London designer Kai Ghattaura debuted his collection at a medieval fantasy rave

According to Kai Ghattaura, London Fashion Week has lost its footing, and designers are packing their bags for Paris as soon as they make it big. But as a friend of the crew who run the cutting-edge rave Genesys, Kai knows that London’s nightlife is burgeoning, with new club nights Post Party, EU:RE, and Kneeedrop also supporting homegrown talent in fashion and music. So for an off-schedule designer to make their mark in London, holding a fashion show-cum-rave isn’t a bad idea.

Last weekend, Kai Ghattaura staged his debut menswear show in collaboration with his friends at Genesys, who have booked the likes of Danny L Harle, Yung Sherman and Oli XL for their parties and merged strobe-lit raves with boxing matches. Built in three months in the summer between Kai’s Masters degree at CSM, the collection has been made with a minimal budget. When I pop by the studio space above a local manufacturing factory in Forest Gate, East London, there’s an overflowing bowl of cigarette butts outside indicating the mounting pressure. Inside the room, machines are whirring and upbeat, silly hardcore is playing from someone’s phone.

Kai had ten interns working on the collection, plus set designers, a stylist, a casting director, and a prosthetics artist for the show. And they’re all working for free. Why? ​“By going out and partying I met everyone who’s contributed,” he says. ​“They’re all friends. And this project gives them a chance to experiment with their own ideas. The interns have as much chance to get their work in the collection as I do.” Officially scheduled three days a week, the team members often also show up for the Friday night drinks. ​“We get fucked up and then come back hungover, some of what happened last night inspiring what we make today,” Kai explains. ​“Anyone that only works, their work has absolutely no life to it.”

Beer in hand, I flip through rails: zip-up jackets with shoe trees hanging from dirt-encrusted shoulders; old wetsuits reworked into hoodies; a cap topped with an animal skull melting into a trailing veil. ​“We’ve picked shit up off the streets,” Kai says, ​“Traid let us raid their pile of unsellable garments, Corvidae donated offcuts and funded the metal props.” It’s ​‘texturing week’ when I visit, and interns are rubbing flour and seasonings into fabric for colour. Ragged wings take shape from folding chair legs. Kai says he loves preexisting materials because they already have a life. ​“My favourite trousers are the ones I’ve worn for four years straight. The rips, the fading, the stains, the scuffs are what I like.”

The main statement of the show is to prove what’s possible with no big budget, an unusual attempt in fashion where designers often spend staggering amounts on a single show. ​“The whole scene is fucked, it’s just pay to win,” he argues. ​“Everything’s so boring there’s nowhere any of us even want to work.” He has plenty of hot takes, which he reels off with excitable energy. ​“Fashion is too stupid to take seriously,” he grins. ​“At the end of the day you’re just making clothes.” His references are a bizarre blend of brainrot, gaming and fairytales.

He calls memes the ​“epitome of contemporary,” showing me a ​‘fell for it again’ badge he’s recreated and a cap with a sign sticking out reading ​‘Gyatt Aura’ – pulled from the terminally online Gen Alpha lingo. The fantasy gaming world also inspires him. ​“I don’t think many brands have tried hard enough to make cosplaying cool. We see so many memes of ​‘what boys wear’ versus ​‘what boys actually want to wear,’” he says, mentioning the character creation screen on the Dark Souls, where players curate their mediaeval costumes. ​“There’s a huge gap for people who want to dress like that.”

Kai’s work has darker undertones. He researched mythology from his Indian heritage, and came across the Agori monastic order, who smear cremation ashes on their bodies. He’s also inspired by Arthur Rackham’s early 19^th Century illustrations of mischievous forest creatures from the Grimms’ fairytales. He calls his work ​“fairy tale writing, but using clothes as the medium.”

At Kai’s show, which takes place at the North London industrial venue Archives, he debuts his collection entitled A Scattered Dream. There’s an expectant crowd of 20-something creatives and students, clad in leather, animal prints, bikinis and skinny jeans, some with pierced eyebrows and cross necklaces. They push forward for front row at the runway which stretches out, reaching and encircling the decks in the middle of the room, anticipatory. Backstage, all is chaos.

The music is provided by Mowalola, Rick Owens collaborator Salvia and melodic trance producer Dark0. The soundtrack is experimental, dark, and heady; all Genesys hallmarks. One attendee likens it to stepping into a nightclub inside a video game.

On the makeshift runway, three models glide out, visions in white, accompanied by entrancing music. They’re the womenswear looks, created by Fin Forsyth, who is the head of the female looks for Kai’s collection. Childlike and dreamlike, they look like they’ve stepped out of The Little Prince. One model holds a clock with its numbers spilling up over her arms and shoulders. As they walk off stage the mood switches, the music becomes heavier, a more hardcore sound.

Out stomp the menswear pieces: distressed bombers, fur-hemmed breeches, neon slips, torn up satchels. The faces are bruised, blotchy, dirt-streaked. The Agori appear, covered in white clay, ropes circle their waists, riling up the crowd, howling and jumping into the audience below. The lines between fashion show and rave blur, they’re dancing with the ravers, uninhibited. The door of the set piece at the base of the runway opens, it’s a steampunk style cryogenic chamber from which a model crawls out, wires sprouting from his chest. The wings beat into the dusty air.

Rusted swords, gauntlets, and shields come later, all paired with these ragtag, weathered, but wearable clothes. A smoking neon backpack in the shape of a Lost Mary – apparently ​‘bubonic plague’ flavoured – makes its entrance before the final line-up. But instead of retreating backstage, the models stay for a rave. Kai runs down the runway, jumps behind the DJ decks, and kicks off a hardcore set. The whole design team follows, the crowd jump onto the runway with the models, a writhing mass of bodies ensues. It’s a scene that’s probably too chaotic for the luxury fashion industry. But for the small crowd who experienced it, A Scattered Dream will long haunt their memories.

Out stomp the menswear pieces: distressed bombers, fur-hemmed breeches, neon slips, torn up satchels. The faces are bruised, blotchy, dirt-streaked. The Agori appear, covered in white clay, ropes circle their waists, riling up the crowd, howling and jumping into the audience below. The lines between fashion show and rave blur, they’re dancing with the ravers, uninhibited. The door of the set piece at the base of the runway opens, it’s a steampunk style cryogenic chamber from which a model crawls out, wires sprouting from his chest. The wings beat into the dusty air.

Rusted swords, gauntlets, and shields come later, all paired with these ragtag, weathered, but wearable clothes. A smoking neon backpack in the shape of a Lost Mary – apparently​‘bubonic plague’ flavoured – makes its entrance before the final line-up. But instead of retreating backstage, the models stay for a rave. Kai runs down the runway, jumps behind the DJ decks, and kicks off a hardcore set. The whole design team follows, the crowd jump onto the runway with the models, a writhing mass of bodies ensues. It’s a scene that’s probably too chaotic for the luxury fashion industry. But for the small crowd who experienced it, A Scattered Dream will long haunt their memories.