Before his passing in 2021 at the age of 41, Virgil Abloh was frequently called as the most significant fashion designer of his generation. Not exactly the most technical—far from it. Even during his tenure at Louis Vuitton, where he set a precedent as the first Black man to direct the house's men's collection in 2018, he leaned toward printing on T-shirts over tailoring. But as a mainstream-savvy polymath who approached fashion with a teenager's enthusiasm, his democratic interpretation of streetwear worked to make accessible the exclusive world of fashion to the next generation like him who had traditionally shut out, whether he was putting his stamp on Ikea rugs or designer accessories.
Pop-culture polymath … portrait of Virgil Abloh.
The scale of his legacy on design can't assessed in physical items, but The Codes exhibition, the premier display devoted entirely to the deceased fashion designer's massive 20,000-item archive, shows that he was as much a insatiable accumulator of items—the eponymous codes—as he was a designer of them.
Arranged by Abloh's collaborators Chloe and Mahfuz Sultan along with his wife, Shannon, this dual-floor exhibition uses his personal effects to illustrate his journey from the child of Ghanaian immigrants in Illinois to creative, graphic designer, DJ, and finally one of the biggest designers in the world.
The layout evokes a thrift store. Heaps of neatly arranged Off-White T-shirts and sneaker partnerships sit alongside paintbrushes, cutting instruments, and old computers. A pair of Nike Air Jordan 1s have been inverted, while one of his designer bags imprinted with the word “sculpture” (speech marks were one of his design hallmarks) sits by itself on a stand.
The more engaging installations include his workspace at Louis Vuitton (he well-knownly called his phone as his desk) and a full-size DJ booth; testament of his wide appeal, growing up in Illinois in the millennial era, his stage name back then was Flat White.
The guidance is sparse, and while some of the more enigmatic inclusions—multiple USB sticks and mixtapes in glass vitrines—will only make sense to his most devoted followers, it is a fascinating look into the mind of a late millennial developing in a consumer society before TikTok.
Intense … some of the objects on display at the exhibition.
At times it can feel excessive, but the structured layout is also how Abloh functioned. He would document his discussions with journalists on tapes which he preserved in order to re-examine and pore over as his work progressed. The tapes are probably among the unshown items still in holding which—judging by the turnout and lines outside—will likely see the light of day in upcoming shows.
Abloh's period at Louis Vuitton was widely praised but it was his partnerships with international labels which transcended the attraction of his fashion design, treating each product—a travel accessory, a athletic shoe, the earlier noted Evian bottles—as if he was referencing a track. This stemmed from his “3% approach”—the concept that you could produce a fresh concept by modifying an original by just 3%.
Debuting for just 10 days during PFW at the Grand Palais—scarcity hype was a very Ablohian strategy—the scheduled lines outside on its opening day indicate it wasn't simply the hottest ticket in town, but that it was absurd to think that Abloh's impact would simply fade from fashion's slipstream after his death.
