.aesthetic talk
STIJN KOKS
*Fashion, Process, and the Power of Objects
written + interview SARAH ARENDTS
Stijn Koks builds worlds. Objects hold weight, fabric carries memory, silhouettes tell untold stories.
His work moves through instinct, shaped by process rather than control. Knights of Nostalgia extends this language—sci-fi headpieces, repurposed textures, the raw and the unreal. Film becomes a pulse, turning garments into atmospheres. Koks reworks discarded pieces, not to recycle, but to shift meaning. In this interview, he speaks about movement, material, and the tension between impulse and precision.
watch KNIGHTS OF NOSTALGIA
“It’s a childlike imagination. Playful, but with depth. Irony never outweighs sincerity.”
Stijn Koks speaks with Sarah Arendts
for LE MILE .Digital
Sarah Arendts
Your designs feel like relics of a past that never existed—surreal and nostalgic. Is your work about rewriting childhood or weaponizing it?
Stijn Koks
Weaponizing it. Reclaiming its imagination, but with a mature edge. It's about tapping into the raw, unfiltered emotions of that time—when everything was heightened, strange, and full of possibility—and turning them into something more potent, even unsettling. Harnessing childhood elements is not just a sweet reminder of the past, but a tool for imagining the future.
"Knights of Nostalgia" feels like a playground for the imagination. What’s the first thing you built when the idea hit you, and what did you destroy along the way?
I started with sci-fi-inspired headpieces, repurposing old cowhides and jeans—blending raw with refined. The goal was to create something that felt both nostalgic and futuristic? ‘Vintage sci-fi’ might be the best way to put it. I relied heavily on intuition throughout this collection, which sometimes led me to ideas that will never see the light of day. Still, I already have a million things I’d do differently next time, but I wouldn’t have reached that realization without going through this first. Because the process was so instinctive, editing became a constant push and pull—stripping things until the collection as a whole felt right (for now).
Fashion is often called armor, but your pieces feel more like portals. Are you dressing people to escape or confront the world?
I’d say confront, I don’t think there is much happiness in escaping. If I could spark a little imagination, that’d be great. It’s about navigating the complexities of the world, not running from them. There’s strength in facing the chaos head-on, and wearing something that makes you feel invincible. These pieces are tools for transformation, not retreat—focusing on things we can engage with, rather than escape from.
Walter van Beirendonck and Henrik Vibskov are both titans of the absurd. What lessons from their studios have you carried into your own chaos?
Mainly, the pace. At that level, creativity isn’t just about ideas—it’s intertwined with the business side of fashion. In art school, there’s endless room for absurdity, but in the industry, that space shrinks. Yet, they both find a way to make it work regardless. What intrigues me is the constant tension between artistic integrity and commercial viability. If you lean too much into what sells, you risk diluting your authenticity.
They were careful to preserve that balance. It reminds me of that Henry Ford quote: “If I had asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses.” I have zero interest in cars but that quote is cool.
Which designer or brand feels like a kindred spirit to your vision?
It shifts all the time but currently I like ERL. They have a nice, nostalgic, playful feel.
Your work demands a kind of physical interaction—it’s loud and textured. Do you think fashion in the metaverse can ever match the tactility of the real?
No. I’m currently in the middle of creating a large installation for my upcoming show, working with wooden branches and metal elements—letting the process take the lead. It’s all about problem-solving in real time, finding ways to connect and shape different materials as I go. I start with a general idea, but the execution is always shaped by the process itself. The same applies to my garments—the concept evolves as I dive deeper into creation. Along the way, you discover better ways to bring an idea to life, and materials often behave in unexpected ways. That kind of tactility simply doesn’t translate to the digital world. Sure, it’s fun to customize your metaverse avatar, but isn’t it cooler to be the actual avatar in real life?
Recycling, repurposing, rebuilding—your process feels part alchemy, part storytelling. Do you see discarded objects as ghosts waiting to be reanimated?
Absolutely. That’s where the idea of readymades comes in—transforming everyday objects, often discarded or overlooked, into something more profound just by shifting their context. A broken chair or a chandelier, for example, both hold certain references and could become vessels for something new—or something funny and unexpected, triggering a fresh perspective. That said, not everything carries that kind of value. Some things are just trash.
The film for "Knights of Nostalgia" is pure fantasy, but it’s also a manifesto. How do you use moving images to expand the language of your line?
The film for Knights of Nostalgia is almost the soul of the collection—like a visual pulse that injects life into the narrative. Moving images allow me to create an atmosphere that transcends static imagery or theusual fashion show format. Through film, the viewer can engage with the collection on a deeper, more visceral level. Fashion is fundamentally storytelling, but film gives that story a fluidity—it’s where fantasy and reality blend, and I get to play with those boundaries. It’s the ideal medium to expand the collection’s universe, capturing not just the look, but the mood, the atmosphere, and the symbolism. The movement, the soundtrack, the pacing—all contribute to turn the collection from something you wear into something you feel. Shoutout to the team for bringing this attitude to life.
There’s something wildly anarchic about pulling childhood toys into adult wardrobes. Are you reclaiming innocence, or are you throwing it into the fire?
I could never part ways with my action figure collection. Showing them off feels right, almost like paying tribute to a part of myself that shaped who I am today. I don’t think you ever truly outgrow your toys; they’re woven into the foundation of who you’ve become. The toys you played with as a kid reveal a lot about your personality, your interests, your imagination. So, why not embrace that? Incorporating them into adult life feels less like clinging to innocence and more like honoring the things that made you, you.
How do you stop irony from swallowing sincerity?
I’m always trying to strike a balance between kitsch, a bit of wittiness, and a level of maturity. I’m not interested in childishness, but rather in a childlike sense of imagination—something playful without losing depth. Back in art school, I was constantly experimenting, mocking certain aesthetics while exaggerating others, trying to find that sweet spot. It’s a careful process of navigating irony without letting it overpower the sincerity I want to preserve. So, I’d say it’s a fine line that I continue to explore.
Since your silhouettes blur edges and identities, breaking free from binaries, does gender even exist in your design vocabulary?
So, if I’m a rabbit walking into a local giraffe store, and I find this knitted balaclava made for zebras—it has two holes for ears, two for eyes. I have four legs, so it suits me as an oversized Raf Simons sweater. I’m walking out of the store with the zebra balaclava. I guess, as a designer, all I’m doing is giving suggestions based on how I feel at the time. A particular casting doesn’t exclude any other wearers—someone else might pull off the look even better. I can only encourage that.
What’s the last fashion show or collection that stopped you in your tracks, and why did it feel so electric?
I’m afraid I’m stating the obvious, but Maison Margiela’s Artisanal 2024 show was absolutely mental. Storytelling at its finest, and truly beautiful.
STIJN KOKS
Portrait
“There’s no happiness in escape. Strength comes from facing the chaos head-on. They’re tools for transformation.”
Stijn Koks speaks with Sarah Arendts
for LE MILE .Digital
credits
director JEROEN KOOISTRA
creative director STIJN KOKS
production company UNDERSCORE
producer WILLEM BEELAERTS VAN BLOKLAND
D.O.P. BOYD BAKEMA
1st AC TOM SELBECK
steadicam JARON JOOSTEN
gaffer BORIS PETERS
bestboy LENNERT ROIJACKERS
edit STAN VRIEND
grading BOYD BAKEMA
music TOM BRUINS
music mastering TIJMEN VAN STEKELENBURG
models
CARLOS KOK + MEGAN IRUSTA CORNET + KRISTJÁN STEINN KRISTJÁNSSON + COOSJE FROENTJES
styling assistant SOPHIE KOKS
production assistant JADE KLOET
all lookbook images seen by JELLE KOITER
