Jawara Alleyne is a Jamaican-born, Cayman Islands-raised designer whose work sits at the intersection of fashion, culture, and identity. A graduate of Central Saint Martins and an alum of the Fashion East platform, his collections are known for their draped silhouettes, slashed fabrics, and layered references to Caribbean mythology and London subcultures. Alleyne’s approach draws heavily on his upbringing, where creative expression was often filtered through a cultural lens – a perspective that continues to shape the way he designs today.
Alongside his eponymous label, Alleyne co-founded Nii Agency with photographer Campbell Addy and lectures at Central Saint Martins. He is part of a generation of designers questioning the structures of the fashion industry – its obsession with speed, its shallow engagement with sustainability, and its lack of space for deeper cultural dialogue. For Alleyne, fashion is a platform for storytelling as much as it is about clothes, and his work consistently invites reflection on where influence comes from, and who it’s really for.
The first show I did was with the Cayman National Cultural Foundation. They use art to explore heritage, capture stories, and develop a sense of identity. I was already deep into fashion by then – obsessed with designers like McQueen, Margiela, Karl Lagerfeld, and Alber Elbaz. But in the Cayman Islands, whatever you put into the world has to come through a cultural lens. That’s how value is measured.
I think it’s interesting to start out in fashion that way – where the focus is less on fashion itself and more on the culture embedded within it. At the time, I wasn’t happy about that. I remember thinking, “This is so boring. Why am I making things about turtles and dresses that reference plants?” For me, it felt like a prerequisite – something I had to do in order to explore silhouettes, fabrication, draping, and experimentation. But now, as a practising designer, I see how beginning in that way gave me more ways to add meaning to my work.
Jawara Alleyne, Construction Collection AW25
Fashion lets me embed different ideas into my practice. But I’m aware a fashion magazine probably isn’t going to cover all those layers. I try to explore those ideas elsewhere – through speaking engagements, cultural projects, education-focused initiatives – but the industry itself can feel very surface-level.
What gets presented as journalism often isn’t journalism. It’s just, “Here are our top picks from this collection.” The language around fashion rarely leaves space for real dialogue – language that actually dissects what a collection is saying. And with social media, everything’s so snappy and quick. The time people spend digesting a collection is minimal. You see the show, give your immediate reaction, then five minutes later you’re on to the next one. The cycle is relentless. There’s so much influence, but not much is actually influencing. It just… exists.
Most big brands’ approach to sustainability right now amounts to greenwashing
This is the same reason why most big brands’ approach to sustainability right now amounts to greenwashing. There’s no patience. They’ll invest in one type of sustainable cotton, and that’s the extent of their so-called “sustainability” within the supply chain.
But you can’t just flip the existing system and make it sustainable overnight. It requires building entirely new ways of designing, developing, and distributing. And most brands aren’t willing to invest the time or effort that demands.
The real shift happens when a brand starts setting up structures that gradually bring new philosophies into their framework – when they grow into a brand with a more sustainable mindset, instead of suddenly declaring, “We’re a sustainable brand now.”
Every brand could take that approach – allowing for slow, meaningful change, rather than chasing these extreme, unrealistic transformations that almost always end in greenwashing.
I don’t consider myself a “sustainable designer.” I design in a sustainable way because of where I come from – my culture is inherently sustainable – and how I create. But I don’t position myself in that category. Whatever conversation I’m having, it starts with fashion. Sustainability is part of it because it’s part of me. I don’t need to lead with it. It’s already there, in the work.
Of course, there are two sides to sustainability. I do think consumers need to be more conscious of the life cycle of their clothes – what happens after they’re done wearing them, how they care for their garments, and how long they keep them. That matters.
Consumers aren’t the ones dumping millions of pounds of waste along the supply chain
But the real issue isn’t going to be solved through consumer engagement alone. No matter how much people want sustainable options, if brands aren’t offering products that align with that, consumers will be left choosing whatever’s cheapest and most convenient.
It doesn’t matter how much you care about sustainability – if you walk into a store with ten minutes to grab something before rushing home to your kids, you’re going to pick whatever’s easiest. But if every option on the rack were sustainable, then making the better choice would be effortless.
So it’s a two-way street. I think the shift has already happened – consumers are more aware and are asking for better. But the industry needs to catch up. The burden can’t fall entirely on the individual. Consumers aren’t the ones dumping millions of pounds of waste along the supply chain. They’re not responsible for the water waste, the ink waste, the fabric scraps, or the garments ending up in landfills in Ghana and Chile.
The consumer’s role in all of this is actually quite limited. Yes, they need to be engaged, and yes, they should make better choices when they can. But the real responsibility lies with the industry.
Jawara Alleyne, Eye of the Storm Collection AW24
I think a lot of people in fashion do care about sustainability and genuinely want to see new ways of doing things. But fashion is a monstrous industry – and the people at the top, the ones making the decisions, are focused on one thing: profit.
That’s why Bernard Arnault is one of the richest men in the world, and why François-Henri Pinault is doing everything he can to close the gap. The question at the top is always: how do we extract as much money from this as possible? That’s the priority. That’s the focus.
It wasn’t always like this. In the ‘90s, we saw the heyday of creative directors being brought into major houses – Marc Jacobs at Louis Vuitton, John Galliano at Dior, Alexander McQueen at Givenchy, Tom Ford at Gucci. Their mission was to create. They fought for creative dominance. Now, that’s been replaced by the pursuit of profit — at the expense of fashion, ecology, and society.
Anything that doesn’t generate immediate revenue is sidelined. And the decisions being made aren’t strategic – they’re frantic. It’s all about short-term sales, not long-term value. Brands are constantly hiring and firing. A designer gets one season, and if it’s not an instant commercial hit, they’re out.
But one season isn’t enough. Before, designers were given space to establish a vision – to shape a narrative, to speak to existing customers or bring in new ones. That kind of space no longer exists. The thinking is too short-sighted for any new approach to take root.
Maybe that’s why I think the way I do – because of how I started. From the beginning, I’ve been asking how fashion can intersect with society. How it can be approached with an anthropological, even sociological lens.
For me, a brand should be more than just the clothes. I’m passionate about education, about young people, about engaging with the community. I’m really invested in building a brand that prioritises the sharing of knowledge — whether that’s through community engagement, educational initiatives, or even teaching.
Virgil Abloh was someone who saw fashion not just as a product, but as a platform – something that could support and be supported by culture. He engaged with communities, spoke in all kinds of spaces, and used his resources to share knowledge with the next generation. That’s something I want to weave into my own brand.
Ibrahim Kamara at Off-White thinks in a similar way. I’ve known him since I moved to London, and I’ve always respected his perspective. He studied fashion journalism, communication, and promotion – so he brings a journalistic lens to fashion. His work isn’t just about taking from culture; it’s about giving something back. Placing ideas into the space that carry real cultural weight.
At the end of the day, I love fashion. I love design. I love product.
Yes, there are aspects of the industry that aren’t great. But there’s also so much beauty and value in what fashion can offer the world. And it’s a privilege to be someone who doesn’t just turn up, do a job, and go home – but who’s able to help shape new ideas, new concepts, and new ways of thinking about what it means to be a designer in today’s world.
As told to Edward Owen-Burge in March 2025. This conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.
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