Dear Shaded Viewers,
John Alexander Skelton has an unrivalled ability to draw us into the world he imagines. Though it may be rooted in the past and craft traditions, it is one that remains enlivened with whimsy and a modernised sensibility. The result is not simply a collection of garments, but an act of world-building, where fabric, cut, and process operate together to construct an environment as much as a wardrobe.
Last night, on the third floor of Dover Street Market in London, Skelton did just that again. What unfolded was less a presentation than an installation: a pared-back environment consisting of a projector, a sheet suspended as a screen, and the new collection arranged throughout the space. It may have appeared modest, almost austere, but his mastery lies in the details. At the centre of the installation was a short film, directed by Joel Kerr and shot in County Mayo, Ireland, created to accompany the Spring 2026 lookbook. Like Skelton’s most memorable projects, the film conjured a sense of ritual. The clothes emerged not merely as garments, but as characters – participants in a tableau of labour, craft, and memory.
Ireland wasn’t chosen arbitrarily. The collection reflects Skelton’s memories of his grandfather and a family trip to Mayo in the mid-1990s, interwoven with his own Irish ancestry. The landscapes, the conviviality of pub gatherings, and the openness of locals who were cast in the lookbook gave the work an unwavering sense of place. Watching the film, the clothes seemed inseparable from the environment: linen catching the softness of Irish light, water-waxed jackets echoing the damp gleam of stone, stripes recalling tailoring once worn with casual charm.
The collection itself bore his signatures: elongated coats, sculptural trousers, sober yet romantic tones. But Ireland introduced a lighter dimension: florals, linens, pale pinks and off-whites softened the severity, pushing the work toward ease and warmth. The tailoring, in particular, reflected Skelton’s interest in formality worn without rigidity — not nostalgic or rule-bound, but as a counterpoint to the dominance of comfort dressing.
This morning, when getting dressed, I reached for a skirt that fastens with five buttons down the side. A small detail, but one that lingered with me after last night. I realised how rarely I wear clothing that requires buttoning at all. Zips, hooks, elastic: all modern shortcuts that remove friction from the everyday act of dressing. With Skelton, there are no shortcuts. Fourteen buttons for a shirt, twenty if you wear the accompanying jacket, twenty-two if you make use of the pockets. The ritual of fastening becomes part of the garment itself. John not only has an addiction to labour-intensive processes in the making of his clothes – handwoven fabrics, natural dyes, artisanal cuts – but he finds a way for that labour to extend to the wearer. Dressing becomes a deliberate act.
At a time when fashion is so often about speed and instant gratification, Skelton demands slowness. He insists on process, both in how his clothes are made and how they are worn. The buttons, the layers, the weight of cloth – all reminders that clothing can still ask something of us. And in return, it can offer something enduring, something close to sacred.
