Less is More

Linda Loppa On Revolutionizing Fashion Education, Embracing Creativity, and The Power of Personal Dialogue

“Contemporary art has its home, contemporary fashion is homeless,” notes Loppa Linda in her now iconic The New Fashion Container Masterplan, a project born as a reaction and an alternative to expensive and time-consuming fashion weeks, fashion fairs, and fashion exhibitions.

Linda Loppa is a minimalist—but in the very essence of the word: one who lives life stripped to its essentials. One of fashion education's most influential figures, she has helped shape the careers of countless designers who now helm major fashion houses. As the former head of the fashion department at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp—where she taught for over two decades—Loppa transformed the Belgian city into the iconic fashion hub we know today, nurturing talents who would go on to redefine the contemporary fashion zeitgeist. Later, she would go on to teach the art and science of fashion as Director of Polimoda International Institute of Fashion Design & Marketing in Florence, Italy, from 2007-2015, followed by eight years as Advisor for Strategy and Vision and member of the board of Polimoda Institute.

During her time as the Academy's head, Loppa guided the careers of several notable designers, including Veronique Branquinho, Haider Ackermann, Kris Van Assche, and Demna Gvasalia. She also played a formative role in Raf Simons' development by arranging for him to study the fundamentals of tailoring under her father's instruction

Remarkably, Loppa has worn many hats: curator, retailer, museum director, and founder of the Linda Loppa Factory, a platform dedicated to unifying fashion with other creative arts. As one of the Business of Fashion 500 Hall of Fame since 2014, she radically envisions fashion not only as a commercial activity, but rather as a “cultural expression of human behaviour, an expression of language and body language with the scope of bringing joy and satisfaction to people’s lives”.

In her interview for The StyleTitle, the so-called First Lady of Antwerp fashion shares insights on radical fashion education, the role of social media in creativity, and why enjoying emptiness might be the key to clear thinking in our visually overloaded world.

You mentioned studying at the Academy of Fine Arts during the 60s and 70s. Can you tell me about that formative period?

The preceding years were extremely important for my personal development as a creative, young girl living through the 60s and 70s. It was quite a provocative moment, I was wearing mini skirts and false lashes like Twiggy and all that. It was a perfect time for me to start studying at the Academy of Fine Arts. I thought of becoming an artist, but I chose fashion because my parents, my father, and my grandfather were tailors. We had a men's wear tailoring business and a shop, and it certainly influenced my decision to work in fashion. I was also fortunate to have Madame Prijot as the director of the course, a fascinating woman who made me feel immediately at ease in the fashion department.

I've been thinking about what you mentioned on your website for the Linda Loppa Factory—that you aim for a unification of fashion and other creative arts. How do you see the mission of this platform?

The Factory aims to bring creative minds, critical minds, thinkers, and doers together—because we can write, but if you're not practicing it, fashion is difficult to fully perceive. I was lucky to work in jobs that fueled my career and always added my personal touch to everything. I loved every role I played in the fashion world, and I still feel that same energy today, working from home, writing, connecting, and conversing. My mind craves stimulation; it's through dialogue and human connection that my creativity comes alive.

You've done so many things—curatorial work, teaching, personal work, your platform, writing books. Let me focus on education. What would radical fashion education look like from your experience if we changed everything?

If we imagine we transform everything else about education, the one element we must preserve is personal dialogue between teacher and student. Students are at the beginning of what will become long careers. They're growing, curious, and navigating a world full of tools like social media that previous generations never had.

What I've always done and continue to do is engage in intense dialogue with each person. There's no written formula for building a successful fashion department since every individual requires a different approach. As a teacher, you must focus completely on understanding the person sitting before you, and it's incredibly demanding work. Without that focus, you're just talking about yourself, which serves no one. Working together to discover solutions that fit each student's unique potential then becomes a form of collaborative psychological exploration.

Many new generation designers who are now making careers in the spotlight were your students. This must be liberating to see them flourish.

All of my former students are working now—every single one. They're not all fashion designers, but that's exactly the point. Some work in PR, others as assistants, and some have launched labels outside traditional design. Every role in fashion matters.

What a fashion school must deliver are independent thinkers, regardless of which path they ultimately choose. The goal isn't to produce cookie-cutter designers, it's to develop people who can think critically and creatively about whatever corner of the industry they find themselves in.

I'm doing my PhD right now in fashion, and I appreciate this type of approach because not everyone treats students like that.

"Students" isn't even the right word. You have individuals in the classroom, people who want to develop themselves and unlock their creative potential. The entire process revolves around dialogue: sitting with the person in front of you, discovering what's in their mind, identifying their possibilities, recognizing their weaknesses, and seeing where they need strengthening. You might find a talented person who's simply missing certain skills.

It's crucial that the teacher—I usually sat beside them rather than across a table because I dislike that confrontational setup—can act like a friend searching for solutions along with the individual. The most challenging moments come when things aren't working, when creativity seems blocked. You have to understand why and explore solutions through different approaches, other fields, and alternative creative pathways.

Teaching isn't easy because you must simultaneously understand the person beside you and work collaboratively toward solutions while maintaining your critical role as an educator. You can't accept everything as perfectly fine. Sometimes you have to say, "This isn't going to work," and then explain exactly why. A teacher needs many different skills to navigate this delicate balance.

In your infamous New Fashion Container project, you propose a reset in the fashion industry. What does a healthy fashion system mean to you?

Fashion is a complex beast; you may either embrace it or reject it, but either way, you must find your path inside this intricate system. It's difficult to grasp in its entirety, and your approach depends entirely on your skills and ambitions.

If your goal is to become a world-class designer helming an exceptional team, like many of my students have done, you must know it’s a lengthy process that must be taken step by step. Many young people try to rush it, but building something meaningful takes time. Even the destination isn't always clear from the start.

As for me, I never planned my career in detail. I create, and then opportunities emerge: "Linda, can you do this exhibition?" or "We have a museum that needs reimagining—are you interested?" I didn't set out to become a museum director or curator from the start but these possibilities appeared because people recognized certain qualities in me—work ethic, fresh ideas, and the ability to execute them. That's how careers unfold: through consistent work and readiness to seize unexpected opportunities.

Do you think social media helps in promoting someone's work or helps young designers make careers, or are they sometimes an obstacle?

We have a love-hate relationship with social media, but it's become essential, a reality we must accept and learn to navigate because this is how today's world operates. At its best, social media fulfills its promise of being truly social, bringing people together in meaningful ways.

I maintain my Instagram account, and while it's not essential to my work, it keeps me engaged. Some days ago, I posted "What drives you to fashion?" as an open poll, and people responded with thoughtful answers. That interaction combats isolation—especially when working from home, these digital conversations with you and others create a sense of community I genuinely value.

I don't struggle with social media; I see it as genuinely beneficial. It introduces me to people I would never have encountered otherwise. I discover interesting collections, fascinating projects from around the world, and find myself genuinely enjoying these discoveries. Rather than complicating my life, it simplifies it by expanding my connections and inspiring new ideas.

What projects are you planning for the future?

I'm invited to Budapest in September, and I'm excited about it. My goal is always the same: to discover new people and ideas, to share knowledge, and to build connections. My community keeps expanding, which energizes me. I never experience boredom.

I'm currently writing a book that explores different topics, ideals, and intentions. When I begin writing, I become completely absorbed in the process. It's like having an intimate conversation with myself and my ideas. The act of writing becomes another form of dialogue, similar to teaching or connecting on social media, just more solitary and reflective.

What thinkers and artists outside fashion have influenced you and your approach?

Many artists have shaped my thinking, particularly On Kawara and the conceptual artists of the '80s. That minimalist approach in art defines my world. We always attended the Venice Biennales because, surprisingly, art matters more to me than fashion. My husband was a film director, so we were drawn to artistic mediums, such as non-commercial art films and other means of conceptual expression. This was the all-embracing art world we discovered together, exhibition by exhibition.

Do you approach minimalism in how you dress? I notice you usually wear black.

"Less is more".That expression from Lawrence Weiner in the '80s, written on gallery walls, stayed with me from my youth. Imagine back then, we lived in a 1,500-square-meter concrete loft in Antwerp with just two chairs in a 30-meter-long room. People asked, "How can you live like that?" We thrived in that space, kitchen, bedroom, two beds in an immense room, nothing else.

Those formative experiences shape everything. When you create your environment consciously, it becomes part of your thinking process. This minimalist philosophy carries into your work ethic—sometimes, fewer elements help you think and imagine more clearly. Without visual overload, you can focus.

This approach applies to every endeavor. Universities should offer a course on "less is more" because young people often want to fill their minds with knowledge without understanding what they actually need. Knowledge is valuable, but knowing what you want—and what you don't want—becomes the most crucial decision of your life.

That curatorial approach, eliminating what's unnecessary and keeping what's meaningful, would benefit everyone, not just those in fashion.

If I were a teenager now, social media would distract me. Still, you can always establish boundaries: say, one day a week without social media. Use the day as an opportunity to read a book, take a walk, and learn to enjoy your emptiness.

"Enjoy your emptiness"—that's the perfect way to close our interview.