Originality: Beyond the Algorithm
Written by Lowri Ashton
Originality beyond the Algorithm: What Fashion’s Creativity Crisis Can Learn from Leigh Bowery
Is creativity dead? It’s the ultimate question—one that looms over an industry increasingly trapped in its own cyclical nature. Fashion operates in predictable loops, with hemlines rising and falling, silhouettes expanding and contracting, and past decades endlessly revived. Vogue declares the ‘70s blouse the next seasonal staple, while millennial-era trends—once scorned—are suddenly back in favour. In this relentless churn of nostalgia, where is the true disruptor?
We endlessly debate whether designers like Demna are pushing boundaries or simply toying with gimmickry. Was Pharrell’s appointment at Louis Vuitton a triumph or a misstep? The discourse rages on, but the bigger question remains: who is genuinely redefining fashion rather than recycling it? Many blame the algorithm, pointing to micro-trends that burn out (literally in landfills) before they can evolve. But the issue runs deeper. Where is the figure who doesn’t just remix the past but reinvents the future?
As a 22-year-old, I find myself yearning for an era of radical creativity in fashion that I have never actually lived through. I feel a nostalgia akin to that of my parents longing for a world before smartphones—except my nostalgia is for a time of artistic rebellion, for fashion that felt urgent, disruptive, and new. Leigh Bowery, with his uncompromising approach to dress, performance, and identity, was one of those true visionaries. His lessons feel more necessary now than ever.
A Private Viewing Turned Personal Awakening
Recently, I was invited by Gucci (through my University, but it counts) to a private viewing of the Leigh Bowery exhibition at the Tate Modern. Walking through the space, surrounded by his creations - the towering, grotesque silhouettes, to the latex masks and the unexpected bursts of sequins and tulle - I found myself struck by just how radical he remains in an age where avant-garde feels algorithmically curated. Bowery’s work still shocks, it refuses to be softened, refuses to fit neatly into any one category. And that, I realised, is precisely what we are missing today.
Bowery’s life itself was one of radical transformation. Born in Melbourne in 1961, he moved to London in the early ‘80s, quickly immersing himself in the burgeoning club scene, where he became a central figure after a short stint at Burger King. He wasn’t just a designer - he was a performance artist, provocateur and a living, breathing spectacle. His early years in London were marked by collaboration with other avant-garde artists, and he quickly became a key figure in the ‘New Romantic’ movement, with his androgynous and boundary-pushing fashion choices earning him a place as an icon of subversive style.
Bowery’s pieces were as much about rejection as they were about creation. He sought to defy beauty standards, discard conventional ideals of what fashion could be, and instead, craft garments that made viscera statements. His infamous costumes, often exaggerated, grotesque and surreal, were a stark contrast to the polished, commercialised fashion of his time - and that is exactly why they worked.
“I like the {looks} to be as strong as they are, especially now that everyone is so conversation and austere. I don't want the things I make to be merely flamboyant; that's been done before…It has to have that edge, you know, because if Im laughing at the way I’m dressing myself…what possible criticism can people make, really? If the jokes on me and I know it?”
As I stood staring at an image of Bowery’s long-time companion, Nicola Bateman, emerging from between his legs during their ‘Immaculate Conception’ performance, it struck me: not only are we drowning in an endless cycle of trends and an ever-growing mountain of ‘cores,’ but we are taking fashion far too seriously.
In today’s world, where every move is analysed, dissected and debated on social media, it's easy to forget that fashion can and should be a form of radical self-expression, not a set of capitalist codes we have to follow.
The Art of Defying Convention
Bowery understood that fashion could be more than clothing - it could be a statement, a probation, a rejection of everything we think we know about beauty. His influence on contemporary fashion is undeniable, shaping the vision of designers who embrace the theatrical and the unconventional. As Dazed notes, his bold, boundary-pushing approach can be seen in the work of Alexander McQueen, whose runway spectacles channelled a similar performative nature, and in Rick Owens, whose sculptural silhouettes echo his exaggerated forms. Charles Jeffrey Loverboy also carries Bowery’s spirit, merging club-kid energy with high fashion. His legacy remains a blueprint for those who dare to defy convention. Even their work, however striking, still operates within the framework of the fashion system - seasonal collections, runway schedules, and commercial viability.
Bowery didn’t play by those rules. His fashion was deeply personal, using art as an extension of his body. It wasn’t designed to sell, to be commodified. Today, as the industry grapples with the tension between creativity and commerce, we need figures like Bowery more than ever - artists who create for the sake of expression, not marketability. In his work, you can find dark themes, juxtaposing beauty with discomfort, questioning both aesthetic and social norms. Typically, Bowery was seen in various ruffled ‘pom-pom head’ spheres, outrageously high-heeled shoes and experimental makeup - including the infamous head drips (later becoming part of his signature look) and sex-doll lips.
As mentioned before, fashion now feels trapped in the prison of instant gratification and viral moments. Designers like Denma Gvaslia, though undeniably brilliant, often seem more focused on deconstructing and subverting familiar icons than creating something truly novel. His satirical offerings, like £1000 bin bags and mock-up crisp packets, challenge the commodification of fashion, yet they lean heavily on irony. On the other hand, Muccia Prada’s work has been argued to find the perfect balance of inspiration and creation. The SS25 collection felt new, despite drawing inspiration from the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s (statement shoulders, simple silhouettes and a sense of power). Prada’s innovation lies in the subtle subversion of classic ideas, often leveraging history to critique the present. However, it is obvious that it does not possess the same boundary-pushing energy that figures like Bowery exemplified. The space between thoughtful critique and outright rebellion has become increasingly blurred, leaving us in search if someone who can break through this stagnation with a radical vision.
Who will be fashions next disruptor?
Walking out of the Tate Modern that evening, and heading down towards an illumined shard and warm lights of the city, I found myself wondering: Who is today’s Bowery? Who is willing to break the mould, to disregard commercial appeal in favour of true creative risk-taking? The creative industry (fashion, film, art and so on) needs more than nostalgia. It needs innovation, reinvention and chaos (chaos that isn’t the switching of creative directors every week).
