To Johann Ehrardt, fashion is an anecdotal act of sculpting individualised armour. Images strike like symbols in a storybook, visual ideas come in with the whisper of once-told tales, and he sets forth to brilliantly transmute these vague concepts into singularised collections based on motif. The Creative Director, Designer, and Co-Founder of the Berlin-based brand proudly presented Haderlump’s most recent collection, Ex Libris, earlier this month.
Named after bookplates, or decorative artwork that is meant to denote the owner of a book, the collection threads together themes of identity, ownership, and narrative. It chronicles a gradual shift in the fashion world angled toward a recycling of materials and personality, in the same vein as the inevitable recycling of tales in the literature world. And it widens our definition of sustainability through an enactment of this subdued bookish theme. Real sustainability is about cultural longevity, environmental awareness, and connecting with the self in a way that both shields and expresses. Ex Libris reminds us that what we wear on our bodies can act triumphantly as memoir.
Ex Libris is comprised mainly of deadstock linen, aged leather, and denim to mimic the tactility of antique books. Thematically, how do these materials carry the narrative of lived-in stories, especially as it relates to the fashion world?
The materials in Ex Libris were chosen for their tactile and emotional qualities. Each one carries a sense of history and wear, they feel lived-in, which was central to the narrative of the collection.
In the context of this collection, these materials speak to the idea of clothing as a carrier of memory. Deadstock linen might have sat unused for years, waiting to be repurposed. Aged leather holds creases and patina like a record of touch. Denim softens and fades over time, responding to the habits of the wearer. These aren’t blank materials — they have stories embedded in them. By working with them, Ex Libris frames garments as objects of personal history.
In the context of this collection, these materials speak to the idea of clothing as a carrier of memory. Deadstock linen might have sat unused for years, waiting to be repurposed. Aged leather holds creases and patina like a record of touch. Denim softens and fades over time, responding to the habits of the wearer. These aren’t blank materials — they have stories embedded in them. By working with them, Ex Libris frames garments as objects of personal history.
Growing up, were you always drawn to creating with your hands?
Yes, absolutely. I’ve always been fascinated by the process of making: watching materials transform into something entirely new. That curiosity led me early on to admire the work of artisans and manufacturers; there was something deeply compelling about their attention to detail and the way their hands translated ideas into form.
The garments in this collection are designed to be both expressive and protective, as if they are revealing and shielding the wearer at once. Where do you think this conceptual duality came from?
For us at Haderlump, it really comes down to confidence, that’s what we want our clothes to give people. But confidence doesn’t always look the same. Depending on the person or the situation, it can come from being bold and expressive, or from feeling protected and grounded. Sometimes you want to reveal something about yourself, and other times you want to hold something back and both are valid. We try to design with that in mind, creating pieces that can do both, so the wearer can decide what they need in any given moment.
It seems that many of your collections originate from a distinct visual that strikes you by chance. Aero began with a glimpse of the Berlin sky. Ex Libris was the result of an actual ex libris being randomly gifted to you by an old couple at a bar. How do you sense when you’ve found a muse worth seeing through?
I usually sense it through a kind of quiet jolt. It’s like something clicks in my chest. It’s not always logical, but there’s a visual or emotional resonance that lingers. If I find myself thinking about it again and again, it’s probably something I need to explore further.
You’ve come a long way since your debut, Phobia, which was beautifully disturbing and sought to evoke unique emotion. How has your relationship to discomfort and provocation evolved in your design approach since then?
Absolutely, the collection Phobia that you reference was intentionally raw and experimental.
Our Co-founder and CEO Julius Weissenborn and I created it during our graduation from fashion school, and it was really a deep dive into the emotional world of phobias; like the visceral discomfort people feel around things like insects. It was a time of exploration, where we could freely experiment with the extremes of what fashion can evoke emotionally.
Since then, our approach has evolved. With Haderlump, we’ve moved away from that kind of deliberate discomfort — not because we’ve abandoned provocation altogether, but because we’ve come to understand the brand more clearly. Designing for a label brings new parameters: wearability, identity, and commercial viability naturally become part of the process. We’re still interested in pushing boundaries, but we now do so in ways that feel truer to Haderlump’s DNA and mindful of our audience.
Our Co-founder and CEO Julius Weissenborn and I created it during our graduation from fashion school, and it was really a deep dive into the emotional world of phobias; like the visceral discomfort people feel around things like insects. It was a time of exploration, where we could freely experiment with the extremes of what fashion can evoke emotionally.
Since then, our approach has evolved. With Haderlump, we’ve moved away from that kind of deliberate discomfort — not because we’ve abandoned provocation altogether, but because we’ve come to understand the brand more clearly. Designing for a label brings new parameters: wearability, identity, and commercial viability naturally become part of the process. We’re still interested in pushing boundaries, but we now do so in ways that feel truer to Haderlump’s DNA and mindful of our audience.
In your work, is beauty the intention or a by-product?
For us, it’s often less about chasing a conventional idea of beauty and more about working with what’s in front of us. We tend to think in silhouettes, and fashion, to me, is always a search for solutions — how to bring the best out of an idea. In that sense, even things that aren’t traditionally considered beautiful can still hold a strong aesthetic or emotional value.
So I’d say it’s a bit of both. Of course, there’s an intention, we want people to feel confident and empowered in what they wear. But beauty also happens in unexpected places, sometimes where we didn’t plan it. That’s the magic of the process: you’re surprised by moments of beauty that emerge along the way, almost as by-products of trying to solve other design challenges.
So I’d say it’s a bit of both. Of course, there’s an intention, we want people to feel confident and empowered in what they wear. But beauty also happens in unexpected places, sometimes where we didn’t plan it. That’s the magic of the process: you’re surprised by moments of beauty that emerge along the way, almost as by-products of trying to solve other design challenges.
When creating your brand, you chose the name Haderlump for its impression on you sonically. How does this reflect your design philosophy?
The name Haderlump struck us first by sound — it’s coarse, almost clumsy, yet oddly elegant.
But beyond that, its meaning a rag picker felt deeply aligned with our design philosophy. It’s about finding value in what others discard. That idea of reclaiming and reimagining lies at the heart of Haderlump.
In fashion, we’re constantly confronted with excess and waste. Haderlump embraces the overlooked, such as deadstock fabrics, that we use to make our collections. Like a modern day rag picker, the brand operates within limits, finding potential where it might not be obvious.
But beyond that, its meaning a rag picker felt deeply aligned with our design philosophy. It’s about finding value in what others discard. That idea of reclaiming and reimagining lies at the heart of Haderlump.
In fashion, we’re constantly confronted with excess and waste. Haderlump embraces the overlooked, such as deadstock fabrics, that we use to make our collections. Like a modern day rag picker, the brand operates within limits, finding potential where it might not be obvious.
This runway took place at Haus der Visionäre, featuring music that moved with the models. What did this untraditional element allow you to express about Ex Libris?
The choice to have music follow each model, activating only from the speaker nearest to them, was a way to give each look its own sonic signature, almost like stamping a presence into the space. Just as an Ex Libris personalises a book, the models left behind a subtle trace of their presence.
What does true sustainability mean for Haderlump, in terms of both environmental and cultural longevity?
Environmentally, it means working within the existing. We prioritise deadstock fabrics, vintage textiles, and found materials — not only to reduce waste, but to challenge the notion that newness equals value. Every garment is made in small runs or as one-offs, ensuring nothing is produced without purpose. It’s a slower, more deliberate approach.
Culturally, sustainability is reflected in our commitment to classic cuts and refined tailoring. These elements are central to the identity of the brand. We design garments that hold their shape and relevance over time, independent of seasonal trends. The goal is to build a wardrobe with permanence, consisting of pieces without a timestamp.
Culturally, sustainability is reflected in our commitment to classic cuts and refined tailoring. These elements are central to the identity of the brand. We design garments that hold their shape and relevance over time, independent of seasonal trends. The goal is to build a wardrobe with permanence, consisting of pieces without a timestamp.
