London pioneered fashion imagery, so where did all the work go?
We spoke with photographers, agents, producers and more to gain a better sense of why Paris overtook London as the industry’s epicentre.
By Ryan White
Earlier this year, two shows full of archival fashion imagery opened almost simultaneously in central London. First, a retrospective of The Face magazine at The National Portrait Gallery. Then, a week later, a survey of Leigh Bowery’s life at the Tate Modern.
It’s a funny coincidence. Bowery arrived in London in 1980, the same year The Face released its first issue. Both have quietly but meaningfully influenced culture and, years later, here they were, venerated by two of the city’s biggest art institutions in the same week.
Or perhaps it’s not a funny coincidence and, viewed through a more cynical lens, it’s an inevitability. Across the river, the Tate Britain’s The 80s: Photographing Britain reheated similar nostalgic feelings. So too, one imagines, will Blitz: the club that shaped the eighties at the Design Museum later this year, and The 90s, an exhibition of 90s fashion images at the Tate Modern in 2026.
Avant-garde style and photography are big business in London – or, at least, memories of them are. As for the work being made currently? Speaking with photographers, producers, agents, casting directors and editors over the past few months, the prevailing mood is one of frustration. Jobs are increasingly scarce – be it commercial or editorial – thus earning a living has never been more challenging. As a result, more and more people in the sector are moving to Paris – an unsustainable trend that’s already had repercussions across the channel. How did we get here?
The Face and Bowery and Blitz grew out of the cracks in London’s concrete. It wasn’t as if the government – Thatcher’s government, no less – intentionally created fertile conditions for groundbreaking culture to flourish. The Enterprise Allowance Scheme, for example, a government business investment that helped build the careers of some of Britain’s most successful artists, paving the way for the YBAs, didn’t necessarily set out to do that, but, back then, a bit of subsidy went a long way. The Youth Training Scheme, introduced in 1981, provided work experience to under-18s, and "almost everyone [at The Face] had come through that scheme,” photographer Glen Luchford told the NPG curator Sabina Jaskot-Gill.
Now, with many of the proverbial cracks in the concrete of Soho, Shoreditch, Bethnal Green, and Ladbroke Grove filled in and polished over, a lack of subsidy is one thing, a lack of culture is another. Squats and cheap flats, shops and independent boutiques, queer nightclubs and bars – all part of fashion photography’s ecosystem – have been razed in favour of sanitised, homogeneous and expensive businesses and property. So, before we even consider the more concrete causes and effects of this problem, it is worth acknowledging the slower shift that has shaped London over the past few years and its complete incompatibility with the kinds of nascent scenes and movements we now experience through the pictures on museum walls.
Gem Fletcher, an editor and critic who writes extensively on photography, underlines this lack of opportunity to learn and experiment as a significant factor in why photographers have struggled recently. “The cost-of-living crisis has directly impacted the development and production of personal work – something that not only enables photographers to keep developing their practice and garner opportunities but also pushes the industry forward as a whole,” she says, adding: “Collectively, everyone is scrambling through, confused about where they should go next.”
Brexit and Covid's double-punch
Commercial fashion photography was once a bedrock of working photographers in London. A bridge between the US and mainland Europe, until 2019, the city and its wealth of studio space had made an obvious place for brands to shoot their campaigns and other sundry visual projects. This changed once Britain left the EU at the beginning of 2020 – the cost and bureaucracy of shipping clothes, equipment and people growing exponentially. While France and, to a lesser extent, Italy treat fashion as a serious economic and strategic asset, the UK tends to position it more as a creative or cultural sector. Thus, there were no helpful policies in place to protect an incredibly global and volatile industry.
Perhaps Brexit wouldn't have been so seismic had it not been immediately exacerbated by Covid, grinding most international travel to a halt for two years. But it was, and the brands that once travelled regularly to London became accustomed to shooting locally instead. Simply put – much like those of us who no longer wanted to commute to our offices as much once restrictions were lifted – the big European brands got comfortable working from home, too. "It was the perfect storm," one anonymous photo agent tells me. "Over those two years, brands formed and built relationships with new, local artists instead."
Now, for photographers like Thurstan Redding, London has practically disappeared from the conversation. “I'd say I used to be 50/50; now I’m probably 90% abroad, 10% London.” For Redding, there's no ambiguity; it's Brexit. “Logistical flexibility is not a glam thing to discuss, but it is extremely important when talking about photo shoots. If you make it impossible and extremely time-consuming to put together quite a basic shoot, people are just not going to come, and fair enough. Shoots often get confirmed extremely last minute, so, when you add customs paperwork and fines, it’s just not viable anymore.”
Another photo agent who also wishes to remain anonymous holds a similar opinion. While they’ve seen a modest uptick in brands returning to London, “it’s still quite a way off pre-Covid numbers.” For them, what's truly lacking is an organised response. “We need representatives lobbying the government, from legislation change to introducing incentives to promote London as a destination for fashion brands. When you look at LFW, you have to ask why the few bigger brands we do have aren’t showing here. And what can we do to bring them back? During the 19th century, Britain was one of the leaders in textile manufacturing and trade. How do we rebuild this industry? Is the current global trade war and tariffs an opportunity for UK manufacturing to become relevant again?”
London Fashion Week’s decline
We don’t need to visit an exhibition about the 80s and 90s to remember a time when London’s fashion scene felt vital. In the 2010s, NEWGEN, at the height of its powers, propelled a conveyor belt of talented young designers into the industry each season – Meadham Kirchhoff, Claire Barrow, Gareth Pugh, Ryan Lo, Ashley Williams, Craig Green, Marques Almeida, Sibling. Then, towards the end of the decade, as tastes matured a little, brands like Wales Bonner, Simone Rocha, Molly Goddard, and Martine Rose brought refinement without losing a youthful, DIY energy. New York was commercial, Milan was traditional, and Paris was Paris, but London was electric, pushing the needle on fashion, casting and set design.
Now, London Fashion Week, as brought to you by Pull&Bear (no comment necessary), has lost its relevance; also willing to indulge in hagiography – remember REBEL: 30 Years of London Fashion at the Design Museum a couple of years ago? – whilst many of its current designers are at breaking point. As for the more established designers, they long ago bought a one-way Eurostar ticket.
For Massimiliano Di Battista, a Founding Partner & CEO MA+Group, while he’s optimistic about the strength of photography being made right, he also concedes that “there just aren’t enough brands here.” Just look at the cold, hard figures. Last season, Paris Fashion Week's ‘EMV’ (Earned Media Value) was around $500 million. London’s, by contrast, was around $24 million. No, London has never been a commercial behemoth like the other three, so, in this respect, it hasn’t changed vastly. But without the vitality of its emerging designers, either, what does it have?
The knock-on effect on Paris
So what next? Inexorably, as image-makers continue to move to Paris, competition for jobs will increase while rates will go down. According to some, that has been the case for a while. Kyra Sophie, a photographer and casting director, moved to London from Berlin in 2022, then to Paris not long after. Sure, there was more work, but well-paid jobs quickly began to dry up. “There are so many people now, it’s become way more competitive as a result,“ she says. “Clients know people are desperate, so they can charge less. There’s a different kind of pressure here. Now we’re all just having coffee and asking each other, ‘How’s your financial situation?’ And the answer is: fucked.”
Anecdotally, some stylists have noted a disproportionate number of assistants on sets these days, with no job too small or junior to turn down. “People are spending less in London for sure,” one producer who works at a big London production agency says, “so now Paris is oversaturated with incredible talent.”
Still, some I speak with temper their view with optimism. While he’s noticed photo studios in Paris being booked months in advance for the first time in his career, Ali Toth of stylist duo Ali & Aniko still thinks there’s been benefits to this influx to the city from London. “It now has a much more international spirit than ever before.” Plus, in the last few months, Toth has also seen a modest increase in work shot in London. “It’s particularly appealing to Asian or US clients, who value the historically higher work ethics and standards. Paris caters to European clients, while London offers a more attractive option for those coming from overseas.”
Losing faith is, ultimately, useless and, as Redding puts it, a lot can change in a short space of time. “Paris wasn’t really on the creative map ten years ago... and now it’s the epicentre. The pendulum could swing back toward London.” The magazine industry may not be thriving, but the creativity of print “is in a good place,” as Di Battista says. The second generation of The Face continues to make meaningful work, unburdened by its intimidating archive, and a recent crop of small independent mags – Middle Plane, Crosscurrent, Ton, Epoch Review – are proof that new ideas aren’t limited to the past.
The end of an era
Photography isn’t the only industry struggling with the speed at which the world – a world it helped shape – has left it behind. A New York magazine article recently argued that Hollywood had been hollowed out of Los Angeles following a series of challenges – Covid, yes, but also wildfires, strikes, and the boom and bust of streaming. “If you call up a couple dozen executives, agents, directors, producers, writers, actors, and below-the-line artists and ask about the scene on the ground right now, they’ll describe a city detached from its old rhythms and sense of purpose.” It’s hard not to draw a similar, albeit less dramatic, parallel here (whilst also noting that Hollywood is just as in thrall to its own history).
Speaking with Dazed recently, the journalist and filmmaker Adam Curtis considered the implications of the internet (and, increasingly, AI) constantly taking stuff from the past and playing it back to us on a loop. Though Curtis was describing culture on a macro level, he articulates a point that feels relevant here, too: “Maybe one of the things that is holding us back from the future is those endless fragments of the past, repeated back to us, which can never be assembled into a proper meaning.”
Yes, there are tangible structural and economic issues currently impeding image-makers. But the business of selling style and fantasy is also increasingly challenged by the scale of its own prior accomplishments. It is often said: don’t mortgage the future to pay for the present. But what about when the past – in the form of museum shows, glossy books and documentaries – starts overcompensating for the present?