Arkadius, born Arkadiusz Weremczuk in 1969 in Lublin, Poland, is a Polish-born fashion designer known for his avant-garde and expressive designs. After moving to London, he studied fashion at Central Saint Martins and emerged in the early 2000s as a bold, experimental designer, gaining attention for his theatrical runway shows and daring collections. His work often blended themes of sexuality, nature, and cultural commentary, attracting international acclaim and coverage in major fashion magazines. While he eventually stepped away from the high-pressure world of fashion, Arkadius remains a respected figure in design, now dedicating his life to art and ecological projects in Brazil.
K.C: Your work is so versatile and explores many themes, from sex to death. Where did you draw your inspiration from?
A: You know, my inspirations were a mix of everything around me on a daily basis. I lived in London and actively participated in artistic events, openings, galleries, and art exhibitions. The nightlife in London also had a huge influence—it was really vibrant and completely crazy back then. Imagine that at the beginning of my career, I met Lee Bowery at the Heaven club. This was very significant for me because I came from provincial Poland, where there weren’t many artistic stimuli, and suddenly I was confronted with all of this. I was like a sponge, absorbing inspiration from everything around me.
K.C: Does sex play a role in your creative process as a fashion designer?
A: I feel that much of my artistic expression, particularly in what could be called erotic art, comes from nature. Most of my inspirations were drawn from flowers and orchids. There might have been some strange mixture of influences, but it was all very subconscious for me. Although I participated a bit in the nightlife of London, I was also somewhat afraid of it. I was more of an observer rather than a participant, as I found that scene quite scary. I enjoyed watching, but I wasn’t interested in being fucked by ten guys in a dungeon.That just wasn't my thing.
K.C: It reminds me of what Mowalola said about sexuality in her work. So, would you say your inspirations stemmed more from the atmosphere and aura surrounding sexuality, rather than from direct participation in the cruising scene or sexual activities?
A: Yes, I was more of a romantic, which is why Michael—my partner—won my heart. Our first date was a visit to the opera, which was completely different from the typical London approach.
K.C: How did you two meet?
A: I actually met Michael through what you’d call a personal ad. It was sort of like the print version of Grindr—though back then, it was in a magazine like Gay Times (if that’s still around). At that time, there were no apps or websites, no internet as we know it now. The only ways to meet someone were at a bar, a club, or through ads in magazines. It was a bit like Grindr but in print, where people would post ads looking to meet others.
K.C.: Where did you usually go out in London? Which spots had the most interesting parties back then?
A: Until around 1995, the main venue was Heaven. Then other locations emerged, and one of the most interesting events was The Rubber Ball, which took place once a year at Hammersmith Palais. I’m not sure if that event still exists.
K.C: Was fashion a form of expression or perhaps a way of dealing with difficult emotions for you?
A: It was definitely a form of expression. I wanted to create my manifesto against the things I dislike about the world, the things that hurt me, the uncomfortable truths. My work has always contained a lot of sarcasm, humor, and distance. To this day, I believe it's important to approach issues that remain relevant with a sense of distance and sarcasm.
K.C: What were your relationships like with other designers and people in the industry? Did you feel you fit into the fashion environment, or were you more of an outsider?
A: I didn’t feel like an outsider because, at that time, there were several designers doing truly avant-garde things, like Galliano, McQueen, Hussein Chalayan, and Andrew Groves. It was a very creative period with no taboo. You could talk about anything. Today, we have political correctness, which, in my opinion, stifles creativity. Back then, every topic was allowed; there was more freedom. As for friendships, I have a few lasting relationships, such as with Sarah Burton, who started at McQueen around the same time as I did. I had to leave to go back to college and make money because London was very expensive, and I already had private clients. The healthy competition between us was that when someone did something cool, others tried to outdo them. It was a very positive rivalry.
K.C: How did the media influence your image as a designer? Were they more of an ally or an adversary?
A: That’s a complicated question. On one hand, the media elevated my profile—there was a lot of coverage about me. On the other hand, it hurt me as a designer. A young designer without an investor, doing Fashion Week, was suddenly being compared to brands with multimillion-dollar budgets, like Chanel or Givenchy. Articles appeared in Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Elle—alongside those big brands was me, which was a huge honor. But then, customer expectations rose, and I couldn't compete with their budgets and business structures.
K.C: Tell me about your relationship with Isabella Blow. How did you meet, and what was your collaboration like?
A: I met Isabella through one of my private clients, who came from an aristocratic family but had little to do with fashion. She told me she had to introduce me to her cousin, who was interested in fashion. It turned out that cousin was Isabella Blow. We met at Philip Treacy’s house on Elizabeth Street, where she lived. I was very nervous, but the meeting went well—Isabella was thrilled with my designs, but even more that I was from Poland. Her husband, Detmar Blow, was a historian and believed Poland played a key role in the Battle of Britain. It was a very warm welcome. Isabella introduced me to the fashion world, connected me with McQueen, and facilitated an internship in his atelier, which wasn’t easy due to the huge waiting list. Thanks to her, my designs appeared in editorials for magazines like The Face, The Sunday Times, and Dutch. I was in my second year of studies, and my work was featured alongside brands like Givenchy, Christian Dior, and McQueen. It was an enormous opportunity.
K.C: And what do you remember about your internship with McQueen? Did you have the chance to work directly with him?
A: It was not possible to not work with him directly, as the atelier was located on the ground floor of his house in Hoxton Square, while he lived upstairs. It was a very intimate space with only a few people working there, including me, Sara, Bernhard Wilhelm, and Helen. We were just four of us, plus two in the office, including Trino Verkade, who now runs the Sarabande Foundation. The studio was small but incredibly creative. The area was still quite dodgy back then—I remember praying I'd make it back safely whenever I traveled there!
K.C: Hedi Slimane said that "to create is to destroy, but destruction must be based on a vision." I thought of you when I heard that. How do you relate to this in the context of your work and your decision to leave fashion?
A: I agree with that. Fashion is a very demanding and destructive business. I realized that it wasn’t worth sacrificing my life for more projects that might make me more unhappy, despite the fame and wealth. I decided to destroy what I had created and go my own way.
K.C: It’s said that you wanted to burn your projects, right?
A: Yes, I wanted to burn everything, but some things were saved. For eight years, my projects were stored in a container in Scotland. Unfortunately, due to moisture and insects, many of them were destroyed—I had to burn about half of them, and the rest was in very poor condition.
K.C: Is there anything currently exciting you in fashion? Or are there things you’d like to see less of?
A: Yes, there are designers whose work excites me a lot. Daniel Roseberry from Schiaparelli is definitely one—I love his work. I have always admired the work of Viktor & Rolf as well. Iris van Herpen is another person whose work I greatly appreciate. Of course, there are also other designers, like Pierpaolo Piccioli, who creates beautiful things for Valentino. It’s more classic fashion, but I can also appreciate the aesthetics of that kind of work, even though it doesn’t excite me as much as, for example, Roseberry’s creations.
K.C: Couture is often seen as a space for dreamers, while ready-to-wear leans toward business. You also seemed to have a more dreamer’s approach—you didn’t treat fashion solely as a business, but expressed yourself through your projects, fantasies, and inspirations, right?
A: Exactly. It was quite funny because when I did my first show at London Fashion Week—the “Lucina” collection—I thought that aside from five or six showpieces, the rest of the collection was quite commercial and wearable. However, it turned out that I didn’t sell a single item, apart from a few orders from private clients. Despite the collection being a massive media success, none of the big stores bought it. I was shocked because I thought it was really a commercial collection. I’ll never forget when American Vogue came for an interview with me, and André Leon Talley said, "Arkadius, you live in your own fantasy world, but that’s why I love you." It was very true—I believed the collection was commercial, and he said it wasn’t, but that’s exactly why they loved me.
K.C: And what do you say about your graduation collection at Central Saint Martins, “Seamen of the Gods”? That moment when the model threw flowers was truly exceptional. What are your memories from that show? What did you want to express through it?
A: The entire collection was inspired by the underwater world. The original idea was for there to be an aquarium with fish on the runway because the inspiration was the underwater world. However, in another class, Marian Pejoski also presented an installation with an aquarium full of fish. When we learned about this, we both had to change our plans to avoid accusations of plagiarism. At the last minute, I swapped the fish for flowers, which created an even more dramatic effect. The model started throwing flowers into the audience, and one of them hit Hilary Alexander, a well-known journalist from The Telegraph. This created an incredible story that I still remember today.
K.C: What are your future plans? I know you currently live in Brazil and focus more on nature. Has this always been a part of your work?
A: Yes, nature has always had a significant influence on my projects, particularly through flowers and subtleties inspired by the natural world. Now that I live in Brazil, I’ve created my sanctuary—a garden that is already vast and full of plants. I’m currently looking for more land for a new project, but prices on this island have risen significantly, much like in London 30 years ago. I want to create something like a botanical garden combined with an art gallery. In the meantime, I’m planting trees wherever I can and focusing on ecology. I also travel to places like the Amazon—where nature remains wild and untouched by humans.