For the first time in 15 years, the Central Saint Martins B.A. graduate show decamped from its usual home in King’s Cross and ventured south of the river to Peckham. Despite the tempestuous weather, the streets surrounding the venue fizzed with summer: Jewel-toned Buzzballs adorned the pavement, and frissons of Afro Dance and dubby hooks sliced the air from cars whizzing by. Up a flight of Pepto Bismol-pink stairs (past a small group of protesters), across a panoramic rooftop, and down once again into a cavernous parking garage—the CSM bachelor’s program students had set up for a spectacle: this is a show that has historically mused on the world it’s shaped by and proposed what could come next without constraint. With friends and family mixed in with editors and esteemed alumni taking seats in the concrete space, the mood felt buoyant.
Of the 40 designers from at least 27 different countries and across CSM’s fashion-related programs, several will soldier on into the M.A., while others will take jobs in ateliers, events, and communications. But the B.A. show is a space where you need not yet worry about contending with commercial demands (just yet), capitulating to capsule wardrobe edits, or serving at the altar of algorithms and affiliate programs. This cohort is most certainly not in allegiance to the demi-gods of quiet luxury, either—and in the industrial space, colors grew caustic, textures and techniques popped, and very personal storytelling was made more stark.
As noted by course leader Sarah Gresty—who is now a decade into teaching the program—the 2026 line-up grappled with their own identities to weave a more personal picture of real-world issues. Show opener and womenswear student Polina Kadilnikova is a Ukrainian designer who traveled home while making her collection, finding inspiration in the people cleaved from their normality to take up arms or nurse others. The first helmet-wearing model walked the runway with her arms tightly ensconced in a tunic painted with a watercolor image of a lush forest. A tin dress with swirling naturalistic cut-outs acted as both an armor and a prism to the past. It was a powerful, personal display that won Kadilnikova first prize—this year, judged by a popular vote that made it feel all the more potent.
Harley Angrabeit—who took the H&M Sustainability Fashion Award—brought the buzz of London’s Ridley Road market and its beautifully dressed aunties and uncles, building on that psychedelic, overstimulated feeling of a busy Saturday with cobalt blues and crushed pinks, houndstooth and flammable labels. A red fishnet vest was fashioned into a speaker, and a pillowy dress was given structure with an oversized coat hanger. Receipts shot out of the bustier of a handbag-dress, and a bodice was affixed with a glittering selection of market jewels. High visual impact, higher vibes.
Taking up space was literal and liberal, from former Savile Row pattern-cutter Daniel Haworth’s cohort of bulbous-buttoned paper doll dresses and fluted hems, to Cassie Ambroz’s models who stomped the runway in whorling, candy-colored legwarmers and super-puffball dresses. Buzz Shatford closed the show with a riot of acerbically neon beauty queens in latex pannier skirts and fuzzy bubble hems.
Even among the more subtle, there was a clear point of view. Shane Elias’s menswear carries an almost heritage quality with its warped tailoring and immaculate embroidery—with hints of some Slimane-isms (and Elias’s own background as a musician). It’s something that could easily slot onto a rail at Dover Street Market. Matches Fashion Scholar and womenswear designer Julie Pereira Martins put on a theatrical display—one model walked with an egg and spoon in mouth, another laughed uncontrollably, another screamed—but her Pina Bausch-inspired dresses and rosebud skirts were imbued with a delicate, balletic quality.
The entire designer edit, no matter their specialism and background, experimented with their own prints and textiles—there was a continued desire among the students, Gresty said, to produce something unique and personal. Chi Wei’s beaded boleros, car coats, and hairbows were a sensual delight, while print student Finlay Maguire’s dandies charmed in color and textured florals a la Dries Van Noten. Iraqi designer and British Fashion Council scholar Zahra Al-Najjar presented printed trousers made using vintage Arab magazines and a stunning dress painted with her interpretation of Farsi. Matteo Dunkley, who specializes in knitwear, created a technique of embedding wax within a knit to make a captivating, mouldable and shimmering material: a structured and bow-cinched, layered peplum would work on the press tour circuit for any fun-fashion emerging starlet. Greta Guise Smith crafted a hand-appliqued latex cloak and fanning rubber capes for sensitive dominatrixes that moved divinely, while Julia O’Callaghan sent out a buttery latex fringed dress for a look that felt part pagan goddess, part flapper.
One breathtaking moment came from Yuki Naka, another winner of the H&M Sustainable Fashion Award, who crafted garments made from soap: what looked like a cable-knit jacket had a collar that lathered up and bubbled on the runway. Menswear student and BFC scholar Luke Saul proposed a pair of ‘jeans’ crafted from scraps of oil-painted calico, and a sequin dress made entirely from aluminium cans. “EDUCATION, NOT MISSILES,” his undulating handwoven tunic read.
Models fresh from the catwalk mingled behind the back rows, gargantuan millinery bobbing along to the frenetic soundtrack—students are encouraged to use music that speaks to their work and disregard any flow, so we bopped from Drake to Queen, Eastern European folk tunes, and hyperpop. There was a sense of lightness as the crowd barreled out into the still-stark summer evening light of South London. For this year’s graduates, the future is not something we’re propelling toward chaotically, but an expanse of possibility.
