Well, here we are together again in Molly Goddard’s studio, just Molly and me. We’re in a former gallery space, she’s telling me. The next-door neighbors packed up and left when the pandemic was sweeping in, so now she’s been able to annex a big extra space. The windows are open to Bethnal Green Road, the sun’s slanting in on the racks of her first pre-collection, and she’s pointing out a long white block that runs the length of a wall. “That’s our catwalk!” she says, from a distance. “We shot our look book here the other day on Liberty, our house model. Just five of us.”
The new normality feels like a return to optimistic simplicity around here. Goddard’s clothes are as cheerfully Goddard-y as ever, dresses and skirts made “in all the ways I can think of,” she says, with the smocking and ruffling techniques she developed as a student. The shirred polyester taffeta—this season in neon pink with burgundy velvet trims or inky blue flounces—is “so comfortable to wear because it just stretches with you,” she explains. “So you can sit down, lie about, do anything in it. I think that’s why people like it. Because you can wear these things in an everyday way, not just for parties.”
True to her hands-on resourcefulness, the designer decided to keep things going during the height of the lockdown. “We all worked remotely, doing fittings on ourselves, which was quite funny.” She runs a tight and friendly business. “I didn’t furlough anyone. I thought it’s important to maintain our relationships with all the people who we rely on, the fabric suppliers and the local London factories who managed to keep ticking over, with people taking work home.”
There’s knitwear too now—shrink-pleated stretchy sweaters and wool cardigans made in England. She’s also spent her time developing accessories: ruched bags made from her signature fabrics and solid but perky leopard-spot and emerald green creepers in collaboration with the British brand Underground. “They only do creepers. I love them—they’re the best!”
She’s mulling over what to do next. “Well, I’m thinking I want to make something really creative to show—and now we’ve got all this room, I think it’d be nice just to have a few people over to see it here. We could easily put out 10 tables, invite two people to sit at each of them at a nice distance from one another, and pull out the catwalk in the middle. Everyone could relax, have a chat and a glass of wine.”
Goddard’s at-home plan is tentative, but her eyes were glinting at the prospect. Who knows whether there will be a Fashion Week schedule, a circuit, even a date for things to start happening again? But then again, who cares? “ Really, I never meant to get into that whole Fashion Week thing of having huge shows and all the nightmare that goes with it,” she says. “Honestly, I’d love to get back to what we did at the beginning—just being able to do something that feels spontaneous and fun.”
