Nothing you design is sacred until it’s legally protected

Why emerging designers need to stop winging it with IP and start lawyering up.

We need new roadmaps in fashion. Leaving design school with an uber-creative graduate collection, some Instagram clout, and an i-D feature is of little use if there isn’t good business nous underpinning it. With this in mind, we’ve partnered with AZ Academy, a Milan-based fashion course born out of the late Alber Elbaz’s AZ Factory – his brand turned fashion incubator – and overseen by Richemont, Creative Academy and Accademia Costume & Moda (ACM), to democratise access to its valuable lessons on how creative people can build commercially-successful brands. Read the eighth edition here.

By Amy Francombe

As a designer, you might get that bolt-of-lightning feeling – like the universe just dropped a fully-formed idea straight into your brain. A name. A logo. A silhouette no one’s seen before. You sketch it out, start telling friends, maybe even post a teaser on Instagram. You’re high on creative adrenaline. It feels completely, unshakably yours.

But here’s the comedown: what if that idea isn’t as unique as you thought? Or worse – what if it is and now it’s out in the wild, ripe for replication? The thrill of creating something from scratch often collides with a harsh reality: in the eyes of the law, nothing is sacred until it’s properly protected. Not even your own name.

“To have an awareness about IP [intellectual property] means being conscious of the fact that everything has already been invented,” says IP expert Beatrice Grifoni. “Nothing is truly new. There are only shades of novelty that can be added to a specific item.”

It’s a sobering truth for emerging designers who have been taught to chase originality like it’s gospel. You can pour your identity into a brand, only to discover that someone else has a claim on it – even if you’re using your own name. “I have many Beatrice Grifonis out there,” she says. “Even though my surname in Italy isn’t very common – there are only about 900 families with it – I still found three or four people with my name when I Googled myself.”

Beatrice is no stranger to how tangled and territorial the fashion world can get. She spent two decades working as in-house counsel for major fashion houses, including Warnaco (home to Calvin Klein) and Valentino. Today, Beatrice channels that experience into advising brands and teaching at AZ Academy, where she’s equipping the next generation of designers with the tools to protect their ideas from day one. Below, she shares her essential advice on how to approach IP with clarity, confidence, and zero illusions.

The myth of originality and why it’s not enough

In fashion, originality is considered sacred. Entire careers are built on the idea of doing something no one else has. But in legal terms, originality is a slippery illusion, and relying on it too blindly can cost you everything.

Designers often believe that once they’ve come up with a name, checked if the domain is free, secured the Instagram handle, and filed a registration, they’re good to go. But that early confidence can turn into a nightmare, especially when everything's already in motion. Imagine: you’ve named your brand, designed the logo, filed the trademark, and gone into production. Labels, tags, packaging – it’s all printed and ready to ship. You’re two weeks out from launch. And then you get hit with an opposition.

“During the six-month period after filing, the name is on public file,” Beatrice says. “Anyone can see it and oppose the registration. For example, they might say, ‘Hey, my brand has existed since 2015, and this new name sounds very similar. I don’t want confusion in the market.’ Your application might then be stopped.”

At that point, you might be financially frozen. “If the other brand wins and you’re already in production under that name, then you’re in real trouble,” she says. “You might have to refile under a different name and cancel everything you’ve already printed – labels, tags, anything bearing that brand name.” The irony is that these expensive mistakes often stem from trying to save money by skipping a critical early step: the search.

So what is “the search”, exactly? Also known as a clearance search or availability search, it’s a deep and professional sweep through trademark databases across multiple jurisdictions. Lawyers and IP agents use specialised tools and global databases to examine:

• Exact and near matches in various trademark classes

• Phonetic similarities (e.g., “Kaly” vs. “Cali”)

• Visual resemblances between wordmarks or logo

• Cultural or linguistic red flags in different markets

• Existing trademarks in related categories like fashion, cosmetics or retail

Even if your chosen name isn’t identical to another brand, it might be close enough to raise red flags. That’s what makes a proper trademark search so critical. A thorough search can help you sidestep future lawsuits, expensive rebrands, or delays at the worst possible moment. And if a legal expert signs off on it, they’re also taking on liability for that decision.

“This process takes time and carries a lot of responsibility,” says Beatrice. “If the agent gives you the green light, they are legally liable for what happens next. That’s why the search is expensive – because it has to be done right.” And yet, many designers still treat it like an optional – a nice-to-have, not a need-to-do. That assumption can end up costing far more than the search itself, she says.

What happens when you get copied?

Even with these safeguards in place, there might come a time when someone copies your work. What happens then?

The answer is messy and painful. And often, not what young designers want to hear. “Obviously, if you had the money, you could sue the brand,” says Beatrice. “But even major fashion companies struggle to get those products off the market in time. The whole counterfeit system is very slow compared to how fast fashion moves.”

In other words: by the time you get to court, the damage is usually done. The item has already been sold, shipped, or replaced by next week’s drop. Fast fashion brands are particularly slippery. “They release the item, sell a set number of pieces, and then it disappears. It’s very difficult to catch them in time,” she says. “Even if you succeed legally, the product’s no longer on shelves. The harm is already done.”

Even luxury brands – armed with in-house legal teams and hefty budgets – rarely pursue full-on design infringement cases. And when they do, it’s far from guaranteed they'll win. “If you claim infringement, the judge may not find the designs to be identical,” she explains. “There may be small changes that prevent your claim from succeeding. And even if the lawsuit is successful, the compensation is rarely meaningful.”

For young designers, this hits differently. “What they’re really feeling is betrayal,” Beatrice says. “They think: I put so much into that, and now someone’s selling it for cheap and I get nothing. Unfortunately, that feeling can’t always be repaired through a legal claim.”

Given the cost, speed, and emotional toll of a lawsuit, many designers opt for the court of public opinion instead. “What can have some success is calling it out on social media,” Beatrice says. “It doesn’t always work, especially with fast fashion brands who aren’t as reputation-sensitive. But with high-end luxury brands, it can make a difference. They care about their image.”

Still, she urges caution before jumping to conclusions or public accusations. “As a young designer, you have to be aware that it doesn’t necessarily mean someone saw your work and copied it. That’s only true in maybe 10% of cases.” Take fabrics, for instance. “Many young designers buy material from the same industrial suppliers,” says Grifoni. “These factories have catalogs or style books – off-the-shelf designs that any brand can choose from.”

Unless you pay for exclusivity, those fabrics are fair game. “If you don’t ask for exclusivity, then the factory can sell that same design to someone else. And that’s not considered copying in the market,” she says. “Fabric bought without exclusivity might cost €11 per metre. With exclusivity, it might be €20. So it becomes a matter of money.”

It’s a common scenario: a designer makes a dress in a beautiful jacquard, not realising that another brand is buying the same fabric to make trousers. Suddenly, both products hit the market, and people start yelling about theft. But technically, no one’s done anything wrong.

“You might think, My design is so distinctive, I don’t need exclusivity on the fabric. But if you don’t buy it, someone else can and often will,” Beatrice says. “The factory will tell you plainly: ‘It’s non-exclusive.’ These are small but critical technicalities that young designers often aren’t aware of.” And it’s not just fabric. Similar silhouettes, colour stories, or references can arise independently. “Designers often arrive at the same idea on their own. When I investigate these situations, only about 10% are true cases of copying. The rest are usually coincidences or shared sourcing.”

That doesn’t make it any less frustrating – but it does mean designers need to examine situations clearly and ask the right legal questions before reacting emotionally.

Legal literacy = creative power

If all of this sounds intimidating, it’s because it is. But that’s no excuse to bury your head in the sand. “These young designers are entering a pool full of sharks,” Grifoni says. “They have to be prepared.”

The good news, however, is that they don’t have to do it alone, and the help is more accessible than many think. “One thing I always try to tell them is: ask,” Beatrice says. “When I talk to large legal entities or firms, I often receive very good feedback. Many are willing to do a first trademark search for free, or for a very small fee. Even lawyers – if you explain your situation – might offer favourable rates for the first year or two. Sometimes they’ll even say, ‘We believe in your potential. We’ll take a symbolic share in your company, or defer payment while you grow.’”

Legal professionals can be allies, partners, and even early-stage investors. But that relationship only works if designers come to the table informed and open. And that’s the crux of the problem – many simply don’t know where to start. “Some designers believe they can quickly draft a contract themselves, or browse online to check if a name is available,” Beatrice says. “But it takes years of practice to know how to draft legal documents properly. Just like designing a collection, it’s a skill set built over time.”

That misunderstanding – that legal work is intuitive, or that it can be picked up casually – can have serious consequences. “Some students I met had registered their brand name, but not in all the relevant classes,” she says. “Or they registered in one country, but never checked if they were clear to operate internationally. These details matter. And missing them can come back to bite you later.”

The most dangerous myth about IP protection is that it can be tacked on later or done DIY. “It’s a common misunderstanding that the legal part is easy, or easy to add to your personal knowledge,” Beatrice says. “But I would rather risk sounding unpleasant than give vague advice that leads to a disaster. A poorly drafted contract or misfiled trademark can derail a business before it even begins.”

Building a brand may be one of the most personal things a designer can do. After all, it’s the purest expression of your vision, your taste, your voice. But in a global fashion industry shaped by speed, saturation, and imitation, you need to be prepared. If you don’t protect your ideas, someone else will claim them – or worse, profit from them. As Beatrice says, get a lawyer, and get it fast.