Central Saint Martins BA 2026: Fashion’s Last Safe Space for Bad Ideas

For the first time since its 2011 move to King’s Cross, Central Saint Martins didn’t host its BA graduate show on campus. Instead, insiders, students, and the occasional aunt found themselves pulled out of the King’s Cross bubble and dropped into a car park in Peckham. Getting there required a guided ascent through stairs drenched in a shade of pink that a 2016 LA wall would probably rather forget. The climb seemed designed to “warm up” guests for London’s uncooperative breeze, which promptly ignored the invitation and made itself very present at the rooftop level instead. Frank’s Café, perched above the site like it’s been asked to comment on the weather, offered a brief moment of calm. That is, until the wind decided to come back significantly less polite. A few flights down, the car park finally reveals itself as a much quieter seating plan.

Until, of course, the lineup rolls out. This is still a space for experimentation, after all, not marketability. Some of the 40 designers got their hands on prints, some on childhood memories, and some on social commentary. Take it from Polina Kadilnikova, a Ukrainian womenswear student who won the first prize (voted by the public instead of a room full of industry eyes this time) with a collection shaped by displacement, where home is no longer a fixed point but a condition. Silhouettes hinted at armour, but never fully resolved into safety. The first model walked down the runway in a helmet and disguised kneecaps, and a tunic printed with a painted forest image, arms pinned in place, movement not an option.

Harley Angrabeit, who took home the H&M Sustainability Fashion Award (and kept our attention firmly glued), built a collection pulling from dancehall’s sweaty glamour, Ridley Road Market bargaining, and the proximity of church aunties watching over everything at once. A wooden hanger, scaled up to the size of a small car, carried both model and look down the runway. A jewelry stand was built into a garment just under the bust. Elsewhere, what looked like both Medusa’s head and an inflatable airplane pillow appeared at the hem of a skirt. Weirdly brilliant.

Yuki Naka, who also got his hands on that same award, managed to fashion garments from soap, bubbles and all. His collection began with a letter from his grandmother, remembered more for its smell than its words, pulling from domestic settings and sensory cues. In CSM, that translates into wearable dinner tables, outerwear in the size of fitting rooms, even bubbles. I imagine that same box full of letters holding childhood paintings too, and Finlay Maguire seems to lean into that logic. His collection pulls from those arguably ugly floral motifs on paper your mother used to receive after school. Colorful capes read almost like oversized rugs in motion, while wellies suggest the flowers were never ugly, just childish all along. Everyone got personal, including knitwear student Arora Nielson, whose Notes app mantra ended up on a jacquard mini dress. We hear you, Nielson. Steak, eggs, avocado, meditation, not mad at it.