In an industry obsessed with gloss, Morell’s latest collection is an act of deliberate erosion. It is a study in decay, natural takeover, and the quiet aftermath of ruin. On the racks in her studio, fabrics hang heavy with hand-stitched moss, frayed edges left raw, silhouettes slowly being swallowed by green. There is no polish, no attempt to charm the eye — only the sense that nature is taking back what was once hers.
“This is not about making something beautiful,” she says, seated at a worktable scattered with scraps of faux foliage and rusted pins. “It’s about what’s left when beauty isn’t the goal anymore.” In conversation, it becomes clear that Morell is stepping into what she calls her anti-era: anti-perfection, anti-fast-fashion, anti-the-expectation that women designers should make delicate, “pretty” things.
When asked if the project is a fashion collection or a protest, she doesn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she replies, short and sharp. The work, she explains, is about decay, rebirth, rage and moss. “Moss grows where nothing else survives. I wanted to work with something that doesn’t need anyone’s permission to thrive.”
For Morell, the state of fashion has become almost comically hollow. “Everyone’s chasing clout in recycled silhouettes. Fashion’s been faking relevance for too long.” She doesn’t say it with bitterness so much as fatigue. “I’m not angry. I’m done with the bullshit. ‘Sustainability’ is just a Pinterest board for brands now. AI is pumping out ten thousand lifeless designs a second. Everyone’s just copying the next fake idea.”
Her work is not intended to please everyone, in fact, it might not please anyone. “People? Influencers in fake leather preaching ‘slow fashion’? Fast fashion brands calling sage green ‘eco’? Right…” She shakes her head. The collection, she insists, is for those who are finished with pretending. “The ones who don’t want to be pretty but real. The ones ready to burn everything down and start over.”
Understanding, she says, is optional. “Not important. I don’t design for understanding. I design for meaning.”
AI, which once fascinated her, has lost its shine. “I liked it at first. Now it’s boring. We took it too far. You can’t generate the smell of damp earth. You can’t fake the way moss feels under your fingers.”
Her inspirations are as uncompromising as the collection itself. “David Fucking Bowie,” she says, “and imagining the world after collapse. The Earth rising from ruins and using us as trellises. I wanted the clothes to look like they were worn long after the end, when the planet has moved on without us.”
Morell has always been a designer with a message, but this time the message feels final. “Probably exile next,” she laughs when asked what’s coming after the show.
The show is set for September 11th. Consider yourself invited, says the 27-year-old designer with a history of creating work rooted in meaning.