Most designers start each season with a new inspiration—an artwork they stumbled across while traveling to a far-flung location, an elusive feeling they want to bottle up, or some forgotten design buried in their brand’s archive. Aiayu simply picks up where it left off: breezy natural fibers, relaxed tailoring, and a healthy dose of transeasonal layering.
“I don’t believe in seasons,” said creative director Maria Høgh Heilmann. “I think you should buy clothes that you use all year round for many years, so we tend to stick to the silhouettes, forms, and the materials we know work, and then we mix them in new ways. We seek inspiration within ourselves.”
Spring 2027 will drop in three parts from January to March. There is a nod to newness in the form of a slouchy oilskin bomber jacket, but like much of what Aiayu does, it is heavily inspired by the hard-wearing classics customers reach for again and again. “Our new styles will always reference something you know and love,” said Høgh Heilmann. “At the end of the day, a bomber is a bomber; it’s something you always go back to, like a classic denim jacket.”
Rather than a show or presentation, Aiayu opted for a three-part series of smaller gatherings under the umbrella ‘Notes on Materials,’ including a styling and fitting session, a library of trims and found objects, and an opportunity for guests to get up-close and personal with the fabrics. There was cotton sourced in India, yak and cashmere from Mongolia and Nepal, flax-linen from Europe, and, of course, the Bolivian llama wool knitwear that gave the brand its raison d’etre more than 20 years ago.
A wispy cotton-silk jacquard with an organic leaf print brought a light femininity to an otherwise androgynous black dress, and a densely woven cotton poplin trench offered water resistance without harsh coatings or finishes. The jacket’s check print—a hallmark of the material rather than a stylistic choice—was mirrored in a flowing seersucker pant. Høgh Heilmann’s obsessive commitment to pushing the boundaries of natural fibers would be wasted on a show, where clothes whizz past in a matter of seconds. “Our materials are something you need to touch and wear yourself,” she said. “Then you feel the difference.”
Much of the collection was made up of undyed, earthy neutrals, but small injections of sun-washed blossom pinks, burnt yellows, and muscovado browns allude to the changing seasons. This is Danish dressing at its most pure: materials first, utility always, and imbued with an envy-inducing sense of ease. As Høgh Heilmann said, “clothes are made for living.”
