One of the cornerstones of Phipps is character work. Less so in the theater kid tradition of “yes, and?”-ing one’s way through life, and more so in the Cindy Sherman-esque school of studying and embodying an individual. Designer Spencer Phipps builds his product not around nebulous inspirations, but around people, characters, that exist in the collective imagination of the roads less traveled in America—as in, not New York or Los Angeles. Except that these people and their stories are not made up, but very much real.
“Fringe characters” is how Phipps described them on a recent phone call. “It’s all very American Midwest-oriented,” he explained. “We have people living off grid, bikers, the weird old man; basically everyone I’m charmed by,” the designer said. Not unlike Cindy Sherman, this season Phipps cast himself in his lookbook, in addition to shooting it and styling it himself. He’s made cameos in past collections, but this is the first time it’s all him. “It feels a little insane,” he conceded.
While Phipps did cite Sherman’s self-portraiture as a reference, the impetus behind making himself the face of the collection is pragmatic, not some kind of esoteric art reference. The designer, who is a finalist for the 2024 CFDA/Vogue Fashion Fund, recently launched a YouTube channel after finding success with a series of self-shot Instagram Reels in which he styled himself in a variety of Phipps looks. “I looked at our most viral content form the last six months, some of which we’ve racked up half a million views on, and said ‘why not just do that?’”
Phipps admits that this approach will not always be suitable or feel relevant, but it’s astute to bank on his own image now given the positive returns he’s seen on social media. Unlike most of his CVFF counterparts, he’s not staging a runway show during New York Fashion Week; online, at least for now, is where his business is.
Phipps’s clothes are appealing in their practicality and familiarity. Standouts this season include a pair of shearling chaps and their more commercial counterpart, patchworked in a combination of leather and white canvas or denim. There’s a handful of great cozy knits and fleeces, some in vintage-y impressionistic landscapes and others in abstracted plaids, and a run of handsome rugged workwear. The sleeper hit is likely to be the studded chinos—like your favorite Dickies only dressier.
It helps that Phipps has a sense of humor. Here and there, the designer is holding a Phipps branded ax, a chainsaw, animal crackers, and even a Phipps branded newspaper (which is how he chose to present his work for consideration for the Fund). “The photos are hilarious, but there’s a character and storytelling aspect to it that we approach in a more cinematic way,” he said. “There’s a certain believability I like that involves holding an object or something that pushes the look into the character space.”
The added layer of appeal is that much of fashion at the moment involves cosplay: Think of the many URL-driven trends that come and go, like “office siren” or “trad-wife.” These involve a certain degree of costume. Gone—for now—are the days of designing for abstract personas like “the woman with a career!” or “the cool guy downtown.” Those people are cosplaying too—dressing up for the job or life that they want. It’s just that for Phipps, the life he’s modeling is less about climbing the corporate ladder than it is about hiking the Appalachian trail.
