Cover Intricate gold pieces from Tulola Jewelry draw directly on the metalworking traditions and historic motifs of the Indonesian archipelago. (Photo: courtesy of Tulola Jewelry)
Intricate gold pieces from Tulola Jewelry draw directly on the metalworking traditions and historic motifs of the Indonesian archipelago. (Photo: courtesy of Tulola Jewelry)
1 / 1
From Tokyo to Taipei, a generation of Asian designers is embracing their heritage through contemporary collections that incorporate traditional concepts and elements
There is no left or right when it comes to the setta. But this traditional, flat straw-and-leather sandal from the Edo period is still worn in Tokyo these days, paired with yukata or suits or carpenter jeans. Japanese design label Goyemon has modernised the setta as the Unda: a trainer-inspired sandal with an air-cushioned midsole beneath a traditional thong strap. Launched by Ai Onishi and Kenta Takeuchi in 2018, Goyemon has also put its twist on streetwear through collaborations with urban fashion labels Supreme and Neighborhood.
For Takeuchi, the logic behind the Unda runs back to an older economy of care. “In Edo-period Japan, there was a culture of using things thoughtfully and making them last,” he says. “In many ways, that philosophy feels remarkably close to what we now call sustainability.” He describes his label’s method as “translating tradition”. “A good translation is never just a word-for-word replacement,” he says, explaining further that the Japanese word for “tradition”, dento, already contains that idea: “den” means to convey, and “to” means continuity.
Read more: Nana Jacqueline’s founders on the it-girl fashion brand that grew up with the women who wear it
Above The Unda sandal. (Photo: courtesy of Goyemon)
The Unda sandal. (Photo: courtesy of Goyemon)
1 / 1
Another recent example of Asian-coded casual wear is the late 2025 release of Adidas’s Chinese New Year track jackets in China, which went viral early this year; it would have been easy to read the moment as the start of a trend. But it was merely another moment in a trend already underway long before western runways and street-style stars found themselves, as the meme goes, “at a very Asian time” in their lives.
“Historically, global fashion has engaged with Asian dress through an Orientalist lens—treating our garments as ornamental inspiration, sometimes stripped of context, for western consumption,” says Nadya Wang, a Singapore-based fashion historian and curator, and founder of online magazines Fashion & Market and Art & Market. “There are also instances of self-Orientalisation in the region with the aim of gaining international validation.”
What’s different now is who holds the pen. Across Asia, a generation of designers is doing the same kind of translation: treating heritage as a material to build with, not a costume to preserve. “Today’s youth flip this power dynamic through authorship,” Wang says. “By designing, styling and documenting heritage on their own digital platforms, they are confident primary authors of their culture. They are no longer asking—or waiting—for permission. Rather, they establish their aesthetic authority within their own communities who can speak and appreciate the same sartorial languages.”
Above Vietnam’s Fanci Club “ao dai”-inspired style. (Photo: courtesy of Fanci Club)
Vietnam’s Fanci Club “ao dai”-inspired style. (Photo: courtesy of Fanci Club)
1 / 1
Fanci Club is a Ho Chi Minh City-based label founded in 2018 by Duy Tran, who began as an upcycler and reseller of second-hand clothes. The brand has since dressed Bella Hadid, Olivia Rodrigo and all four members of Blackpink in pieces that trade in empowered sensuality. For its autumn-winter 2026 collection, Joined, Tran leaned into high ao dai necklines, offset by unpredictable flashes of skin against Vietnamese embroidery and textiles.
Tran is careful not to overstate the role of heritage; the label has deconstructed traditional garments, he says, “but I wouldn’t say that Vietnamese heritage is something we intentionally reference in every Fanci design.” The visible influence is closer to the 1990s, “particularly the image of young women living in the city during that period”. It was a decade that saw Vietnam undergo a major transformation from an isolated, impoverished nation into a rapidly growing market economy re-integrating with the global community.
Regardless, being Vietnamese still shapes the work; representing home, Tran says, “can also be about allowing a contemporary Vietnamese perspective to exist on its own and hopefully connect with people beyond Vietnam”.
Read more: The Chinese models who made Victoria’s Secret history in Shanghai 9 years ago
Above The Kukur collection. (Photo: courtesy of Proudrace)
The Kukur collection. (Photo: courtesy of Proudrace)
1 / 1
From outside the Philippines, Filipino fashion is typically depicted as the terno, the butterfly-sleeved dress made globally famous by deposed first lady Imelda Marcos, or pieces using delicate piña fabric, a lightweight material made from the fibres of pineapple leaves.
But Rik Rasos, co-founder and creative director of Proudrace, works with quintessential staples in a modern Filipino wardrobe instead: deconstructed tees, jeans, sportswear fabric, trainers. “For me, that familiarity is where the idea of Filipino identity begins,” he says—it’s taking something ordinary and pushing it somewhere unexpected while keeping it recognisable. “There’s something important about seeing a piece and thinking, ‘I know this. I’ve seen this before. This feels like home.’”
In 2025, Proudrace worked with Adidas to reimagine the Jabbar Lo, a basketball shoe released by the sport brand in 1971, in the brown tones of the iconic Philippine Choc-Nut chocolate bar. The details are drawn from the lace curtains in Rasos’s grandmother’s house, with a stamp patch inspired by letters his father sent from overseas. The second collab with Adidas debuted at Manila Fashion Week in September this year, and builds on a “condensed milk” colour way. Much as that ingredient has found its way into so many Filipino desserts, so denim, T-shirts and sneakers bought second-hand from ukay-ukay—stores which sell pre-loved and surplus clothing—or handed down from family gain a new life in Proudrace.
This mixing is not new; Wang even describes it as the region’s norm. “Dress is inherently hybrid [here],” she says. “Southeast Asia is built on maritime trade routes and fluid cultural exchange. Drawing rigid national borders around shared heritage would be ignoring the historical reality of how material and visual cultures evolved through regional hybridity.”
Above Tatler Most Stylish honouree Happy Salma in her daily kebaya. (Photo: courtesy of Happy Salma)
Tatler Most Stylish honouree Happy Salma in her daily kebaya. (Photo: courtesy of Happy Salma)
1 / 1
In Jakarta and Ubud, actress and producer Happy Salma, a Tatler Most Stylish 2026 honouree from Indonesia, and founder and creative concept lead of Tulola Jewelry, honours traditional dress in her everyday looks. She is known for favouring a kebaya over western dress. “[This preference] simply came about because, aside from being comfortable and flattering to my body shape, it also makes me feel more confident. In terms of identity, it represents who I am as someone who admires tradition while living in the modern world,” she says.
She draws a line, though, between the wearing of traditional pieces for their intended purpose, and incorporating them into the regular wardrobe. Ceremonial dress, after all, has rules: “Every piece of fabric, motif or item of jewellery can serve as a symbol or statement of status, ethics and wisdom. [But] when the context is fashion and it is used as a form of self-expression, I feel that we are free to combine it with anything.”
As much of a fan as historian Wang is of incorporating heritage and history into contemporary designs, she says credit is important: designers should not claim exclusive invention, but rather share where a motif or tradition comes from, credit the fabric makers, and ensure artisans receive fair compensation.
Salma has seen the other side of that ledger. The greatest challenge at Tulola, which takes the motifs and craft techniques of the Indonesian archipelago as its medium, is copying, she says. “There is a sense of heartbreak [that elements are reproduced], but strangely, there is also a sense of pride, because it means that what we have been doing has made an impact.” More jewellery being made also means more work for artisans, and Tulola’s stated aim is to build a market for their skills that can last for generations.
Above The Kukur collection. (Photo: courtesy of Proudrace)
The Kukur collection. (Photo: courtesy of Proudrace)
1 / 1
Proudrace is tackling the same question from Manila. The label works with local weavers and, alongside the Philippine government’s textile research institute, DOST-PTRI, on locally produced weaves, which mark its second collection with Adidas.
“Designers are also constantly pushing the mediums forward, reinterpreting age-old motifs and creating fresh, contemporary silhouettes that appeal to a new generation,” says Wang. “Trend culture feeds on rapid turnover and aesthetic commodification. For longevity, we will need the backing of an entire ecosystem: supporting independent fashion media, investing in ethical artisan supply chains, and fostering rigorous fashion scholarship that honours production labour. If we celebrate the aesthetics [of heritage] on the runway, we must equally value the living hands behind it.”
Salma takes the long view. “I think fashion tends to move in cycles,” she says. “There may come a time when people grow tired of ancestral heritage and want something more modern, but eventually, there will also be a time when they return to it.
“However, I also believe that as long as traditions continue to be lived, practised, and allowed to evolve, the elements associated with them—including what we wear on our bodies—will continue to exist alongside them.”
Topics
Curated for you
The stories, profiles, and cultural moments featured on our Instagram feed
