Wearing Your Heart On Your Sleeve: A Profile of Haseeb Hassan

You don’t have to know fashion to get this. But some clothes tell real stories: about family, home, and finding your place when you’ve grown up between two worlds. His clothes aren’t just for the runway. They’re about where we come from, what we hold on to, and how we make sense of it all.

Not every graduate from Central Saint Martins emerges with a voice; in fact, many emerge with noise. Haseeb Hassan, a British-Pakistani just out of Central Saint Martins, isn’t trying to impress you; he's working through something real. His collection is deeply personal without being indulgent, crafted with both care and control. It doesn’t scream for attention; it earns it, quietly. At a time when fashion is obsessed with self-branding, one can spot sincerity in clothes.

We spoke to Haseeb Hassan about what drives his work, not just the materials and silhouettes, but the personal histories, cultural contradictions, and emotional labor stitched into every piece.

"My collection is inspired by the clashing nature of my dual upbringing and my two homes, London and Pakistan, where I was born," the designer begins. "It explores the experience of diaspora, identity, and belonging. It weaves the chaos and beauty of those surroundings into a patchwork of identities."

The collection began with a feeling. Or more precisely, a memory. Of growing up between two homes, two cultures, two codes of dressing. The chaos and poetry of that duality became the conceptual core.

That word “ patchwork” holds both metaphorical and literal weight in the collection. Garments are constructed from repurposed menswear shirting fabrics. This wasn’t just an aesthetic decision, it was conceptual too.

"I wanted to reference the rules of tailoring and structure through fabric, but break those rules in silhouette and fit," they explain. "I was thinking about how tradition, structure, and control show up in both clothing and our personal identities, and how to rework that."

Leather also makes an appearance, but not in the way you’d expect. Here, it’s laser-engraved with traditional Pakistani motifs. A meeting of ancestral design and modern technique.

"Leather has this connotation of something defiant and unyielding, which is why I wanted to soften it. To engrave it, literally, with memory," the designer says. "It’s a material that speaks to both resilience and rebellion."

There’s a sustainability story here too, but it’s told subtly. The reclaimed textiles are a nod to South Asian practices of reuse and reinvention. Nothing is wasted. Every thread has a past life.

"It wasn’t about trends. It was about how in our culture, repurposing is a norm. Our mothers have done it for years. It’s an aesthetic and a practice I grew up with."

What grounds the collection emotionally is the designer’s decision to open with a silhouette rooted in memory.

"The first look in the collection is a shalwar kameez," he tells us. "It’s what I always saw my mother wearing growing up, and she still wears it now. It felt right to begin with something so familiar, something that instantly grounded the collection in my personal story."

That memory led to a single photograph that became the cornerstone of the research process: their mother in a traditional shalwar kameez layered under a masculine-cut blazer.

"There was something so intimate about that contrast. It wasn’t styled. It was just how she was dressed that day. But it stuck with me," they say. "The softness and fluidity of South Asian dress codes against the structure and formality of Western tailoring. That image became the anchor for everything."

"I didn’t set out to make a collection about gender, but when I looked at that photo, I started thinking about how clothing carries authority, how it’s gendered, how it’s passed down," the designer reflects. "And I think the collection became a response to that, without being overt or didactic."

So much of the collection lives in tension. Between softness and structure. Tradition and subversion. Past and present. The pattern cutting, while rooted in emotion, also drew from rigorous research."I was really influenced by Madame Grès and her understanding of drape. That level of craft, that respect for fabric, it felt important."

But technique didn’t eclipse memory. One of the turning points in the process was returning to Pakistan to work with local artisans. "Working with the craftsmen in Pakistan really opened my eyes to just how much talent and skill exists there. I’d grown up around it, but seeing it up close in a professional setting made me appreciate it on a whole new level," they say. "It was humbling. It made me realize how much I didn’t know. I want to keep learning from that tradition. Not just to reference it, but to collaborate with it."

The biggest challenge? Balance.

"I was constantly asking myself if the collection felt too traditional, or too Western. It was definitely a tricky balance to find," they admit. "I didn’t really design with a global audience in mind. I designed what felt honest to me. And in the end, that honesty seemed to resonate the most."

Resonate it did. Especially within their own community. "A lot of people shared how they saw parts of themselves in the collection. Like the mix of clothing they’d see at home or the quiet blending of identities we often don’t talk about," they say. "It opened space to reflect on how we carry our heritage and how that shows up in our everyday lives."

So, what would they want a stranger to take away from the work?

"I’d hope they understand that the work comes from a personal place. It’s not just about clothes. It’s about memory, identity, and navigating the in-between spaces of culture, home, and belonging. Even if someone doesn’t share my background, I’d want them to feel the emotion behind the pieces, the quiet strength, the softness, the tension."

Looking ahead, the designer wants to continue working across disciplines, especially film."I love the storytelling of filmmakers like Mira Nair and Saim Sadiq. Their work is visually rich and emotionally layered. I’d love to collaborate on something where the clothing becomes part of the narrative world."

For young creatives navigating their own dualities, the designer offers this:

"Be persistent. Seriously, that’s half the battle. And be a little obsessive about your craft, whatever it is. I didn’t come from a fashion background. When I got into CSM and told my parents, they didn’t really understand what that meant. It wasn’t until I landed a job at JW Anderson during my degree that they began to see it differently. If I hadn’t stuck with it, if I hadn’t kept pushing despite the uncertainty, none of it would have happened. So my advice is: trust your instincts. Put in the work. Take up space. Your story is worth telling."