How Chitose Abe Became the Designer of 2025

This story is a complementary profile to the 2025 Hypebeast100, our annual recognition of the creatives shaping fashion and culture today. Explore the full Hypebeast100 list, award winners, and this year’s Next class of emerging designers here.

Naming a Designer of the Year in what may be the most dissected, debated, and think-pieced fashion year in recent memory was destined to spark discourse. What began last fall as a chaotic game of musical chairs, with creative directors exiting, reappearing, or disappearing entirely, became one of the most electrifying resets mainstream fashion has seen in years. New debuts dominated conversation, overshadowing everything except tariffs; suddenly every corner of the industry had a take.

As previews trickled out, the analysis that followed often eclipsed the only thing that truly matters: the clothes. So the question lingered over the entire year. What actually makes a designer the best when the industry itself is mid-reinvention? Is it the prestige of a new house appointment, or the metrics that have long been used as shorthand for success? Who is driving profit, expanding their footprint, or moving product despite a volatile retail climate? Or is it cultural gravity, the designers who hold the clearest grip on the now, whose front rows become a shorthand for whose vision matters most? At some point, it’s worth asking whether we, as observers, critics, creators, and fans, have drifted too close to the machinery of fashion and too far from the work itself.

For the last two and a half decades, Chitose Abe has built an empire that thrives outside that noise. She has expanded her vision independently, steadily, and with a clarity that resists the industry’s constant turbulence. And year after year, the clothes keep getting sharper. Her hybridized approach balances restraint and disruption, tradition and experimentation, sophistication and utility. What could easily become a visual gimmick in another designer’s hands becomes, under Abe, a study in intention. She has spent her career refining a language that mirrors the complexity of the world we live in: pieces that blend codes without collapsing them, garments that introduce new volumes without losing their precision, and silhouettes that evolve season after season without abandoning their roots.

It is perhaps this insistence on coherence, even as she evolves, that has built sacai’s following. Abe’s audience is broad, but the common thread is a sharp appreciation for design that rewards curiosity. People who wear sacai tend to recognize the labor behind a garment; they can feel the intelligence in the patterns, the weight of the fabrics, the movement of a sleeve that sits just off the shoulder but never distracts from the whole. Abe has shaped a world for people who want clothing that challenges them a little, yet still feels lived in. And in an era that prizes immediacy, her work invites a slower kind of attention.

sacai’s start to 2025 began with a grounded and almost meditative return to the brand’s foundations. The references were clear, the silhouettes familiar yet sharpened, and the energy unmistakably sacai. It was a reminder of how powerful a brand’s codes can be when they are built with intention. But the year did not stay quiet for long. What followed was a series of collaborations that showed how far Abe could stretch sacai’s hybrid vocabulary across apparel, footwear, and even the identities of her partners.

Consider the WTAPS collaboration, a study in discipline and proportion, where military language met sacai’s fluidity without either overpowering the other. Or the Nike x sacai Zegamadome, which merged several generations of Nike’s off-road silhouettes into something that felt new not because it announced itself loudly, but because it approached function with creativity. Then came The Classics, a distilled, crystalline view of sacai’s codes. The project reaffirmed something essential about Abe: she is not interested in nostalgia, only in clarity.

Add the Levi’s, UGG, and Carhartt collaborations, and the picture sharpens further. When filtered through Abe’s hands, familiar categories reveal new potential, not through spectacle but through exacting design decisions. In an industry where collaboration has become a marketing reflex, sacai uses it as a form of dialogue. The results feel less like product capsules and more like shared experiments, rooted in mutual respect.

Even sacai’s entry into the world of collectible culture this year felt aligned with its ethos. What could have been a playful detour became, instead, a demonstration of how adaptable sacai’s language has become. The project’s success was notable, but more important was how unmistakably sacai it remained. Abe’s instinct has always been to enter cultural moments without allowing them to define her. The brand appears in the world on its own terms, through its own codes, and never in pursuit of noise.

After a year of house appointments, creative-director debuts, and endless fashion discourse, revisiting sacai’s work felt like a palette cleanser. Abe has built, cut, reconstructed, and rebuilt sacai year after year, carrying the discipline of her early training and transforming it into a world entirely her own. Her work has reached a point where it no longer needs to announce itself to be understood; it simply needs to be worn. We caught up with Abe to reflect on what we consider one of sacai’s most defining years to date.

Twenty-five years in, sacai feels as forward facing as it did on day one. When you think about the brand’s trajectory, what part of sacai’s identity still feels unfinished to you and why does that excite you more than looking back?

Chitose Abe: Both in the past and now, I’ve always presented our collections with the confidence that they were the best I could do in that moment. Rather than looking back, I’m always focused on what’s next and on continuing to evolve. My curiosity goes beyond fashion — I’m constantly interested in things I don’t know yet and in what feels new to me. That curiosity is probably what excites me the most and keeps me moving forward, and it naturally feeds into my creative work.

You often describe instinct as your strongest guide. How do you decide which ideas feel true to sacai and which paths you will not follow?

Abe: Of course, sales are important, but more than that, I value my own sense and intuition — creating what I truly feel is good, and what I genuinely want to make. That’s why I don’t create anything I wouldn’t want to wear myself. I believe that this sensibility is communicated to the customer, and ultimately, it leads to sales as well.

Hybrid has become your signature vocabulary, yet you treat it like a living philosophy rather than a design trick. What new emotional or structural tension are you exploring through hybrid today that you could not have articulated at the beginning of your career?

Abe: When it comes to hybrid design, my approach has always been the same: every detail has meaning, even something as specific as where a pleat is placed. I’m constantly thinking about how to express, in my own way, the blending of different cultures and the idea that people aren’t defined by just one duality but have many different sides. That’s how I view “hybrid” from a broader perspective.

As we continue creating with this language, which has become our signature, I used to always want to look upward or ahead — to see the next view. But now, I’m more interested in looking sideways (besides me) or at different perspectives as well. Having a freer point of view has helped me better understand what sacai is, and what it can be.

sacai often reaches a balance between disruption and wearability. When you build a collection, how do you sense where that line should be and what tells you when you have pushed far enough?

Abe: We really care about the balance between stability and betrayal. With pieces like MA-1s, knits, and denim, which are part of sacai’s signature and items everyone already knows, we like to combine them with different elements or reinterpret them through new silhouettes. That way, there’s a sense of comfort, but also a subtle betrayal.

Each season has a different theme, but this balance in how we approach clothing design remains unchanged. I share this sensibility with the whole team, and we move forward through continuous discussions. When we all reach that same moment of feeling, “we want to wear this” and “this is the best version,” that’s when we know we’re there.

Collaboration has been a meaningful part of sacai’s evolution. This year alone saw several collaborations that felt just as much like sacai as the collaborating brand. What criteria help you understand which partners can expand your world and which ones would compromise it?

Abe: Some collaborations grow out of connections with people we consider family, while others happen because we’re fortunate enough to be approached. What they all have in common is that I only move forward if it’s something I genuinely find interesting and truly want to create. I never choose a partner just because something is guaranteed to sell.

When we do collaborate, we really value a 50/50 balance — respecting each other and building something together as equals. That mutual respect is why, even after the collaboration is over, they continue to support us.

This year saw sacai enter conversations that sit outside traditional fashion, from art toys to K-pop. How do you participate in cultural moments without bending toward them, and what protects the integrity of the sacai point of view when you do?

Abe: In every context, I try to maintain a sense of consistency in my creative work — and that applies to the cultural space as well. Sometimes collaborations grow out of existing relationships, and the projects we did this year with Joopiter and Pharrell Williams are good examples of that. Because we already knew each other well, I think we were able to preserve the sense of consistency that is so important to sacai.

You often return to the idea that clothes can give people courage. When you design a new silhouette, what signals tell you it carries that energy and will resonate far beyond the runway?

Abe: We often use the phrase “design built on everyday life.” For us, it reflects the idea that what we create should make the wearer feel just a little more confident than usual in their day-to-day life. That sensibility is something we really value. I hope that the energy behind our clothes doesn’t stop at fashion but also becomes a source of motivation in people’s everyday lives. When it comes to the collection, it’s something we build together with an incredible team — the clothes, the runway, everything — and I’m confident it will resonate with many people.

In a year defined by reinvention across the industry, sacai stayed grounded while still evolving. What do you feel is the clearest expression of who you are as a designer right now, and where do you hope that clarity takes sacai next?

Abe: I think it really comes down to intuition. When I’m creating or exploring something new, what matters most to me is whether I genuinely feel that “I want to wear this” or “I want to do this.” That instinct is what keeps sacai evolving, and it’s exactly what I want.