AGRO Studio Autumn/Winter 2026

In a fever dream stitched from folklore and London after dark, George Oxby and Angus Cockram of AGRO Studio unveiled The Wanderers, a collection that turns the fairytale inside out. The duo, who are also partners, have built their world on contrast: instinct meets intellect, rebellion meets refinement, and beauty always has an edge. This isn’t the kind of story that ends with a glass slipper — it’s one where Little Red Riding Hood kills the wolf, skins him, and turns his pelt into outerwear.

That dark, romantic energy runs through every piece. Icelandic sheepskin becomes exquisite trim, and leather aviator jackets are cut close to the body, transforming protection into seduction. The narrative unfolds like a dance between hunter and hunted, with tailored sets and structured coats that suggest power as both armor and attraction. Floral gothic corsets shape the torso, while grungy lace slips hang loose, revealing as much as they conceal. There’s a sense of East London nightlife here - Hackney warehouse parties, candlelight flickering against concrete, danger and desire moving to the same beat.

In motion, the clothes come alive. Metallic sets shimmer like modern armor, ruched dresses drop at the waist with a kind of studied carelessness, and thick, untamed hair completes the picture less runway, more modern myth. Draped shawls and glittering jackets catch the light like twilight itself, while sequined black gowns and pink cocktail dresses shift easily between ballrooms and backrooms. Yet for all the shimmer, what lingers is the strength beneath it: silk tartan prints torn at the edges, exaggerated hips that jut forward like defiance, and shapes that celebrate the body as something powerful, not precious.

The Wanderers captures what AGRO does best - merging storytelling with construction, fantasy with ferocity. Founded in 2021, the studio has become one of London’s most intriguing voices in independent fashion, its aesthetic equal parts craftsmanship and chaos. With this collection, Oxby and Cockram prove that the fairytale isn’t dead, it just grew fangs, slipped into sequins, and went dancing in East London.