Gone are the fortress-like volumes and architectural forms that once defined Mayner’s work. In their place, garments now seem to float, descend, and wrap themselves around the body with a sense of grace that borders on the ephemeral. Shirts and jackets shed their shoulders, collapsing into fabric that whispers rather than shouts. The fit is loose, but not careless. It is intentional, precise in its defiance.
Delicate florals and gingham prints nod to vintage domestic interiors, reimagining nostalgia as a soft armor. Trousers and shorts in handkerchief cuts descend like petals from the waist. Elongated hooded parkas and pinched blazers play with volume and restraint, often held together with nothing more than a safety pin. The collection's textures, crunchy cottons, sheered wool, stretched knits layered over foam, create a tactile dialogue between skin, air, and fabric.There’s something alien in Mayner’s figures; pillbox hats and padded silhouettes recall a wardrobe assembled for another planet. Yet this collection feels deeply grounded in human warmth. These are clothes meant to shelter, not shield; to invite, not intimidate.
Perhaps most striking is Mayner’s treatment of structure, not as something to build, but to let go of. This act of “emptying” becomes a philosophy of dressing. Every drape and drop serves a purpose: to allow movement, to invite touch, to let the body breathe. It’s clothing as gesture, as vulnerability, as resistance to rigidity.