Next Gen Reflections: Mantra for a Season of Rebirth and Transformation.
- Thu Le
- 4 hours ago
- 6 min read
Next Gen Reflections is a series of articles written by members of Next Gen Assembly, an impactful advocacy programme for talented students and early-career professionals, led by Global Fashion Agenda and Centre for Sustainable Fashion’s Fashion Values programme, supported by Target. This article was written by 2025 member Thu Le.
Nature-centered design is not innovation — it is memory.
Remember how you once lived within the seasons, not above them.
Regeneration is my oldest language.
Where you see decay, I see rebirth.
Rebirth begins when you remember where you come from.
Rebirth manifesto (nature’s point of view), by Vibhuti Amin, 2025
1. Of a river
"Ha" - the character of my middle name, means river. It was taken from “Ha Noi” - meaning Inside Rivers, the Vietnamese capital where I was born and raised. The name of my dear city reflects its geographical features: a metropolis built upon maroon sediments of the Red River, not to mention its famous natural lakes, big and small, peppering the city map with spots of blue.
I grew up between bodies of water. Vietnam is a rice-growing powerhouse with intricate river systems and an extensive coastline that envelopes its territory in three directions: East, South, and Southwest. The history of my country is entwined with aquaculture and marine life: our livelihood, our hard-won battles against invaders, the folktales that raise our children, and the lullabies that soothe them to sleep.
During my daily commute along West Lake in Hanoi, I often daydream that the lake would overflow and submerge the whole city underwater. Yet this silly fantasy of mine is the heartbreaking reality of millions of Vietnamese people. According to the World Bank (2021), “Climate change is likely to increase the population affected by fluvial flooding, projected to be in the range of 3–9 million people by 2035–2044 depending on the emissions pathway”. Vietnam joins Bangladesh as one of the two countries most at-risk from flooding, and among the top 5 most vulnerable countries to climate change and rising sea levels. This fuels me to design holistic, robust, and versatile strategies against fluvial flooding for my homeland. This was my starting point to pursue sustainable fashion.
2. To live within the seasons
True creation grows from reciprocity, not conquest.
You must weave your work into my cycles, not unravel them.
Rebirth manifesto (nature’s point of view), by Vibhuti Amin, 2025
Vietnam has four seasons: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.
We also have 24 microseasons – two for each month, to mark the transition of nature’s cycle.
The 24 solar terms (Tiết Khí), originating from ancient agricultural practices, divide the year into 24 distinct, roughly 15-day microseasons based on the sun's position. These terms guide agricultural work, spanning from Lập Xuân (Start of Spring, Feb 4) to Đại Hàn (Greater Cold, Jan 20), marking changes in weather, moisture, and temperature.
We observe seasons to become in tune with Nature. We see the sky changing colour, lakes and dams filling up, the sound of rain on roofs, and we know the seasons are shifting - the changes are small, but noticeable to those who see them. We watch, we record, we know the time is right, then we do our work accordingly.
Fashion collections also follow the seasons. Spring – Summer, Autumn – Winter. Prefall. Back to School. Resort/Cruise. Working as a fashion designer, I remember being drowned in the demand for creative output - I loathe how fast fashion has become, how quickly trends change. I cannot keep up with the trends. I have become fatigued. I have lost track of Time.
I approach fashion as product design. I use this comparison all the time: why can a furniture design firm spend a few years developing and prototyping one chair, then sell it for the next 5 or 10 years, while I cannot do the same with fashion? Can I do that with fashion?
Carrying that question in mind, I applied to the Next Gen Assembly (NGA) programme, searching for an alternative experience to the current trend-obsessed, frenzied fashion industry. During the 2025 Global Fashion Summit in Copenhagen, Denmark, we NGA members were always surrounded by nature. Our little working corner was blessed with a view of the nearby park and lake, and I got to experience every ray of sun, every gust of wind, and even the sudden Copenhagen rain. The walkways along the river, where I spent most of the free time I had between conference sessions, reminded me deeply of Hanoi, so much so that I couldn't help but feel right at home. The urban design and development of Hanoi and Copenhagen reflect that, across different cultures, we have traditionally built our cities and villages along rivers and coastlines —following the water, tracing its path, feeling its undercurrent, and staying within the prosperous deltas. We designed our habitat in line with Mother Nature. We worked around her parameters, making compromises, syncing our lives with the ebbs and flows of her tidal cycle. The colours of our fabrics were pigments extracted from soil and plants; our weaving patterns were emulations of flora and fauna.
Yet at some point in history, we stumbled. We forgot that Mother Nature is the centre and the foundation of our world, that we are a small part of a much larger system, and that Nature and all other living beings are our cohabitants. Nature is the original maker, the greatest master of Creation. We must invite Mother Nature back to the design table and ask: What would she do? This question was how I developed the second point of the NGA 2025 Manifesto – “using design as a tool for transformation”. Co-created with my fellow cohort members, the manifesto has now become my professional “North Star”. The nature-centered approach finally returns the designer’s work to its original purpose: responding to seasonal shifts and human needs rather than arbitrary fashion trends.
3. A kid must not fear Water
On learning how to Float and overcome the fear of Drowning.
The comparison between fashion and furniture design stayed with me throughout my time in Denmark. Copenhagen seemed to speak through its chairs – diverse in form, united in their ergonomic grace – scattered across hotel lobbies and cafés like quiet lessons in design. The most striking moment came at the Design Museum Denmark, in the “Danish Chair – an International Affair” exhibition: a tunnel-like gallery where chairs lined the walls from floor to ceiling, arranged in a genealogy of design. Each piece stood beside its variations, revealing a lineage of ideas passed from one maker to the next. At the entrance, a Ming dynasty armchair was displayed with a note on how its construction helped shape the world-renowned Danish chair.
Orla Mølgaard-Nielsen acquired the Chinese “Hanging Lantern Chair” in 1938, while serving as head of the School of Furniture Design. The chair features a knockdown construction that allows it to be separated into several pieces for shipping. This unique approach to furniture design directly influenced some of Denmark’s most important designers, such as Wegner and Børge Mogensen.
I reflected on how this antique Chinese chair had journeyed across centuries; crossing oceans, passing through countless hands. Each generation of designers adapted it, reshaping its form to meet new needs and technologies, until it became the next chair, fit for modern life. Much like the Ship of Theseus, the chair endures by embracing transformation. Each alteration is a plank replaced; each innovation a rope renewed. What appears to be a paradox – how something can remain itself when everything has changed – reveals the quiet strength of reinvention instead.
Fashion, too, can embody this regenerative principle. Our bodies shed cells, our minds evolve, our lives shift course, and fashion must transform alongside us. Through endless renewal, something essential persists: the story, the spirit, the continuity of being. Like the ship, like the chair, fashion endures by weaving changes into its very fabric. Regeneration is not the loss of identity; it is the promise of becoming, again and again.
4. It takes Sisyphean force to build the ship of Theseus
How I’m building a raft and sailing out to the unknown waters.
The term “Sisyphean force” refers to an effort or energy that feels endless, repetitive – a continuous effort with no lasting result – like pushing against something that will always reset. It draws from the myth of Sisyphus, condemned to roll a boulder uphill only for it to fall back down eternally.
The world is changing. I lay down my body and let it fall apart. I pick up pieces of myself that I love, I hold firmly and carry them close, I carry them still. I remember that I am a child of Rivers. I am coming home to the Sea.