For the label’s five-year anniversary, Jackson Wiederhoeft presented “Manifesto” — a beautiful three act tragedy that let the pieces speak for themselves.
All photography by Paige Powell
What is a manifesto? And, more specifically, what is Jackson Wiederhoeft’s? Well, that might be up for interpretation.
Walking into the designer’s Spring/Summer 2025 presentation, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. An almost pitch black space, illuminated only by a singular spotlight shining down on a lone model, the atmosphere spoke louder in sound than in sight — as the subtle music of songbirds filled my ears, seemingly swirling around me, though never to be seen.
In the darkness, I found my seat — empty of any show notes. Speaking with the guests beside me, many of whom I’ve come to know through previous Wiederhoeft shows, it became clear that no, mine had not miraculously disappeared. There was simply no preamble for what we were about to witness. Knowing that, when it comes to Jackson Wiederhoeft, every detail is intentional, I grew more and more intrigued as the minutes passed before the metaphorical curtain opened.
The songbird call, it turns out, was that of the extinct Kauaʻi ʻōʻō — a Hawaiian family of birds whose heartbreaking story ends with the last creature left singing a mating call, unaware of its own solitude for over two years. Hauntingly, devastatingly, tragically, dramatically beautiful — holding onto love and never letting go of hope. All of the themes that a Wiederhoeft collection captures — all of the emotions it evokes.
Just like the bird, the model under the spotlight begins searching for someone or something, getting passed from dancer to dancer before, ultimately, returning to her resting place and sitting back down alone — opposite an empty chair. Dressed in a slightly less structured dress than Wiederhoeft is known for, a piece that jingles when in movement, she slowly shrivels to invisibility as models begin to walk around her in a breathtaking procession that tells a narrative through colour. Highlights included a shadow-printed viscose dress paired with hand-embroidered Opera gloves and a glass necklace, and a heavily appliqued look featuring more materials than it is possible to count – think Art Nouveau florals, glasses crystals, satin and matte ivory raffia, beading, and more. The black, hooded “tattoo dress” also demanded attention, adorned with metal sequins, crystals, and glass-cut beads – as did the mini babydoll dress with pink rocks and satin bows, worn with pink opera gloves.
“It is the dress you find in a vintage shop that’s tattered to pieces. You want to love it so much, but it’s rotted through.”
“The passage of time is very significant,” Jackson Wiederhoeft tells me backstage after the show. “And that’s something that is, I think, clear in this collection. Even the order of looks, we did it in a way we’ve never done, telling a colour story. It starts out with all these whites and blacks, almost brutalist and painful in a really beautiful way. And then devolving into these pastels that are just these really sad, beautiful things. It is the dress you find in a vintage shop that’s tattered to pieces. You want to love it so much, but it’s rotted through.”
It is fitting that the passage of time should be a central theme to the collection, as October will be five years since Jackson founded the Wiederhoeft label. “This is our fifth season that we’re doing [a show], which is like so hard to do as a small brand, to finance that. My team is three, four people. It’s hard, but it is the treasure of my life.”
“We did our first show two years ago in the gym on Mulberry Street. And you know what? It’s a lot of the same people. It’s a lot of the same collaborators.” He mentions Austin Goodwin, his creative co-director on choreography who has been working on the shows with him since his first. “We just see each other so clearly and fully. He’s always helping me translate these ideas I have.”
For the third and final act, 26 brides emerge in wedding gowns, with identical veils and corsetry, though each in a different size. “It’s our corset sizing program,” Wiederhoeft tells me. “We’re releasing that corset in 68 sizes, and that was 26 of them represented today on the runway, all different sizes. The idea is you can wear that look as is, but we’re also going to have all those sizes in our showrooms so people can come and understand what corset works well for them. I really want people to feel good about themselves and see themselves in their best light.” As they circle the central figure, they drop white roses on her lap like offerings — of which, eventually, she drops on the ground and walks away alone.
As I make my way outside and my eyes begin to readjust to the sunlight I almost forgot existed, I linger with other guests to compare thoughts. Some mention the eery uniformity of the brides, others the specificities of the embroidery. But if one thing is certain, it’s that – with no collection notes or written narrative – we each came to view the story through the lens of our individual experiences, self-reflection, and personal histories. We were left to connect with the lonely bird on our own terms. And we certainly did.
So perhaps that is the essence of the Manifesto of Wiederhoeft: to transport all who enter the world to a fantastical daydream, so avant-garde and otherworldly that it allows you to confront your most inner self, creating a safe space to figure out who you are and who you wish to be. Whether trying on a corset that fits perfectly to your body or sitting back to watch a theatrical performance that becomes a reflection of yourself, Wiederhoeft makes you feel like the main character of a tale you’re just beginning to embark upon. The pieces hold their own language, somewhat of a mystery to all of us who don’t call it our native tongue, yet universal nonetheless — speaking a million words without any explanation needed.
