Inside ‘Reframing Heritage’.

It all begins with a banana. Or to be more precise, its skin. 

Initially, the concept seems almost unfathomable; how could a fashion exhibition be centred around what, to many of us, is essentially a piece of rubbish waiting to be tossed away? That was my first thought; however, upon taking in the entirety of ‘Reframing Heritage: New Generation Materials’, a temporary showcase in the heart of central London, everything began to make complete and utter sense. 

Samples of maiden from the banana. Leaves, fiber, tread, woolly tread, and bananas, bioplastic.

The most striking takeaway was the fact that three banana peels can produce 1m² of biomaterial, and that alone is sufficient enough to create a handbag, garment components, or even a series of accessories.

The potential of a humble banana was never something that I had considered, and I would presume I am hardly alone in that fact. Yet, within the exhibition, it acts as a prompt of circular thinking; upon entering, guests were invited to eat a banana, and towards the end, a dress made entirely from them is presented. And no, it’s not the gimmicky yellow dress you might initially imagine; it’s a gorgeous garment all on its own, though its origins make it all the more remarkable. 

Instantly, it entices you to conjure the question, why in the world are we allowing fast fashion empires to pollute the planet when the answer lies right beneath our noses (or at the bottom of our rubbish bins)?

Whilst the banana may have acted as the central theme, it was by no means the only example of ethical garment creation. In fact, the majority of pieces presented were created entirely from scratch by material designer Tasha Lapidus. No ready-made fabrics or pre-existing materials; everything began as plant-based raw matter, and through talented craftsmanship, was transformed into a beautiful piece of clothing that would not look out of place on a runway. From skirts initially produced from straw to jackets dyed with beetroot, I walked away with an understanding of how valuable these natural resources are to the fashion industry, and equally questioning why they’re not more widely utilised.

Lucy Ashburner and Tasha Lapidus.

Something else I was introduced to throughout the course of the exhibition was an age-old technique: Irish Lace. Originating in the 19th century, initially as a way to protect women from destitution during the famine, it later became a celebrated luxury worn by royalty. It was work by ‘DeLace Atelier’ that was exclusively on show, a contemporary studio founded by a mother and daughter that employs an extensive network of skilled workers. Alongside the intricate garments (which included a brown dress echoing 1920s glamour, a floor-length wedding gown, and a detailed black cardigan) were testimonies from the designers themselves, all of whom tended to be above the age of 50. 

dress and jacket (Author DeLace Atelier), Irish Lace from cotton.

It’s perhaps a misjudgment to categorise Irish Lacemaking as a dying art, though it’s certainly not bursting with popularity. In the current climate, though, that’s understandable. Brands and conglomerates favour cheap, mass-produced products, and Irish Lace acts as the complete antithesis. It’s a sad reality and something that is destroying the reputation of the industry entirely. There was once a time when people cherished their clothes, and craftsmanship was valued. The handful of pieces on display at ‘Reframing Heritage’ represent a combined 6,500 hours of manual labour. In an ultra-fast-fashion sweatshop, sources claim workers are held to gruelling quotas of 500 garments daily. Not only is this exploitative to the utmost extreme, but it also debases clothing entirely.

Unfortunately, the sad truth is that fast fashion makes sense in the modern world. With social media speeding up the trend cycle to an unattainable extent, brands are eager to pump out new clothing rapidly, and consumers are desperate to keep in style. It doesn’t have to be this way, though.

‘Reframing Heritage’ poses an idealistic idea of what the industry could look like with some consideration. Amalgamating timeless techniques with new-age biomaterials could well (and should well) be the future of fashion. Why pollute the earth when the materials to create such charming pieces are right beneath our noses? Why allow centuries of tradition to go by the wayside? 

Fashion is growing in controversy quite literally by the day. To protect not only the industry, but the planet in its entirety, this may well be the path to follow.