Fishing is more than a hobby for Setchu’s Satoshi Kuwata—it’s a full-blown obsession. One might suspect he was a tiger fish in a past life, judging by the pride with which he presented, during a preview, a photo from a recent trip to Zimbabwe: Kuwata, beaming, tenderly cradling a formidable specimen of the toothy predator. He travels the world to reach the best fishing spots, and in Zimbabwe they’re near the Victoria Falls, where the Batoka tribe lives.
The Batoka women are master weavers, twisting palm fronds soaked in water to soften them into sculptural baskets. Kuwata was instantly hooked. Teaming up with LVMH Métiers d’Art—which supports both local artisans and the Batoka tribe through the Jafuta Foundation—he collaborated with the weavers to create a series of objects using a freeform wave-like construction, reminiscent of a similar Japanese random-weaving technique. The results were beautifully irregular, organically sculpted pieces that made their way into the show as decorative skirts, tops, or layered onto humongous trousers, part of Kuwata’s new approach to sizing that he called “no-size garments” that can fit any figure, size and body shape.
Even if the woven pieces weren’t exactly practical—more art than accessory—they spoke volumes about Kuwata’s obsession with cultural cross-breeding through lived experience and appreciation for craft. It’s the heart of Setchu, after all—a Japanese word meaning “fusion of cultures,” and it’s the subtext of Kuwata’s entire design practice. “I am a romantic, but not a fancy, Disney romantic. I think traveling is romance. Marco Polo, adventurous spirit,” said Kuwata at a preview. But people today travel too much everywhere, often with no purpose. “No, no. I have too much purpose. I always go fishing, visit a museum, talk to local people to make something beautiful together.”
A classically-trained tailoring savant, Kuwata keeps pushing shapes and structures, dialing up what he calls “playful functionality”—his hallmark blend of rigorous British-inflected construction and inventive Japanese whimsy. “I’m not keen on making a vast, broad offer,” he said. “I’m just going deeper into it.” Case in point: his origami-cut tailoring—a brilliant interpretation of Savile Row sculptural precision made into neat, foldable, travel-friendly specimens—still grounded the collection. This time, it came in shrunken proportions. Called piccolo origami, the flat-creased, fitted genderless blazer looked great styled over massive, no-size trousers slung low on the hips and held up by thin, skewed straps.