HEADER IMAGE Scarlet Page
In today’s cultural zeitgeist, the most resonant moments of a pop tour are no longer confined to the stage itself. They live on social media, replayed millions of times: a single dance move, a fan cameo, a gesture that feels unscripted enough to cut through carefully-crafted pop personas. Whether it’s Charli XCX’s Apple dance evolving nightly with surprise guests, Role Model’s recurring Sally cameos, or Sabrina Carpenter’s on-stage “arrests”, these micro-moments have become some of the most viewed videos of 2025.
In recent months, one of the most widely shared came during Zara Larsson’s Midnight Sun European tour. Each night, Larsson would invite a fan to dance to “Lush Life” beside her, sparking a moment of onstage intimacy amplified by arena lighting and phone screens held aloft. In Dublin, however, the focus shifted from her choreography to her clothing. Larsson stepped out wearing a hand-crafted knit skirt by emerging designer Paul Aaron, and within hours, the internet had taken notice. The videos circulated widely, fan accounts reposted furiously, and Aaron’s inbox lit up overnight.
That surge of visibility sits in stark contrast to Aaron’s formative experience inside one of fashion’s most mythologised institutions. His time at Central Saint Martins – a place synonymous with industry-leading innovation and globally recognised designer names – sharpened his critique of how fashion operates behind its PR-approved reputation. While the opportunities were undeniable, so too were the pressures: rapid turnover, relentless competition, and an environment that rewarded proximity and privilege as much as process. “There is so much I’d go back and change,” he reflects, “but I learned that talent doesn’t count for much; it’s about 10% of the overall picture. It’s about who you are, how you look, and who you know that will help you in that place.” What lingered long after graduation was not a sense of validation, but a clearer understanding of the industry’s structural imbalances, and a refusal to contort his practice to fit them.
The Merseyside-born creative developed his craft slowly, obsessively, and largely alone after graduation. Working as a one-person studio, his pieces are meticulously constructed thread by thread through crochet, bead weaving, and hand knitting, favouring detail over delivery speed, and visibility earned through labour, not institutional backing. The irony is not lost on him that it took a fleeting pop-tour viral clip to bring broader recognition to work that can take him more than a hundred hours to complete. Yet it is precisely this tension – between virality and craft, fantasy and reality – that defines Paul Aaron’s work today.
Can you start by introducing yourself?
I’m Paul Aaron Collins, also known as Paul Aaron Knitwear. I’m 25 + VAT (I’m 30 – ugh, I know, disgusting), but mentally, I’d say I’m almost an adult. I grew up in a place called Merseyside – where the Titanic was built! – right next to Liverpool. Now, I reside in Cheshire – not like the rich housewives, unfortunately, but maybe one day…
I grew up with a single mother and an absent alcoholic father whose deeply religious Irish Catholic family never liked me and always treated me very differently from my brother. I fear the religion in them saw the “satanic” (homosexual) side to me before I even knew who or what I was – for whatever reason, I was never christened, and I am the only family member not to be.
What were your earliest inspirations to practice fashion design?
I am inspired by the reality TV shows I grew up watching: Project Runway was a major inspiration, I dreamt of being on that show, and I was obsessed with dating shows such as Flavour Of Love, Rock Of Love, and Beauty and the Geek. I was also obsessed with The Simple Life – Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie were two major style icons from that era – along with Joy Turner, played by Jaime Pressly, in My Name Is Earl. I have always been inspired by super trashy bimbo characters and divas.
Equally, I’ve always been fascinated by showgirls – strippers, sex workers, etc – girls who were dominant and had striking visuals, who took back the power that is often used against them by weak-minded men and judgmental outsiders who don’t understand the power women in those fields possess. That’s where my design aesthetic definitely stemmed from; I used to cut up my mum’s clothes and make dresses for my dolls, as every other little queer kid did, it seems (there are absolutely no original experiences, unfortunately). At the start, my mum and other family members were very against me playing with dolls and girls’ toys, but it was the only thing that kept me quiet and my god, if I didn’t have my dolls, all hell would break loose. I think it was within everyone’s best interests to leave me alone in my room with my toys, creating future magic.
I’ve always been fascinated by showgirls – strippers, sex workers, etc – girls who were dominant and had striking visuals, who took back the power that is often used against them by weak-minded men and judgmental outsiders who don’t understand the power women in those fields possess.
How was your experience studying fashion, and how did your practice develop while you studied?
I studied fashion and textiles at college in Liverpool for 3 years and learned a lot about pattern cutting, sewing; the basics. I was a whizz when it came to digital art and CAD (not anymore, I hate digital work with a passion these days). I made a dress out of knitted trash bags for a beauty pageant’s eco round, part of our college brief, and I won! That’s when I discovered my love for knit and crochet. My nan used to crochet and knit, so it always reminded me of her at the start, and it was something I did to remember her.
I then studied Fashion Knitwear Design & Knitted Textiles at Nottingham Trent. I was a great student – I did everything on time and was having a good time – but it was a very technical course, which is amazing for industry, but not for me. I wanted, dare I say, more excitement? I packed up and left after a year to go to study Fashion Design with Knitwear at Central Saint Martins in London. Some friends from college were already in London, and I felt like it was my calling, so I took the leap.
In hindsight, staying at NTU would have been a lot better for my mental health in the long run. However, CSM opened many doors, and gave me many opportunities that I would’ve never had the chance to experience anywhere else. When I reflect on my time at CSM, it’s bittersweet; I have some amazing memories, I met incredible people and it’s full of such talent and light. Yet the flip side is the mental torture you’re forced into: it’s majorly competitive and if you don’t have a rich family paying for you, a scholarship (which mostly got given to rich students. Facts are facts, and i’m still bitter about that) or are a nepo baby, then you’re fucked, unless you’re incredibly talented and your craft is already refined, (and you’re a teachers favorite) you won’t have the best experience.
My practice didn’t develop until I graduated, in all honesty. There was no time to develop with how fast-paced everything was, and I became a really bad student after the first year. I did everything so last-minute and partied instead of working on my projects. Mental illness crept in, and my ambition left the building. I can only blame myself for my lack of effort in the final year and latter half of my second year, but that was because I saw CSM for what it was, so I gave up instead of people-pleasing.
How would you describe your aesthetic in your own words?
I’d say my aesthetic is giving stripper-who-stole-some-haute-couture. She’s worn it until it started to fall to pieces and then sewn parts that have fallen off back on in the wrong places to create something you’ve never seen before.
I create beautiful chaos, barely there yet incredibly detailed pieces. The devil truly is in the details! Fantasy and reality meet in the middle – that’s how I’d describe the vibe.
What’s one piece you’ve made that you feel summarises your label, and why?
I’d say the original beaded butterfly set worn by Livia and styled by Pedro Sales is playful with its silhouette – colourful butterflies and risqué mini skirt and bra – yet couture, all at once. The butterflies are handmade by weaving over 800 glass beads into the butterfly shape. This process takes around 8 hours per butterfly. The bra is crocheted, as is the skirt, while the skirt’s lining is hand-knit. The whole look took over 120 hours to complete, and I do everything by myself, by hand.
The butterflies are handmade by weaving over 800 glass beads into the butterfly shape. This process takes around 8 hours per butterfly…. The whole look took over 120 hours to complete, and I do everything by myself, by hand.
Who or what has inspired your upcoming collection?
My first collection is in the works – and has been for a long time – yet I’ve scrapped every version of every piece. Evolving while creating is a very powerful yet fragile thing to do; learning to let go of things that you’re trying to make work out, yet you know deep down the idea will always be better than the reality.
This year, I’m starting over. I say this every year, but time is not in my favour, so we shall see if one gets released.
Can you describe your design process?
I always start out with textiles. I’ll bead some samples, crochet, knit, etc. For me, it’s always about making something from nothing. My beaded pieces start as a single piece of thread, countless beads, and a 3am idea to put butterflies all over the body.
I’m always being inspired by my previous work, trying to expand on what I’ve done and what I can do to improve. That’s why a collection never materialises; I take everything apart to re-use the beads and make a more refined version of the last piece, as I’m truly never happy with the outcome. I’m my own worst critic; I think we all have to be. Be realistic!
Are there any materials that are significant in your work?
Glass beads and Japanese metallic-coated paper yarn are in everything I do. Bead weaving and crochet embroidery are almost always in every piece I make – and lots of sparkly chains.
How do you like to present your work?
I present my work on a mannequin, with a Samsung camera-quality photo, posted to my Instagram feed. LOL, truly unbothered chaos.
I don’t understand why celebrities don’t tag independent designers: why are we gatekeeping designers and destroying their opportunities to break out? I get very passionately upset about the injustices we face as independent designers, especially when we just want credit for our work.
How would you like to see your work develop, and how are you approaching this?
I’d like to develop into haute couture. Having my own brand feels so far out of reach due to a lack of funding, knowledge, and a team, but it would be my dream to find support, investors, and a business partner. If you’re out there reading this and interested, get in touch!
I’ll carry on making custom looks for my clients and develop my skill set in every way possible. I’m forever a student of my craft. I believe we can never stop learning, even if we feel we are already a master of our profession. Learning is a beautiful thing, and knowledge is power.
What barriers or challenges, if any, have you experienced in accessing the industry?
I lack a lot of business knowledge, and I’m only a one-person team. The biggest barrier, however, is people gatekeeping me and not tagging me on their socials. I don’t understand why celebrities don’t tag independent designers: why are we gatekeeping designers and destroying their opportunities to break out? I get very passionately upset about the injustices we face as independent designers, especially when we just want credit for our work.
How do you think the fashion industry will evolve over the next five years? How do you feel about that change?
Performative poverty is something the industry loves; rich kids cosplaying as lower working class, dripped out head-to-tabi in designer, and spending Christmasses at their country manors, yet they love to tell you about their “struggles” when it comes to finances.
I hate everything fashion is: pretentious, overconsumed, nasty, cheaply-made and sold as high quality, just because the polyester fabric has a so-called ‘designer’ label attached. The word ‘designer’ means nothing these days. People are obsessed with popularity; popularity makes the designer, yet the interns and artisans behind the scenes make the garments. This makes no sense to me, in all honesty.
What changes would you like to see, if any, and how is your brand contributing to this?
Say NO to gatekeeping. Credit everyone in your team – it’s the least you can do. A design house has one face, yet behind the scenes, hundreds of people work for terrible pay, in most cases, and with no acknowledgement. It’s diabolical. Slow fashion is the way forward.
Additionally, stylists need to allocate more time for custom looks from independent designers. I’m doing everything I can to stand up for myself, and others, by tagging them in the comments if the person wearing the look didn’t tag their designers. It’s the bare minimum to credit your team; you owe us that.
Say NO to gatekeeping. Credit everyone in your team – it’s the least you can do. A design house has one face, yet behind the scenes, hundreds of people work for terrible pay, in most cases, and with no acknowledgement. It’s diabolical. Slow fashion is the way forward.
What’s one piece of advice you would give other emerging designers getting started in the fashion industry right now?
Post a lot online. It doesn’t matter if you feel your work isn’t great yet – talent counts for nothing these days, and building a following and building connections is probably more important.
Say no to press loans. Put rental fees in place or don’t let stylists use the pieces, simple as that. You aren’t guaranteed a tag from the celebrity wearing the piece, if they even end up wearing it. Stylists pull so many looks just to have their racks full; they don’t intend to use a lot of pieces, they just want options. If they want it badly enough, they’ll pay. Why would we give our pieces away for free, for nothing in return? A press loan is supposed to give us press, not to allow ourselves to be used and gatekept.
What’s the worst advice you’ve ever been given about fashion or design?
The worst advice was from Rick Owens, who once said: ‘’Shut up and make clothes. Be silent.” It’s easy to say when you’re at the top of the ladder, being held like bait to a sea of hungry sharks, aka fashion students desperate for an internship.
The reality is, making is only one element, and you can’t be discovered if you’re silent. You have to be loud at times; shout, be a bit of a prick to those who are rude to you, give the energy back that you receive. I’d tell my younger self not to allow my softness to be seen as weakness.
What are you blasting on repeat while you’re working in your studio?
Music is my favourite thing, so I could talk about this all day. If I’m making a custom look for a specific artist – for example, Zara Larsson for the Midnight Sun tour – I will stream their music while making the pieces. It helps me get in the zone and fuels me with excitement to visualise them in my custom pieces.
My most recent album, song & EP obsessions are: I Am a Bird Now by Anohni & the Johnsons, Old Hobbies by Frances Whitney, House On Another Street by Corrina, Stage Girl by ELI and Thinking Too Much by Joshua Slone. I also adore anything true crime, and some of my favourite podcasts are The Let’s Read Podcast, MrBallen Podcast: Strange, Dark & Mysterious Stories and Disturbed: True Horror Stories.
What’s your weirdest or wildest fashion obsession right now?
I’m obsessed with Jodie Marsh’s iconic belt for skirts & tops era back in the 00’s, they very much feed into my obsession with ‘less is more’ when it comes to couture. In my personal style, I am wildly obsessed with ugly shoes. Big, bulky, ugly shoes are so my thing, along with lots of layers, and always all-black. My personal style is the polar opposite of my design aesthetic.
There’s only one person on my moodboard right now: the ultimate muse, Mother Monster, Lady Gaga. She is fashion.
What fictional character would LOVE your label?
Betty Spaghetti for sure, that diva would rock a Paul Aaron custom, anyday. Also, the ‘My Scene’ girls – I always preferred them over Bratz.
And who IRL would you love to see wearing your designs?
There’s only one person on my moodboard right now: the ultimate muse, Mother Monster, Lady Gaga. She is fashion. I’ve also always wanted to make a look for Paris Hilton, just because I so badly wanted to be her growing up. But, in all honesty, I just love working with people who truly appreciate my craft, and what I bring to the table.
What’s been the most memorable moment so far since launching your brand?
The most exciting moment was working with Simkhai, an LA-based brand, showcasing at NYFW. I was there for SS23 & AW24 collections, and I made some pieces especially for the runway shows in collaboration with their VP of design, Kittiya Punprapun. It was a huge achievement for me to be in NYC and to work alongside the incredible team at Simkhai.
A special thanks to stylist Alex Carl and her former assistant Abby Adler, who found my pieces in Found and Vision, where stylist Karen Clarkson had a bunch of my archive looks for rental at the time. I’m super grateful for everyone involved in that era of my life.
Enjoyed this story? Help keep independent queer-led publishing alive and unlock the BRICKS Learner Platform, full of resources for emerging and aspiring creatives sent to you every week via newsletter. Start your 30-day free trial now.