to act in the opposite way. We have the capacity to be curious and innovate for the collective, and we should always be able to step outside ourselves, drop the ego, and follow this guideline.
Otherwise, it becomes boring and can be very damaging to the body. When you consistently create only what you love and want to see on others, it becomes too much about you and not enough about the garments, or about people’s comfort, ease, and movement.
I think design can help you explore and reflect on your life experiences through garments. For example, when I was grappling with heavy questions about masculinity—how I perceive men and myself as a man—I also approached it through design. My master’s collection, however, was a bit different.
C: How different?
T: It was more personal, more about what I deeply wanted rather than what I needed to in order to please the Academy, more lived through, and embodied in a way. Also, because I referenced it a lot from my own perspective and wardrobe. My concept centered on the connection and intimacy we develop with garments. I wanted to go beyond...
C: The visual impact?
T: Yes exactly! And you know, my wardrobe can be boring, so I focused on material research, which led to experiments like trompe-l’oeil latex denim. I aimed to create standardized garments, but using a plaster cast instead of 3D printing was a blessing, as it captured unique details.
C: It’s interesting, though, that you mention standardization while you’ve also worked on some personal pieces. It seems quite poetic and less automatic, actually—denim breathes and lives through us. It feels like you created “unique” pieces not just because they are innovative, but because they formally bear the imprint of your physical envelope. This brings to mind the notion of a “sartorial imprint” that I read about in an article on Chalayan. In a way, these pants and jackets are you, but worn on a different body.
T: I never thought about it that way, but yes! Denim is indeed emblematic of a garment that accompanies you throughout your life. It visibly carries the imprint of its wearer. I think this concept worked well.
I aimed to create clothing with a genuine history, not just shapes that were referenced. To me, it was about seeing the garment in a new light, deciphering something deeper within it.I wanted the garment to have its own narrative, to speak for itself in a way.
C: Is this dual reading important to you? Fashion often comes across as purely visual, and it seems necessary to have an intention for something more—to give more and offer more, doesn't it?
T: I wouldn’t say we should force it, though. For instance, many people didn’t realize that the denim was actually latex. I’m always searching for poetry within the details, but for each look, I’m constantly considering how the person wearing the garments feels. It’s essential for me to understand the impact of such details on the wearer’s body, attitude, and posture.
C: So, the fabrics and materials are also key to this balance? Latex is quite constraining in a way…
T: Yes, I think this look was more of an “addition”—something I created for myself, a personal statement channeling the collection's spirit rather than a key look because it’s less durable and more ephemeral. That’s why it has such an ambivalent posture. I didn’t focus on wearability for this piece, but I used it as a statement on the body. For me, wearability and comfort are most important. You can see other looks and collections where the shapes are intriguing and the creativity is evident, but a bump on the back of a model’s body might feel uncomfortable, even if it’s visually impressive..
C: Do you feel like these visually impactful looks and collections lack consideration for the body?
T: Yes, exactly. I would say it's quite disrespectful to the body. A designer’s role is to work with the body, to dress it and elevate it. Asking the fitting model how they feel should be a requirement because discomfort and unease only lead to more waste. To me, sustainability comes first. You can create biotextiles and work with innovative materials, but if the garments aren't worn, they become wasteful.
C: You mentioned seeking “attitudes” in your practice. I believe that embodying oneself is also an attitude towards the world, rather than merely shifting from one archetype to another. How do you envision this?
T: The love and passion I have for design began with wearing garments and understanding how one can make a piece their own. I believe that design has the power to encourage people to adopt different attitudes. For instance, manipulating the length of a collar can alter a jacket’s appearance—making it looser if longer and more rigid if shorter.
These subtleties fascinate me. It’s a play of proportions both on the garment and the body. Attitude imparts strength to garments, and the synergy between the garment and the wearer brings this strength to life.
C: Do you believe it is infused in the garment and then diffused through the act of wearing it?
T: Yes, that’s the synergy. I read something that stuck with me; it’s a bit mundane but goes like this: “The world has more to offer to fashion than fashion has to offer the world,” and I think it makes a lot of sense. Garments wouldn’t be what they are if we didn’t wear them with attitude—they would just be random otherwise. This is evident in many shows; if a model doesn’t feel comfortable, vulnerable, or powerful, it shows. You always need to pay attention to the body and the potential synergy, rather than just focusing on visual considerations—otherwise, it’s not wearable. Paying attention to people’s attitudes and the way garments move on their bodies is how I make decisions in terms of design.
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