The Disorientation of a Fashion Designer

In the first few years—or even the first decade—of a creative career,

every designer feels lost.

Of course, there are exceptions:

some people seem certain from the very beginning.

But often, that certainty comes from having an idol—

a figure so perfect, so untouchable,

that following them feels like purpose itself.

He was flawless, towering, the saint of our industry.

I followed without question,

dreaming of one day working with his same calm confidence,

his same precision of hand.

Even as an ordinary designer,

working under his shadow felt meaningful enough.

But what happens when the idol collapses?

He dies.

Or worse, he doesn’t die—

he just turns out to be ordinary.

Maybe he harasses people.

Maybe he’s a racist.

Maybe he’s just a coward,

or an image built from other people’s labor.

And then the questions start:

Was I ever really passionate about this job?

Or was I simply obeying someone else’s script?

Is this “career” an act of love—or submission?

Most “icons” of fashion were invented by brands anyway.

Some are masters of storytelling, not design.

Still, it takes real endurance to become that kind of myth.

Many who devote their lives to a craft

do so because solitude feels safer than the world.

A few gain fame and fortune;

the rest just quietly keep working—

finding meaning in the repetition of what they love.