The Truth About Fashion Design School

Art/design school is underratedly tough, especially when you’re in an especially competitive school/program. Creative external competitions sometimes create an environment that pits students against one another, especially if professors and directors encourage it. Students will think their worth, or the worth of their work, is based around these competitions. Some professors will play evident favorites, and some will put you down until you’re in tears. There are limited space & resources, thus creating physical competition (in addition to mental) against one another just to get your own work done.

You’re under constant pressure to produce, produce, produce—and not just produce anything, but meaningful, intentional, and “impactful” work. It is important to remember that colleges are still institutions functioning under capitalism. How can one create meaningful, intentional, and “impactful” work when we are constantly told to just produce? Impact takes time and intention. Meaning of work comes with your intentions and process. Your work becomes a part of the machine that is capitalism—under a system that only favors things that are “sellable” and “marketable.” Colleges are no different. These institutions will favor what will create the most capital for them, masking a false sense of creative innovation that the directors & professors preach, when in fact they do not highlight work unless it is “palatable” to the public of the art/design world (which can often be very shallow). These institutions favor shallow design, because that is what is palatable to the public.

I don’t regret going to design school. I had a great privilege of being able to attend a very expensive school in a very expensive city (NYC), and honestly, I had a great experience there regardless of institutional politics and having several mental breakdowns. I learned how to get my shit together, and adapted very quickly to the fast-paced, competitive, soul-sucking atmosphere. I learned that these competitions, both external (sponsored projects) and internal (our final runway show—more on this later), didn’t define my worth as a designer. I learned how to really think conceptually and creatively—beyond just creating a “cool” collection—in a way of translating fashion as a medium, how to think outside the broader context of the traditional fashion runway, and how to utilize this medium further to tell a story or create impact. I learned how to think about fashion in an extremely uncomfortable way, from learning about the terrors of fast fashion and overconsumption to challenging myself as a designer in how to think outside of the traditional runway context of clothes as pure capitalist consumption.

I was also extremely lucky to have had great professors throughout school, which is not the case for a lot of my classmates. I made great connections with a lot of professors and mentors throughout my time there and was able to learn a lot. I was eager to learn and yearned to become a better designer while finding my “voice” as a designer as well. We had an abundance of great resources (although they could have paid for our sewing supplies….but whatever), which is still growing, that I was very thankful for.

But come senior year, the final year, you quickly learn the politics of institutions. Colleges turn into corporations, even though they preach “anti-consumption” and “sustainability.” The directors will only value your work, and you as a designer, if you fall what they are trying to sell at the moment. During my time, it was “gender issues” and “sustainable design”—hot topics during the climate change crisis and the rise of the #metoo movement. You wanted to talk about race through your work? White women won’t understand it, so they won’t even try to sell it. And it’s not something you want to sell to Barney’s or Dover Street Market? Forget it—these rich white donors won’t even look your way. You want to talk about wealth disparity or incarceration? This institution isn’t for the poor, why do you think they would even care? “What is fashion if it isn’t meant to be consumed within the free market and system of capitalism?” these people ask. Well, that’s what we are trying to break, isn’t it?

The work you produce in your final year just becomes another part of the money-making machine for this institution. Hierarchy comes into play, but remember that these folks are just ordinary people who like the idea of power. They will spotlight young designers (who are often privileged enough to outsource their work while other students meticulously work on their own or with the help of their very nice friends) who will produce catchy, eye-catching headlines for them: [Insert Name Here], the up-and-coming, innovative & sustainable designer who makes clothes for cool girls. Or, [Insert name here], the [school name] grad who talks about gender through her clothes. Kind of like how i-D selects “young, up and coming” artists who all produce similar types of work, but always seems to make some catchy headline out of it.

Then there’s the infamous Runway Show that my school was famous for hosting at the end of each school year showcasing selected fashion design undergraduates’ work. It serves as a benefit to raise scholarship money for students (aka a show for rich white people). Out of hundreds of students, only 20-30 are selected to showcase their work, thus further fostering this already competitive climate. This is where it gets really political, because every student in this program works and dreams to become a part of this show during their last year. However, with this traditional runway format, it doesn’t suit or favor everyone’s final year thesis, especially with the rise of non-traditional theses. I did an interactive performance piece, while others created books/zines, interactive games using clothing, installations, or videos. Some used multiple mediums as aspects to their theses.

This might not seem like a big deal to some, but at the time I found it incredibly discerning that out of the huge variety of incredible, creative, and innovative thesis projects that came out of my graduating year, the runway show designers were chosen out of nepotism and “aesthetic.” For a school that preaches innovation and creativity, they seem to go back to their old tactics to ensure marketability, instead of highlighting work of students who embraced the creative freedom of being able to produce non-traditional theses (as implemented by directors/heads of the program).

But, the runway benefit show isn’t all that, and that was something I knew. The show is formatted so that only certain types of theses were showcased. Schools don’t want to show theses that expose societal truths (two designers whose work commented on sexist clothing construction and incarceration of black folks were both nixed from the show last minute for BS reasons), because that won’t sell to these rich, white donors. It’s important to stay true to your work and your voice, though. People want to be a part of this show because they think it’ll mean more exposure for them, but in six months people will forget who even showcased at this undergraduate show. Being a part of this show doesn’t increase chances of getting a job after college; students I know who were featured in the show struggled to find stable, design-related jobs after graduation. Because after your graduating year’s show, there will just be another one after that, featuring newer, potentially “fresher” designers.

Colleges as an institution are not designed to look out for you; that would get in the way of their capitalist agenda. To be honest, in the program I was in, it’s very hard to excel if you’re not privileged. The work load is so intense and time consuming that it does leave not much time to be able to hold a part-time job; your best bet is to get an on-campus job or a paid internship (which is less flexible than an on-campus job). Furthermore, studio coursework is less flexible in terms of working remotely — it’s harder to work on your projects/homework while you’re working at your job since it requires more materials and a certain type of work space. You have to produce so much from week to week that you have to spend lots of money on supplies and material, in which the school does not cover at all. Some professors will even expect elevated fabrications and elaborate presentations, which means even more money. By the time you’re in your last year, some professors will expect you to outsource your garments, meaning that you pay a professional seamstress to sew your garments together or a professional pattern maker to help create the blueprint for your garments. You’re drained financially, mentally, and emotionally, and the school makes you believe that the worth of your academic career is based upon external projects that gives the school recognition and a runway show that will just make the school money. Students work so hard just to help the school get more money, but what about yourself, and your own creative journey as a designer?

Working a corporate design job now, I was luckily prepared to deal with corporate politics that I learned the ways of while I was in my final year in college. But I encourage all students thinking about design school or who are in design school to try to design as authentically to themselves as they can, with guidance from their professors (you are paying to be at the school, after all). Explore, experiment, and be as creative as you possibly can, because once you start working (even if it’s your own brand) it’s a lot more limiting because financials get in the way. 3-4 years ago, I would have never thought I would produce the type of work I did for my thesis project, and I’m still proud of how everything came to be. I learned a lot of lessons and met a lot of awesome people along the way. Most importantly, have a lot of fun with the work you do (which may sound daunting and ironic due to the nature of art/design school where everyone is miserable because they’re overworked). You’re there to fulfill your own academic journey; not to work up to a false sense of publicity. Institutions are money-making machines: you’re just fueling their capital.