Laid Bare: Mila Sullivan Makes Material Memory
What does it mean to strip something down until all that’s left is its essence? For Brooklyn, New York–based designer Mila Sullivan the answer lies in Laid Bare, the SS26 collection that collages fragility with brutalism. Her hand-dyed silks are wrinkled by time, and lace scraps stitched together into an avant-garde gowns, but she really expands her artisan skills with a rusting metal skirt cinched by ribbons of delicate silk. Two weeks before her SS26 show, staged theatrically, she welcomed MERDE’s photographer Kenna Kroge into her studio for a backstage preview. There, bolts of fabric were stacked, moodboards pinned, and ephemeral textures everywhere. The same impermanence MERDE obsesses over was already already present in the making of this triumphant collection. Nothing scalable, nothing standard, just a designer yanking fashion back to its raw nerve and daring it to hold. Mila even roped in Okapa, turning luxury water bottles into runway relics. Lace, chain, glass—objects pushed past function until they became part of the collection itself.
In conversation with MERDE, Sullivan unpacks Laid Bare: why material always dictates silhouette, how contrast became a departure, and why risk is the only way forward.
Studio and Show images captured by Kenna Kroge
Thanks to &SuchNYC
“The ghostly drape of a single ripped piece of white silk chiffon on the front of the lace gown blowing behind the model with every step.”
“I never make a sketch of any piece I’m creating. I think when I first begin working with someone and they see my process they must think I’m crazy. I truly always take a material to the form first.”
How do you decide when a material leads the silhouette versus when the silhouette dictates the material?
For me I think the material always leads. I never make a sketch of any piece I’m creating. When I first begin working with someone and they see my process, they must think I’m crazy. I truly always take a material to the form first. I will spend entire days just draping until it just clicks for me. I never consider finishings, or zippers, or how to practically construct the garment at this point. It’s all just about the design, the form, the drape. I’ll figure out the rest later, and always do.
What does being ‘Laid Bare’ mean to you? Does it mean revealing what’s underneath, or stripping away what doesn’t belong?
To me “Laid Bare” holds two meanings. I don’t know if I can fully describe just how personal everything I make is. I think that’s true to some degree for every designer, but I think what differentiates my work is just how much of my literal hand is in everything. I was driven to make this the strongest collection I’ve ever put out and I feel I bared my full soul into this show. It’s about how materials deconstruct, tarnish, wear, and weather over time.
Do you see this season as a continuation of your past work, or a departure from it?
I see this season as not only a continuation of my past work but a further extension of a practice I’ve been developing for years. My process has always begun with materials but materiality was the primary focus this season. Almost every look in this collection was in part hand dyed, many with natural dyes such as avocado and cabbage. I was interested in how fabrics and materials change over time, become weathered and worn in beautiful and unusual ways. I would twist up hand dyed silks and leave them to dry, resulting in this beautiful wrinkled texture where the dye became more saturated at the edges.
Where I feel like I’ve departed from my past work is where I pushed the materiality to the point of contrast. My work has always been very soft and extremely delicate. I began to introduce a lot of metal elements into this collection, in part with our runway partner Okapa, a luxury water bottle company, to create some amazing contrast between hard and soft. I worked with Okapa to style and curate 9 bottles on the runway and they became beautiful extensions of the collection, adorned with lace, chain, found objects, all providing so much texture and contrast. I also created a fully metal kite this season that we styled with a look that’s white lace and literal cheesecloth. I love the harsh contrast between those two.
What’s the one fabric you kept returning to, even when it complicated everything?
It was definitely the final look, the full lace gown. It’s entirely made from literal scraps of lace I collaged and draped directly on the form. I didn’t want a single straight seam and for it to feel as if all the tiny bits of lace were just effortlessly interconnected. This meant hand sewing each scrap before taking it to the machine.
Collaging lace and working with small intricate scraps has been something I’ve done in the past but never to this level. I chose it as the closing look because I think it best exemplifies my process for design. Working deliberately and slowly with intention to create something that can quite literally only ever be created once.
What gesture or movement did you design into the clothes that a model might discover live on the runway?
There were a few, the sound of metal and chain clanging as the models walked. The way the iron gate ribbon motif would move as the large dot skirt floated down the runway. The ghostly drape of a single ripped piece of white silk chiffon on the front of the lace gown blowing behind the model with every step.
What kind of presence are you casting for this season—beyond height, body, or walk?
We were looking for quiet confidence, someone that felt ethereal. I love casting people who either are or feel like they could be a dancer. I’m so inspired by the way dancers can hold so much athleticism and power but have such control over their movements it can feel as if they’re floating above the ground.
Who among your cast surprised you in fittings, making the clothes behave differently than expected?
It’s hard to say just one person. I begin to feel like each piece has its own personality and character as I’m making it, and I’m extremely deliberate in casting and fittings in pairing looks to models. I can’t separate anyone from their looks now. They’ve become part of those pieces' identity. It feels like magic when you make a garment and have only ever seen it on the form and then someone comes in and just gives it life. It feels like they’ve just always been in that look.
If one model or muse carried the manifesto of “Laid Bare,” who would it be and why?
Pamela Anderson, giving the world everything, baring it all literally and then stripping it all back to reveal herself truly and being absolutely fearless and breathtaking always.
Which look holds the most risk for you personally in this collection?
I think the metal skirt felt like a huge risk for me. It’s not a material I’ve worked with in the past, or have ever really been drawn to prior to this collection. The top was one of the first pieces I made in the collection and was the lightest, most delicate silk I draped and hand painted dye on to. I couldn’t figure out a bottom for it for the longest time. I think it just all came together so perfectly the second we brought in the metal texture. The beautiful juxtaposition between this rusting metal being held up by delicate silk ribbons just perfectly sitting on the hips.
When people describe you as a “Brooklyn, New York designer,” what part of that identity feels true, and what part feels limiting?
I came to New York to begin my creative journey. Studying fashion design at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn is really where I began to figure out my process and who I am as a designer. After school I spent some time in LA, and I think my work changed when I was out there. I began showing at NYFW when I moved back and I think I just thrive in the extreme fast paced environment of the NY fashion scene. It would be such a dream to expand and be able to show my work in Paris.
How do you know when a collection is yours—and not something you’re making for the industry?
I’m pretty sure nothing I do is industry standard. Almost every piece I create is handmade by myself. It’s a painfully slow process and I could never justify doing it for anyone but myself. Making work that’s not replicable or scalable in any way probably isn’t smart business, but that’s not why I’m making this work. I’m driven too much by the romanticism of the work and for the love of creating worlds that are my own.
I feel a real sense of pride when I look back at a piece that I made years ago, and it still feels timeless and beautiful to me.
“I’m so inspired by the way dancers can hold so much athleticism and power but have such control over their movements it can feel as if they’re floating above the ground.”
If someone had to understand you through a single garment from your archive, which one would you hand them?
I have a top I created from a vintage scrap of fabrics that I hand dyed with avocado. I then draped it and hand stitched it together entirely on the form. I added a silk ribbon almost dancing across the bottom and dot tulle hanging from the neck. The whole thing just came together so seamlessly I don't think I made a single cut on the fabric. It feels like something that’s always existed within me, and as soon as I found the material it just created itself.
What do you hope remains with people once the spectacle of NYFW is over and all that’s left is memory?
The feeling it brought.
