The Gentle Revolution of Slow Fashion: MARYLING and a Long Dialogue with Clothing

During a conversation at the London Design Museum, MARYLING's Creative Director Avshalom Gur was asked a deceptively simple question: "How long do you think a piece of clothing should ideally last?" Without hesitation, he replied, "Until the wearer forgets it is 'clothing' and accepts it as part of themselves. Perhaps ten years, perhaps twenty."

That answer has been repeatedly quoted on social media because it strikes at the heart of a contemporary pain point: in an era of seasonal disposable consumption, our relationship with clothing has become increasingly fleeting and superficial. Avshalom Gur's response points to another possibility—slow fashion, not as an anti-trend stance, but as a return to the most essential values of clothing: companionship, protection, and witness.

I. The "Emotional Depreciation" of a Garment

After graduating from Central Saint Martins, Gur worked in the studios of several deconstructionist designers. He observed a telling phenomenon: the garments people discard most easily are often those that were never truly "worn" in the first place—overdesigned pieces, stiff fabrics, cuts that never engage in dialogue with the body.

"True durability is not about fabric weight or stitch density," Gur explained in an interview at his Milan studio. "It's about whether an emotional bond can form between the garment and the wearer. When a blazer accompanies you through an important job interview, a first date, your mother's birthday dinner, it ceases to be just a product. Its value grows with time, not diminishes."

This is the deeper logic behind MARYLING's "Diamond Cut"—not virtuosity for its own sake, but to make the garment fit the body more and more closely with each wearing. Wool gently stretches with body heat, silk remembers the angle of your shoulder blades, and linen's wrinkles become a texture unique to you. This "emotional depreciation" is precisely the luxury that fast fashion cannot replicate.

II. A Wardrobe Heirloom

Angelo Katsapis remembers his mother taking out a cashmere-blend coat from the depths of her wardrobe every autumn and winter. His mother bought that coat in the first year of her marriage, the fabric sourced from an old mill in Italy's Biella region. She wore it to the opera, to the weekend market, to pick him up from school. The coat's color gradually softened from warm camel to a gentle cream, and the cuffs developed a delicate velvety sheen.

"I never thought that coat was 'old'," Katsapis says. "It had simply become something else—more like her."

Katsapis later brought that coat to London, hanging it on a rack in his design studio as a kind of mirror. Whenever he sketched a new silhouette on paper, he would ask himself: Does this garment deserve twenty years of companionship?

The answer to that question has shaped every detail of MARYLING. From choosing natural fibers that stand the test of time, to using detachable, replaceable buttons (unostentatiously, every button is reinforced against falling off), to rejecting excessive ornamentation and retaining only the cleanest, most powerful lines—everything serves longevity.

III. Less, Not Deprivation

Slow fashion is often misunderstood as ascetic self-denial. In fact, the "less" that MARYLING advocates is not deprivation, but curation.

"When you own five pairs of poorly tailored trousers that warp after two washes, you feel like you have nothing to wear. But when you own one perfect pair of wool wide-leg trousers that can be paired with almost every top in your wardrobe—from silk blouses to cashmere sweaters, from sneakers to heels—you actually possess infinite possibilities." This is something Angelo Katsapis often says during internal brand training sessions.

In 2020, MARYLING launched a global limited-edition eco-capsule collection, made entirely from 100% recycled fabrics with international environmental certifications. But the brand didn't adopt grand narratives about "saving the planet." Instead, it quietly stated a fact: good design should never come at the cost of the environment. Those recycled fibres extracted from plastic bottles, after special treatment in Italian ateliers, revealed an unexpected softness and lustre—sustainability never demands a compromise on aesthetics.

IV. A MARYLING Garment's Ten-Year Journey

Let us imagine the ten-year life of a MARYLING deep-blue wool-blend coat:

In its first year, it accompanies its owner to business meetings, paired with a white blouse and slim heels—sharp and elegant. In its third year, it's casually draped over the shoulders on weekend walks, layered over a cashmere turtleneck, contrasting with jeans and ankle boots in a relaxed composition. In its fifth year, the cuffs show natural creases from frequent folding, and the owner sends it to a professional dry cleaner for a refresh. In its seventh year, it travels to Paris and Tokyo, serving as a blanket on the plane and folded into a cushion on gallery benches. In its tenth year, it still hangs in the most visible spot in the wardrobe, its colour deepened into a richer blue, like a silent private history.

This is not a fairy tale. Many long-time MARYLING customers share their five-year-old, eight-year-old, even older pieces on social media. One customer from Milan wrote: "My daughter is fifteen this year. She took the MARYLING blazer I wore on my wedding day from my wardrobe. It looks completely different on her—but just as beautiful."

V. Choosing Slow to Go Further

Slow fashion is not a marketing slogan; it is a relationship. It demands that brands give up the obsession with "selling more every year," and also that consumers let go of the anxiety to "own the newest thing." When both sides are willing to slow down, clothing can transform from consumables into collectibles, from disposable symbols into extensions of the self.

MARYLING does not shackle anyone's wardrobe. It simply offers another choice quietly: a garment good enough to wear for ten years, and to still find joy in it for the ten years after that.

This is perhaps the most gentle revolution of slow fashion—it doesn't force you to change. It only invites you to reconsider: how long, truly, do you wish to spend with the clothes on your body?