The London-based fashion and print designer makes a statement. But what exactly is it?
No matter what words you choose to describe Ella Marsh’s work, it inevitably feels like an understatement.
It’s clothing and costume.
Campy and contemplative.
Sexual and spunky.
Playful and profound.
Performative and personal.
You could go on, but still seem like you’re just on the cusp of what the Central Saint Martins grad makes.
Her black and white patchwork dress, with each hand-sewn square a different size, is an optical pleasure. Her pleated mini dresses with a cool kinetic quality are freeing forms. Her rose bouquet dress exudes self-love. And, of course, there are her Wiener-dog bags made from old clothes and deadstock fabrics. They’re childish yet refined enough for an adult, becoming symbolic of an imaginative and unencumbered self-expression.
As garments that eloquently reveal the uniqueness of who wears it, each creation comes to life once it’s put on, seen clearly in Jesson Hill’s short film. Perhaps this is why describing Marsh’s fashion feels unfinished, because it is only when an individual wears it to play around as their true self in the world that it becomes complete—a delightful declaration of distinctiveness.