Table of Contents

1. Key Highlights:
2. Introduction
3. Richemont’s “A Bunch of Designers”: strategic backing with practical outcomes
4. Liwen Liang: ceramics, armor and the migration from exhibition pieces to accessories
5. Sandra Jao: black as structure, Japanese technical input and rethinking “unglamorous” materials
6. Brais Albor: tailoring for tall bodies, inclusivity beyond stereotype and the commercial hurdle of fit
7. Merle Breuker and The Lasting: modular fashion, deadstock fabrics and a redesign of the fashion calendar
8. Caterina Moro: textile research, “responsible” fashion and storytelling through plant motifs
9. Manon Marcelot: from the farm to the atelier—reframing leather through rural craft
10. The AZ Academy and the role of education in spanning craft and commerce
11. Sustainability and material choices: deadstock, recycled textiles and longevity as design tenets
12. Scaling up: production pathways, pricing strategies and distribution channels
13. Craftsmanship as brand currency: the return of the hand-made and the logic of slow production
14. Industry implications: what the Richemont programme signals for fashion’s next phase
15. From pop-up lessons to practical next steps: how designers plan to translate exposure into growth
16. Comparative context: how this activation relates to other talent development initiatives
17. What buyers and consumers should look for: markers of a label’s readiness
18. The cultural value of programmatic support: preserving craft and diversifying design voices
19. Challenges and risks: maintaining autonomy, ensuring sustainability and navigating market expectations
20. Looking ahead: potential trajectories for the participating designers
21. FAQ

Key Highlights:

• Richemont’s inaugural “A Bunch of Designers” activation at Paris Fashion Week puts six AZ Academy graduates on a commercial stage, pairing creative experimentation with industry know-how and supply-chain access.
• The six designers—Liwen Liang, Sandra Jao, Brais Albor, Merle Breuker, Caterina Moro and Manon Marcelot—showcase distinct approaches to materials, modularity and responsible production, from ceramic-clad garments to deadstock leather accessories.
• The programme illuminates a wider industry shift: major luxury groups are shifting from patronage to practical capacity-building, helping emerging labels translate studio concepts into scalable products without sacrificing craft.

Introduction

Paris Fashion Week stages spectacle and commerce in equal measure. This season, a Swiss luxury house reframed the role of a fashion week activation: Richemont used the Marais as an experimental showroom and a distribution testbed. At the Heureux les Curieux boutique, the group installed a pop-up that ran from September 30 to October 17 and presented work by six graduates of the AZ Academy. The collective—tied together by a shared mix of technical curiosity, craft-driven practices and an eye to commercial viability—offers a snapshot of how emerging design is reconfiguring itself under pressure from sustainability demands, new retail formats and the realities of production.

What sets this activation apart is not only the variety of the work on view but the pragmatic support behind it. Richemont’s programme matched the designers with resources that typically remain out of reach for nascent labels: manufacturing contacts, guidance on distribution strategies and visibility among buyers who can move a brand from one-off exhibitions to shelves. The result is a compact study in how creativity and commerce can be aligned without diluting either. The projects on display signal immediate consumer possibilities—accessories, modular outerwear, versatile unisex pieces—and also highlight the tougher questions every emerging label must answer: how to scale ethically, how to select materials responsibly, and how to build a business around craft.

This article examines the designers selected for Richemont’s programme, unpacks the material and conceptual innovations they present, and situates the activation in broader industry trends. It considers what support from a major luxury group means for designer development and for the future of a market that is increasingly attentive to provenance, longevity and the craft behind the object.

Richemont’s “A Bunch of Designers”: strategic backing with practical outcomes

Richemont’s move into designer incubation reflects an evolution in how luxury conglomerates engage with talent. Investment in young designers is not new—industry prizes and incubators have long offered visibility—but Richemont’s activation emphasizes operational uplift. The company is channeling relationships with manufacturers, component suppliers and distribution partners into direct support for designers who already show promise but lack the infrastructure to commercialize ideas.

The pop-up at Heureux les Curieux functioned as a curated laboratory. It served three purposes simultaneously: a public-facing retail environment to test demand; a presentation space where production techniques and finished pieces could be appreciated up close; and a networking hub where connections with craftspeople and buyers can begin. That combination is crucial. Creativity alone rarely yields a viable business; conversely, a focus solely on profitability can dilute the design intelligence that differentiates a label.

Richemont’s status as a multi-brand group—home to names across jewellery, watches and leather goods—provides a set of levers not available to independent start-ups. Access to component makers (zippers, hardware, technical textiles), contacts within specialty ateliers, and knowledge about international retail and wholesale channels were all offered to the designers. The immediate benefit is tactical: designers can better estimate unit costs, lead times and retail price points. The strategic payoff is longer-term: relationships formed through the programme can anchor future production cycles and ensure quality control as a brand scales.

This deployment of corporate resources raises a larger question about cultural stewardship. Luxury houses risk being accused of absorbing indie creativity for brand refreshment. Richemont’s approach avoids that critique by emphasizing empowerment: the programme focuses on the designers’ original voices and seeks to help them translate those voices into sustainable business models. The designers involved speak of access and gratitude; they describe how the programme opened doors to manufacturers and clients that would otherwise remain closed. For industry observers, this signals a productive model—one that pairs corporate infrastructure with the autonomy of designers rather than subsuming them.

Liwen Liang: ceramics, armor and the migration from exhibition pieces to accessories

Liwen Liang’s work is among the most formally arresting on view. Raised in a family steeped in ceramics, Liang began to explore how the rigid logic of ceramic surfaces might inform garments. During the pandemic, he conceived of ceramic-clad clothing inspired by historic armor—specifically, the layered protection of ancient military wear. The technical challenge was considerable: ceramics are brittle and heavy, and integrating them into textile constructions requires solutions that balance flexibility, weight and wearability.

Liang’s solution was incremental and material-specific. He developed pieces that use 0.3-millimeter-thick ceramic tiles affixed to leather substrates. The tiles vary in color from anthracite to gold; they perform visually like scales while retaining a degree of pliability because of the thinness of the ceramic and the structural support provided by Italian, French or Chinese leathers. The results include skirts, dresses, tunics and bralettes whose reflective surfaces transform with light and movement.

The story of these objects matters in two ways. Aesthetic innovation: Liang translates a material not typically associated with clothing into wearable forms that foreground surface and silhouette. Commercial logic: after several years of experimentation and media attention, he plans to pivot toward accessories—handbags in particular—where the balance between ornament and function is easier to calibrate for buyers. Accessories offer a lower barrier to entry than ready-to-wear and a clearer pricing rationale for consumers who seek artisanal distinction in smaller-ticket categories. Liang’s prior collaboration dressing figurines for Miniso demonstrates how ceramics-inspired design can translate to consumer products beyond the runway or the gallery.

Comparative precedent exists. Designers such as Iris van Herpen have long pushed the boundaries of material experimentation through 3D printing and other techniques, but Liang’s approach stands out for its grounding in familial craft and in traditional ceramic making. That tether to a craft lineage strengthens his credibility in both artisanal and commercial contexts.

The move toward accessories also responds to market realities. Luxury consumers often enter a label via a distinctive bag or accessory before committing to higher-priced garments. Accessories act as high-visibility calling cards. For Liang, the support from Richemont will be useful in sourcing hardware, identifying production partners capable of handling delicate tile applications, and testing price points in a controlled retail environment.

Sandra Jao: black as structure, Japanese technical input and rethinking “unglamorous” materials

Sandra Jao’s aesthetic is defined by a single, deliberate palette: black. The monochromatic focus functions as a laboratory for shape and texture. Jao’s training at Bunka Fashion College brought early exposure to Japanese technical suppliers such as YKK—an encounter that left an imprint on her practice. Her work blends Italian craftsmanship with Japanese engineering, employing unconventional inspirations: umbrellas, fishermen’s ropes and soaked fabrics.

The resulting pieces are sculptural and often architectural. One skirt reads like an umbrella without its frame—volume and arc implied through construction rather than skeletal supports. A jacket constructed from tubes filled with insulating foam becomes both garment and soft sculpture; the fill material provides silhouette without heavy hardware. These experimental forms emphasize the primacy of structure and detail over surface decoration.

Jao’s interest in “unglamorous things” is a design strategy that has two strengths. First, it reveals potential in everyday objects that others overlook. Second, by focusing on form and material integrity, Jao produces garments that project craftsmanship irrespective of color or logo. Her approach aligns with contemporary consumer interest in meaningful design cues—items that tell a story through construction and utility rather than branding.

From a commercial viewpoint, black has an advantage: it reads as versatile and immediately wearable. Jao’s sculptures can bridge art and commerce by adapting structural experiments into versions optimized for production. Richemont’s support helps facilitate that translation: suppliers who understand foam fills, tubing and technical seams are not universally available, and sourcing such expertise is critical to moving from sample making to small-batch production.

Her gratitude for the programme is direct. As she notes, access to resources and networks makes the difference between a prototype and a product. The capacity to find the right partners—factories that can replicate her techniques, component suppliers who can supply custom zips or foam cores—is what turns an atelier conversation into a brand proposition.

Brais Albor: tailoring for tall bodies, inclusivity beyond stereotype and the commercial hurdle of fit

Brais Albor’s project confronts an often-overlooked market gap: stylish, well-fitting luxury clothing for tall men. Albor, originally from Galicia, builds on the imposing silhouettes of his homeland but intentionally redirects them away from reductive macho tropes. He merges Italian semi-bespoke tailoring with intimate categories—underwear and beachwear—produced by French manufacturer Chantelle. The juxtaposition of sartorial formality and engineered underwear speaks to a broader strategy: build a wardrobe ecosystem where silhouette coherence matters, from top layer to base layer.

The technical and commercial challenge is straightforward but arduous: fit. Developing patterns and grading systems that accommodate a broader range of heights requires additional development work and higher sampling costs. For his initial commercial launch, Albor faced practical obstacles in finding plus-size and tall models—an industry-wide difficulty that complicates both product development and marketing imagery.

Albor’s project underscores a recurring tension: niche needs often lack scale, yet that scarcity can also be the basis for differentiation. Tall consumers, and indeed many other underrepresented body types, are underserved by mainstream brands. Offering a focused, well-made wardrobe that respects proportion and comfort is a defensible market position. The partnership with Chantelle is tactical: bringing in an established manufacturer for underwear and beachwear creates immediate product quality and supply advantages.

Designers who address specific anthropometric demands must navigate cost structures carefully. Larger or longer garments mean more material costs and potentially different logistics for packaging and shipping. Richemont’s advisory support helps in estimating these variables and determining retail price points that reflect both the specialized fit and the premium positioning Albor desires.

Albor’s participation in events such as the Hyères Festival amplifies visibility. Exposure at festivals and design competitions provides credibility and can be leveraged in negotiations with retailers who appreciate the narrative around underserved clientele.

Merle Breuker and The Lasting: modular fashion, deadstock fabrics and a redesign of the fashion calendar

Merle Breuker’s label, The Lasting, is explicitly experimental and purposefully anti-calendar. Her work proposes garments designed for longevity and adaptability rather than seasonally driven obsolescence. Drawing from costume design and a deep personal practice—she sews 80 percent of her pieces herself on her grandmother’s sewing machine—Breuker emphasizes craftsmanship and a low-volume approach.

Her unisex collection borrows men’s patterning and employs European deadstock fabrics. The central design idea is modularity: garments can be reinvented through simple mechanical changes—button reconfigurations and detachable elements that alter silhouette and function. A tailored jacket can be shortened, paired with a detachable skirt, or reconfigured to suit different body types and styling preferences. This kind of transformable clothing answers two market impulses: a desire for multifunctional wardrobes and the demand for pieces that resist seasonal turnover.

Commercially, modularity offers intriguing efficiencies. One garment that performs multiple functions reduces the pressure to expand product assortments while providing value to a consumer seeking investment pieces. The challenge lies in execution: hinges, fastenings and construction must be robust enough to handle repeated reconfiguration without appearing improvised. Deadstock fabrics add another layer of complexity: limited yardage constrains replication and can create scarcity, which is both a marketing asset and a production hazard.

Breuker’s practice exemplifies a broader move among designers who reject rapid seasonal churn and instead aim for all-season relevance. That approach resonates with consumers who prioritize sustainability and long-term value. Richemont’s program can assist by connecting designers with production partners experienced in low-volume, high-quality manufacturing and by advising on inventory strategies that capitalize on modularity rather than traditional SKU proliferation.

Caterina Moro: textile research, “responsible” fashion and storytelling through plant motifs

Caterina Moro frames her work around the premise that nature remains the ultimate designer. Her practice blends textile research with direct references to living systems, seeking to translate botanical structures into garments. That sensibility is literalized in printed silks derived from scanned plant motifs; it is also conceptualized in garments whose cuts and transformations echo biological structures—vein patterns forming rib-like motifs, hems converting into skirts.

Moro’s book, Green Dressing, expands her practice into a manifesto: she advocates for “responsible” fashion rather than the catch-all umbrella of sustainability. Responsible design for Moro entails waste-free patterning, local manufacturing to preserve regional know-how and careful material selection. Her limited-edition pieces are produced in Italy and use fabrics such as water-repellent technical wool, recycled nylon and silk-paper blends.

Designers who foreground textile innovation face questions from both consumers and industry partners. Consumers want to understand the benefits of small-batch production and technical materials; retailers and manufacturers want reliable supply and consistent quality. Moro’s placement within Richemont’s programme addresses both sides. The group’s network can connect her with mills that produce technical wools and with printing houses able to translate botanical scans into repeatable textile patterns.

Her work illustrates an important point about responsible design: technical performance, such as water repellency, need not be antithetical to craft-driven patterns and limited runs. This is an important narrative for consumers who equate responsibility with utility as much as with provenance.

Manon Marcelot: from the farm to the atelier—reframing leather through rural craft

Manon Marcelot’s leatherwork draws a direct line from her upbringing on cattle farms in the Creuse to a contemporary interpretation of rural equipment. Her pieces are narrative objects: the ‘Auge’ bag evokes drinking troughs; a clog-inspired design taps wooden tooling metaphors; the ‘Sonnaille’ bag borrows bell-shaped silhouettes and double-zip detailing from cattle workwear. Marcelot’s palette and reference points steer clear of pastiche; instead, she reframes the functional geometry of rural life as refined accessories.

Her material strategy is anchored in luxury deadstock leather sourced from houses such as Delvaux. Using deadstock supplies is a practical sustainability choice: it reduces waste and delivers material quality while respecting existing supply lines. Marcelot produces most pieces herself, maintaining a close link between conception and execution. That hands-on practice yields higher costs per unit but also ensures a level of finish that speaks to collectors and discerning buyers.

The challenge for artisans like Marcelot is scale. Leatherworking is labor-intensive, and limited production constrains wholesale growth. Here, the Richemont programme offers an operational advantage: access to workshops capable of expanding production with respect for workmanship and quality. It also provides market intelligence about accessory pricing and the pathways through which a small leather label can move from atelier clientele to select retail partners.

Marcelot’s work also highlights how cultural and familial histories create unique brand identities. Buyers increasingly prize stories that connect a product to a lived lineage. Leather goods rooted in agrarian reference points are distinct from city-centric luxury narratives; that difference can become a competitive edge in a crowded accessory market.

The AZ Academy and the role of education in spanning craft and commerce

AZ Academy emerges in this activation as more than an incubator of craft; it’s a nexus where design training meets commercial reality. The selected designers share a common assessment: the academy taught them the technical languages and the program exposed them to production realities. For many young designers, the transition from student work to commercial proposition is perilous. Academic projects prioritize concept and execution; real-world brands must also master sourcing, pricing, inventory, and distribution.

The AZ Academy’s contribution is twofold. Pedagogically, it instills a disciplined approach to technique and concept. Practically, it seems to maintain industry connections that channel graduates toward programmes like Richemont’s. These connections matter: workshops, component suppliers and manufacturing partners are relationship businesses. Designers who learn early how to navigate these networks stand a better chance of sustaining creative practices.

Institutions such as Bunka in Tokyo or Parsons in New York have historically functioned as talent pipelines. AZ Academy’s linkage to Richemont provides a newer model—close alignment with a corporate partner that can convert academic validation into marketplace testbeds. For the designers, that means not only exposure but concrete pathways for scaling.

Sustainability and material choices: deadstock, recycled textiles and longevity as design tenets

Across the six designers, material choices form a throughline. Deadstock leather, recycled nylon, technical wool and ceramic tiles recur as deliberate choices rather than aesthetic whims. Those selections reflect a shift in the conditions for new labels: sustainability has moved from a marketing claim to a design constraint and a creative provocation.

Deadstock usage is especially prevalent. Designers such as Marcelot and Breuker use deadstock to reduce waste and to align with consumers who value the circularity of materials. Deadstock requires agility: limited yardage demands smaller runs and more creative patterning. That scarcity can be turned into an asset—limited series create desirability—but it complicates inventory management and long-term planning.

Recycled and technical textiles, as seen in Moro’s work, answer functional needs while signaling environmental intent. Recycled nylon and water-repellent wools reconcile performance and responsibility. The tradeoff remains transparency: consumers increasingly demand verifiable claims about recycled content and traceability of supply chains.

Modularity, championed by Breuker, advances sustainability by proposing fewer, more adaptable pieces. If a jacket can serve multiple roles across seasons and occasions, it reduces purchase frequency and extends product life. However, consumer adoption of modular systems depends on clear communication and user-friendly design. Fastidious construction methods must match the promise of transformability, and maintenance instructions must be straightforward to avoid the problem of modular elements falling into disrepair.

Liang’s ceramic work raises unique environmental and ethical questions. Ceramics require energy-intensive firing processes; integrating them into fashion invokes questions about repair, recyclability and lifecycle impacts. Shifting his focus toward accessories acknowledges the lifecycle challenge: smaller items can be more easily repaired, and their longer functional lives justify higher embodied energy per unit than disposable garments.

Across the board, the designers’ material choices reflect the sector’s move from ad hoc sustainability gestures to integrated design strategies. That movement is not merely ethical; it is pragmatic. Consumers who seek longevity, provenance and craftsmanship are willing to pay for pieces that meet those criteria. The design task is to translate those promises into durable construction, transparent sourcing and engaging narratives.

Scaling up: production pathways, pricing strategies and distribution channels

The jump from sample to small-batch production is fraught with technical and financial obstacles. Designers must choose between artisanal control and economies of scale. For the six designers in Richemont’s programme, the central questions are consistent: where to produce, how to price, and how to reach customers.

Sourcing partners are a critical first decision. Small leather goods benefit from workshops experienced in fine finishing; tailored garments require pattern-making and grading expertise; technical textiles demand mills with specialized capabilities. Richemont’s network provides introductions, but designers still need commercial negotiating skills. That is why business acumen matters as much as design acumen. The programme’s value lies in offering both mentorship and tangible contacts.

Pricing strategies must reflect multiple factors: material costs (especially when using deadstock or technical yarns), labor intensity, unit volumes and the positioning of the brand. Accessories allow clearer margins and shorter lead times; garments demand size grading and larger pattern runs. For this reason, several of the designers are choosing entry points—Liang with accessories, Marcelot with leather goods—that balance creative signature and commercial feasibility.

Distribution choices range from pop-up retail to direct-to-consumer e-commerce, wholesale to selected multibrand stores. The Heureux les Curieux pop-up served as a market test: it is an immediate channel to measure footfall, price acceptance and buyer interest. If a piece sells well in a curated context, it becomes easier to pitch to buyers at multibrand retailers. Wholesale provides scale but often at the cost of lower margins and higher reorder pressures.

Digital platforms offer another route. Niche labels can build audience and pre-sell made-to-order runs to minimize inventory risk. That model works particularly well for modular or customizable garments where consumers value personalization. However, digital-first approaches require investment in photography, storytelling and e-fulfillment systems—functions that are sometimes underdeveloped in early-stage studios.

Richemont’s involvement can smooth these pathways by offering advice on licensing, retail partnerships and margins. Equally important is the credibility that association brings. Buyers and press are likelier to take note when a brand receives backing from an established luxury group.

Craftsmanship as brand currency: the return of the hand-made and the logic of slow production

The designers showcased a strong commitment to craft. Breuker sews most of her work herself; Marcelot produces almost exclusively by hand. This craft intimacy reads as a form of quality assurance and storytelling—a contrast to the anonymous offshore production that dominates much of fast fashion.

Craft-based brands face a paradox. Handmaking limits scale and raises per-unit costs, yet it creates a market for unique, high-value pieces that collectors and connoisseurs prize. Growing such a brand requires deliberate choices: whether to remain a small atelier label, to license production selectively, or to partner with heritage workshops that can maintain standards at higher volumes.

The market for artisanal products is mature in several sectors—leather goods, small-batch knitwear, and bespoke tailoring. Consumers who buy into craft-based brands expect narrative, traceability and aftercare. Designers can leverage that expectation by offering repair services, customization and long-term guarantees. These services align with sustainability claims and deepen customer relationships.

There is also an educational dimension. Buyers sometimes struggle to value the labor-intensive processes behind a high price. Richemont’s pop-up environment allowed potential customers to see and touch the work, an effective way of communicating the labor and skill embedded in each piece. That kind of direct encounter—something that high-quality photography and e-commerce copy struggle to reproduce—remains a potent sales tool for craft-led designers.

Industry implications: what the Richemont programme signals for fashion’s next phase

Richemont’s initiative reflects a strategic recalibration across the luxury sector. Companies with deep expertise and stable supply chains are recognizing the value of investing in early-stage talent not merely as philanthropic outreach but as a way to diversify the creative ecosystem and to inject new perspectives into established supply networks.

This model addresses three pressing industry needs. First, it creates pipelines for talent who prioritize sustainability and craft, thereby enriching the supply of authentic, story-driven brands. Second, it offers a low-risk way for corporate partners to discover new ideas that can influence their own design departments or create future collaborations. Third, it helps mitigate a chronic problem for designers: the lack of access to production resources and commercial distribution.

Historically, prizes and competitions such as the LVMH Prize have offered visibility and cash grants. Richemont’s activation takes a slightly different tack by emphasizing hands-on facilitation: introductions to hardware suppliers, help with price modeling, and a retail testbed. If sustained, this approach could shape the market in ways that prize formats alone cannot: the emergence of a new generation of brands that are both creatively rigorous and commercially prepared.

There are caveats. Corporate involvement needs to protect creative independence and prevent young labels from becoming pipeline suppliers for larger houses. Transparency about the terms of collaboration is essential. Designers must retain their intellectual property and commercial autonomy unless they choose otherwise. From the evidence available, the AZ Academy cohort viewed Richemont’s support as enabling rather than directive. That dynamic is critical if the programme is to be judged a success.

From pop-up lessons to practical next steps: how designers plan to translate exposure into growth

The six designers used the activation to test product-market fit and to identify immediate next steps. Their plans are pragmatic and varied.

• Product focus: Several designers are narrowing their offerings to categories that promise clearer commercial traction. Liang is prioritizing accessories, Marcelot is centralizing on leather goods, and Albor is building a capsule approach that synchronizes outerwear and underwear. Narrowing reduces complexity and clarifies brand messaging.
• Production partnerships: Access to manufacturing partners was the most frequently cited benefit. Designers need workshops experienced in small-batch production and the ability to scale selectively. Richemont’s network shortened the search for those partners and provided credibility that eases negotiation.
• Pricing and margins: Determining appropriate retail pricing that reflects labor, materials and brand positioning is a technical task. The programme helped designers model costs and test price elasticity in a live retail environment.
• Branding and storytelling: Each designer is refining narrative work—how to communicate craftsmanship, material choices and responsible practices. That narrative will be deployed in product copy, press outreach and retail presentations.
• Inventory strategies: Several designers showed interest in made-to-order, limited runs and pre-order models to manage the constraints of deadstock and artisanal production. These strategies minimize waste and align inventory with confirmed demand.

These steps reflect a coherent approach to growth: reduce product complexity, secure reliable production partners, and adopt sales models that respect both scarcity and demand.

Comparative context: how this activation relates to other talent development initiatives

Luxury groups have long supported emerging talent; the LVMH Prize and similar initiatives provide funding and mentoring for designers. Richemont’s activation diverges by offering an integrated retail activation combined with production facilitation. This model is useful in that it reduces the gap between the studio and the market—a gap that prizes and grants sometimes fail to bridge.

Other corporate-supported initiatives have focused on accelerator-style programming with workshops and seminars. Richemont’s strength lies in operational introductions: access to component suppliers, workshops capable of handling special materials, and retail staging that validates price points. For designers, that combination tends to deliver more immediate commercial outcomes than funding alone.

The implication for the fashion ecosystem is that a mix of models is likely to persist. Grants and competitions remain valuable for exposure and validation, while hands-on, production-oriented programmes support the commercialization phase. Successful designers will likely seek both types of support at different points in their growth trajectories.

What buyers and consumers should look for: markers of a label’s readiness

For buyers—retail buyers, curators, or private clients—the Richemont activation provides cues on what to seek when evaluating emerging designers.

• Material provenance: Clear sourcing, especially with deadstock and recycled materials, indicates a designer taking responsibility for supply chains. Documentation and supplier transparency matter.
• Reproducibility: Can the work be replicated at the scales needed by the buyer without loss of quality? Demonstrations of pattern grading and sample-to-production workflows provide reassurance.
• Price rationale: Is the price defensible relative to materials and labor? Designers who can present cost models and margin targets are easier to work with.
• Aftercare and repair: For craft- and material-intense pieces, repairability and care instructions enhance consumer confidence.
• Narrative fidelity: Authentic stories rooted in craft, family history, or locality tend to resonate with customers—provided they are corroborated by visible quality.

For consumers, the lessons are similar: demand transparency, prioritize durability, and recognize that craft-driven products often require and deserve higher investment.

The cultural value of programmatic support: preserving craft and diversifying design voices

Beyond commercial metrics, Richemont’s activation contributes to cultural preservation. Many of the designers draw from specific material histories—ceramics, rural leatherworking, Japanese technical supply chains. Programmatic support that elevates such practices ensures that specialized crafts stay economically viable. When brands scale responsibly, they create demand that keeps ateliers and mills active.

There is also a diversity dividend. Designers working outside the canonical centers of fashion or within underrepresented identities bring fresh perspectives. Brais Albor’s focus on tall men, for instance, responds to an underserved market and expands the industry’s imagination of who fashion is for. Supporting such voices widens the market rather than narrowing it to a single demographic.

Cultural preservation and diversification are not neutered by commerce. They are amplified by it. Done well, commercial viability sustains craft and provides resources for further innovation.

Challenges and risks: maintaining autonomy, ensuring sustainability and navigating market expectations

The path forward is not without risks. Designers must navigate pressure to dilute concepts for marketability. They must avoid one-off visibility that does not convert into sustainable revenue. They must balance authenticity with the realities of unit costs and retail expectations.

Sustainability claims must be grounded. Deadstock and recycled materials are not a cure-all; certification and transparent communication are necessary to avoid greenwashing. Craft-based approaches must embed plans for repair and aftercare; otherwise, the longevity claim becomes aspirational rather than actual.

Corporate support must be careful not to subsume creative control. Agreements around production capacity, distribution and intellectual property require clarity. Designers should enter partnerships with contractual protections that preserve brand identity and future options.

Finally, market acceptance is never guaranteed. A pop-up can generate interest but turning that interest into repeat sales and lasting brand recognition depends on consistent production quality, effective storytelling and distribution that matches the brand’s values.

Looking ahead: potential trajectories for the participating designers

Each designer at the Richemont activation appears to be charting a sensible next step.

• Liwen Liang is likely to capitalize on the accessory market where his ceramic technique is most scalable and commercially defensible.
• Sandra Jao’s structural experimentation can be adapted into seasonal capsule releases that preserve her sculptural voice while offering wearable iterations.
• Brais Albor’s niche focus on tall men could become a robust direct-to-consumer proposition if paired with made-to-measure services and clear size guidance.
• Merle Breuker’s modular pieces could align with subscription or pre-order models that emphasize long-term wearability rather than seasonal turnover.
• Caterina Moro’s textile research and book-rooted narrative can underpin limited-edition collections that pair technical performance with botanical storytelling.
• Manon Marcelot can scale selectively by partnering with small workshops that honor hand-finishing while increasing output for wholesale placements.

All of these trajectories depend on disciplined business practices, consistent production quality and the ability to communicate value to customers. The Richemont activation has given them a substantive head start.

FAQ

Q: What is Richemont’s “A Bunch of Designers” programme? A: It is a Richemont initiative to support emerging designers from the AZ Academy by offering a combination of visibility, production introductions and retail testing. The programme’s first activation was a pop-up at the Heureux les Curieux boutique in Paris that showcased six designers and ran from September 30 to October 17.

Q: Who are the six designers involved and what are their signature approaches? A: The cohort includes Liwen Liang (ceramic-clad garments moving toward accessories), Sandra Jao (sculptural, all-black forms informed by Japanese technical inputs), Brais Albor (tailoring and wardrobe solutions for tall men), Merle Breuker (The Lasting—modular, deadstock-based unisex pieces), Caterina Moro (textile research and nature-inspired “responsible” fashion), and Manon Marcelot (artisan leatherwork rooted in rural references and deadstock leather).

Q: How does the programme help designers practically? A: Richemont provides introductions to suppliers, manufacturers and buyers, helps designers model pricing and production costs, and offers a commercial testbed through a curated pop-up. This support reduces the time and resources designers typically need to transition from studio samples to market-ready products.

Q: Are the designers giving up creative control by participating? A: According to the designers, the programme functions as facilitation and access rather than creative direction. The supporting model emphasized preserving designers’ voices while helping them navigate manufacturing and distribution.

Q: How do the designers address sustainability? A: Strategies include using deadstock leather and fabrics, recycled textiles, modular designs that extend the life of garments, local manufacturing, and technical materials chosen for longevity. Each designer applies different tactics that align with their material and craft logics.

Q: Will these designers be available for purchase beyond the pop-up? A: Some designers are positioning product lines for direct-to-consumer channels, limited wholesale placements and made-to-order strategies. The pop-up served as a market test and a point of contact for buyers interested in carrying their work.

Q: How does this activation compare with other industry initiatives? A: Unlike prize-based programmes that mainly offer cash and visibility, Richemont’s activation emphasizes operational support—production introductions, component sourcing, and a retail testing environment. This approach accelerates commercialization alongside creative development.

Q: What should buyers and consumers look for when assessing emerging designers from programmes like this? A: Pay attention to material provenance, reproducibility, clear pricing rationales, aftercare options, and narrative authenticity. These markers indicate whether a brand is prepared for wholesale relationships and long-term consumer engagement.

Q: What are the risks of corporate-backed development programmes? A: Risks include potential loss of creative autonomy, pressure to scale unsustainably, and misalignment between artisanal production and commercial demands. Clear contractual terms and a focus on preserving design identity mitigate these risks.

Q: Will this kind of corporate support shape the future of fashion? A: If programmes like Richemont’s continue, they will likely diversify the market by enabling more craft-driven, sustainability-minded labels to reach consumers. The long-term effect will depend on how partnerships balance commercial scaling with preservation of creative and material integrity.

Richemont’s Paris activation made visible a practical model for translating studio innovation into market-tested products. The six designers selected from AZ Academy demonstrate that creativity, when paired with operational support and clear material strategies, can yield products with both cultural resonance and commercial potential. The industry will watch closely to see whether such programmes produce lasting brands or remain episodic showcases. For now, the designers’ work offers a promising blueprint: combine craft, material intelligence and business rigor, and the runway becomes an entry point rather than an endpoint.