Oscar Ouyang

It’s quite metaphoric. When you create with knitwear, you’re forming a stitch from threads, then loop after loop, building layers through pattern and structure. It’s very different from working with fabric, where you drape, create folds or pleats. Knitwear is a much slower process.
Because of that slowness, you have more time to reflect on what the next step should be. Even within a single stitch, or a small swatch, you can embed a lot of emotion. With fabric, things are more predefined. Silk, tulle, gabardine, wool, all of them already come with a texture and a function. You use thick double layer wool for coats, silk chiffon for bias cut dresses.
Knitwear, on the other hand, allows more possibility during the act of making. There’s more emotion and a more personal touch when you can read a piece through a stitch, even a mistake stitch or a bit of randomness.

Wool is a big part of our practice. This season, for Autumn/Winter 2026, we also experimented with more playful yarns, such as sparkling, tin-like yarns that feel festive and slightly silly. But usually we work with natural fibres like silk, linen, lightweight cotton, and mostly wool. For fabrics, we also primarily use wool for coats and jackets. It’s more structural.

For dusk, I would choose a dotted yarn, one where different fibres or sparkly elements are already mixed during the spinning process. Irish Donegal yarn is a good example. It comes with messy dots that feel dusty and atmospheric.
Humidity is harder to translate. It’s more abstract and closer to the sensation of moisture or a drop of water touching the skin.
Silence is less about the garment alone and more about atmosphere. It’s similar to how Rick Owens approaches sound in his shows, where the combination of space, sound, and movement creates a moment of stillness.

That tension gives me an edge. It allows me to look at things from both perspectives. Culturally, the way people dress and perceive fashion in China is very different from London. At the same time, globalisation has created a shared idea of cool. Certain cultural references are now understood almost everywhere. The challenge is finding common ground between cultures and communicating across them. I also return to Asia often. I grew up mostly in Beijing, but my family is from different parts of China and Singapore. Every visit connects me to a different place.

I often think about the summer after I graduated, before the brand fully took off. We went to a lot of festivals during that time. I imagine that memory as a simple cotton piece, like a T-shirt or tank top you’d wear to a festival, or a small knitted piece that fits into that context. Something casual and worn-in.

Limitations create a grounded, down-to-earth feeling. There’s a sense of craftsmanship and honesty. It gives a timeless, slightly vintage quality, suggesting that a piece should last, be preserved, worn, and passed on. That’s a narrative some fashion pieces don’t always communicate.

I do. Right now, we’re very focused on menswear, and introducing softness feels important. Showing tenderness can also be a form of strength. That softer approach to masculinity is something I find empowering, and I think it’s what menswear needs right now.

The cycle is incredibly fast. You think you’re ready, and then you realise how quickly everything moves. Our last show was in September, and we’re already deep into preparing the next one. It really teaches you about timing, endurance, and sustainability.

I would choose touch. I imagine the feeling of hay, standing in a field surrounded by rolled hay. There’s roughness, but also peace and quiet. That balance between softness and masculinity, calm and rawness, is something I’d want the collection to embody.