My earliest memories of engaging with fashion begin shortly after starting primary school, curating keychains for my school bag, stealing glossy magazines from our local hairdressers to cut out and collage, and obsessing over which pencilcase would best represent my style. Once I reached high school and owned my own laptop, this fascination translated into a dedicated fashion blog, Pinterest boards galore and countless hours watching makeover reality TV shows, from the mumsy positivity of Gok Wan’s Fashion Fix to the haircut-induced meltdowns of America’s Next Top Model.
Nothing, however, made me feel more connected to the fashion industry than logging on each February and September to watch pixelated livestreams of prestigious fashion week runways. While some luxury brands had already adopted the new technology for their shows, British high street giant Topshop was a trailblazer of immersive, interactive livestream experiences – thanks to an early collaboration with Google, online viewers could watch the runway unfold via Model Cams, Google+ Hangouts with designers, live YouTube feeds, and even an in-store photobooth on Oxford Street that beamed into their show’s digital window.
Topshop often blurred the line between high fashion spectacle and high street shopping, and livestreaming their shows made that world accessible to anyone with an Internet connection. For teens living far from London or Paris, watching the runway unfold in real time was a revelation: fashion suddenly felt participatory rather than distant. It wasn’t just about the clothes or the styling – it was about being part of something culturally significant, a democratisation of an industry that often seemed impossibly exclusive. That sense of inclusion and excitement is exactly what drew millennials and zillennials alike to the brand when it returned to the spotlight last weekend.
The brand’s dramatic fall from grace began in late 2020, when its parent company, Arcadia Group, collapsed into administration and shuttered every physical store, erasing the brand’s high-street presence almost overnight. In early 2021, ASOS swooped in and acquired Topshop, and its associated brands, in a deal worth around £265 million, opting not to rescue any of the brick-and-mortar stores. Over the following years, ASOS gradually phased Topshop into its digital ecosystem, but the brand remained absent from its own dedicated site until a pivotal turn in mid-2024, when ASOS sold a 75% stake to Danish retailer Bestseller through its Heartland investment arm. That partnership set the revival in motion: Topshop would relaunch its standalone e-commerce site in August 2025. To mark the moment, it would host its first runway show since 2018, staged as an open-air, see-now-buy-now extravaganza in Trafalgar Square.
On Saturday 16th August, crowds flocked to central London to capture a glimpse of the public showcase. Seats were filled with esteemed editors, influencers and famous faces – models including Adwoa Aboah and former Topshop employee Alva Claire were sat front row alongside brand ambassador Cara Delevingne, wearing garments from her newly launched collaborative capsule collection, as well as London Mayor Sadiq Khan. The display reminded the public that the brand could still command attention, if not quite the cultural sway it once held.
The runway show featured metallic maxi dresses, A-line skater skirts, and plenty of oversized tailoring. Denim played a central role, with a return of the classic Jamie jean alongside an embellished utility jumpsuit, while outerwear included faux-fur maxi coats, patchwork shearling, and bomber jackets in pony-skin and faux leather finishes.
While the runway styling highlighted certain pieces, the collection relied heavily on familiar motifs – Balenciaga, Saint Laurent, Miu Miu, and Acne inspirations were evident throughout – leaving it indistinguishable from much of today’s fast fashion. “I think they’d have been better off sourcing and reworking old Topshop bits anyway,” says sustainability activist and writer Brett Staniland. “It was one of the least cohesive collections I’ve seen. Almost nothing went well together, the tailoring was super sloppy, and there was no clear brand DNA or identity.”
If anything, the collection’s lack of individuality only reminds us of a time when Topshop’s identity was unmistakable – a clarity captured most vividly at the legendary Big Topshop on Oxford Street, which became a cultural touchstone for a generation of shoppers. “When Topshop was at its height, online wasn’t that popular yet. It was the place to experience, and spend your pocket money,” recalls cultural and creative strategist Nina Maria. “There was a significance to the brand and the experience, but not to the clothes. Was anyone loving Joni’s? Probably not. People loved the associations that came with it; the YouTubers who wore it. The experience of going to Topshop at Oxford Circus and thinking you’ve been in heaven. The significance lies in the escapism of it all.”
Built across three floors, the store revolutionised the retail experience from one of simply shopping to a place where friends would meet up and hang out, sip on an iced coffee and get their nails done, and even get piercings and tattoos. “Topshop was so important to me when I was growing up because I was always tall, and it was one of the only places that had a Tall section that was actually cool and had nice clothes,” says fashion designer and founder of Planet Soph, Sophie Nancy. “My mum and I used to bond by going to the Oxford Street Topshop during the summer holidays. I’d go to the Tall section, and then we’d go to the basement and she’d get a new pair of shoes. It was so lovely because we could go together. I think that really contributed to me having such a positive opinion of the brand because it was such a big part of my teenage years and my developing style.”
Collaborations with emerging artists at reasonable prices were so much more interesting than the soft influencer exposure of today.
Bea Isaacson
Topshop historically did more than sell clothes; it nurtured emerging talent and celebrated collaboration in ways that felt innovative for high street fashion. Notable collabs include Christopher Kane’s alligator-print t-shirt dress, Louise Gray’s club-kid sequins, and JW Anderson’s playful pinafores and printed duffel coats, all of which became wardrobe staples for trendsetters like Alexa Chung and Rihanna. My favourite? Charles Jeffrey‘s 2018 t-shirts, printed with commissioned artworks from five LGBTQIA+ artists highlighting the fight for gay rights. I still own two, and many garments from these exclusive capsule collections can be found with hundreds of likes on resale platforms.
“The collection that sticks out in my memory the most was the Kate Moss collab in 2010. It was peak-Florence Welch, Sienna Miller in that Hugo Boss advert, Alexa Chung at Glasto era,” says journalist Bea Isaacson. “I remember stroking a jacket at the Topshop Oxford Circus and feeling a part of it. It was a genuine culture!”
Championing emerging designers wasn’t just about finding the next viral T-shirt design; it helped build Topshop’s reputation as not only reflecting, but defining British style. “I’d love, above everything else, to see Topshop pioneer British fashion again,” says Isaacson. “Collaborations with emerging artists at reasonable prices were so much more interesting than the soft influencer exposure of today. It was a real word-of-mouth, on-the-ground-running [style]. In a macro sense, I’d love to see Topshop bring back street style that’s leading the charge, over influencer or social media-style.”
In the early 2010s, consumer conversations in fashion were decisively focused on body inclusivity. Topshop responded to this through its extended size and height ranges, becoming one of the more size-conscious players on the high street. At last weekend’s Trafalgar Square show, this was continued in the casting of two plus-size models through an open call with Wilhelmina Models. But in an industry where diversity and inclusivity are now expected to be systemic rather than symbolic, two runway appearances felt more like a nostalgic nod than a genuine understanding of its customers’ values. “At the time when Topshop was at its most popular, the emphasis wasn’t on sustainability – it was more so inclusivity, which is why they had such a wide size range in stores,” says Nancy. “They could emphasise sustainability to tap into the attitudes of their customer base now and how those have changed with the rise of sustainable fashion.”
With 69% of clothing globally now made from plastic, and failed negotiations on the Global Plastics Treaty last week, this isn’t just a branding issue; it’s a climate one. Sustainability is meant to be the loudest conversation in fashion, yet revivals like this quietly ask us to forget what we’ve learned.
Anna Woods, Positive Retail founder
Former Topshop buyer and now founder of resale brand Positive Retail, Anna Woods, says: “While it’s easy to crave what Topshop represented, we can’t ignore what we’ve learned since: overproduction, burnout, the cost of chasing volume over values. Topshop’s Managing Director, Michelle Wilson, has said their higher prices reflect a more sustainable model. But when 88% of the Women’s Clothing range is still under £65 and the most common material used is plastic derived from fossil fuels, it’s hard to see the proof. With 69% of clothing globally now made from plastic, and failed negotiations on the Global Plastics Treaty last week, this isn’t just a branding issue; it’s a climate one. Sustainability is meant to be the loudest conversation in fashion, yet revivals like this quietly ask us to forget what we’ve learned.”
For a generation that increasingly values sustainability and conscious consumerism, the lack of transparency in production, supply chains, and environmental responsibility across the high street remains uncomfortable for many shoppers. “It would be great to see Topshop share details of their supply chain on their website, as I honestly think that would set them apart massively from other brands,” says fashion historian and co-host of Spill the Sustainabili-Tea podcast, Rosie Okotcha. “Coming back as a transparent and ethical brand – granted, a business of that size can never ever be truly environmentally sustainable – they can at least aim for epic ethics.” Okotcha says factory checks, barcodes to trace the garment’s journey, and engagement with local communities could position the brand as a modern, responsible player – a goal that still feels out of reach at present.
If not, Topshop risks losing out to its own resale – Vinted reports that “vintage Topshop” is the third highest search related to the brand. According to ThredUp’s 11th annual resale report, Gen Z shoppers are expected to propel the global secondhand market to grow three times faster than the overall apparel market through 2027. As a result, the secondhand clothing market is projected to reach $84 billion globally by 2030, underscoring how resale has shifted from niche to mainstream, especially among younger consumers who value both sustainability and individuality in fashion.
For Topshop, many of the looks showcased on the runway – such as denim jackets embellished with brooches – could be DIYed from thrifted Topshop or other second-hand garments. “The fact that we have plenty of Topshop in charity shops and on Vinted and eBay already – not to mention the amount that is currently washing up on shores in places like Ghana – there’s just no need to revive something that isn’t going to change the landscape of shopping in a more responsible way,” says Staniland.
The fact that we have plenty of Topshop in charity shops and on Vinted and eBay already – not to mention the amount that is currently washing up on shores in places like Ghana – there’s just no need to revive something that isn’t going to change the landscape of shopping in a more responsible way.
Brett Staniland
Okotcha points out that even the shutting-down-central-London runway format no longer holds the same prestige it once did, citing ASOS x Adidas Original’s recent collaborative collection that launched with a runway show on Warren Street. She says this makes Topshop’s latest event feel less industry-leading, and more like another cog in the fast fashion machine. Nostalgia alone, no matter how fondly remembered, can only take you so far – relevance, responsibility, and desirability must follow. “Building a relaunch on nostalgia isn’t great; the hype will probably die down as quickly as it came, and what we are left with is another expensive fast fashion chain that people won’t buy first-hand from,” says Maria.
Plans are already underway for the brand to make its big return to the high street, although not to its former address on Oxford Street (now home to London’s first centrally-based IKEA). Instead, Managing Director of Topshop and Topman, Michelle Wilson, has confirmed that it will begin with McElhinney’s department store in Ballybofey, County Donegal, from 21st August.
“When you said Topshop 10 years ago, people thought of Big Topshop and how iconic it was,” says Maria. “When you say Topshop now, it sounds exactly like what it is: a fast fashion chain that failed, and in a world of a climate crisis, no one needs another fast fashion shop. Times have changed, and it’s not the time to revive what has already died.”
Topshop’s return is undeniably sentimental for many, but sentimentality cannot substitute for purpose. At present, the brand risks being an echo of its former self – Topshop’s value was in its curation, its ability to capture a cultural moment, and its keen eye for young talent. Now it is in danger of being a footnote in the broader fast fashion narrative unless it radically rethinks its approach. To truly reclaim its place, it will need to do more than remind us of what was; it will need to prove what it can be. Until then, I’ll still be logging on for livestreams, but it’ll take more than nostalgia for me to press “purchase”.
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