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“I’m not sure how I feel about calling it a retrospective. It’s a reflection,” says Charles Jeffrey as he walks me through his new archive exhibition, ‘The Lore of Loverboy’, which opens this Friday at Somerset House in London. It’s Monday, and the build is midway through. Mannequins are being installed as we stroll around, presenting looks that have come to define Jeffrey’s Loverboy brand over the past decade. Some are still covered in protective paper — showing only tantalising glimpses of tartan trouser cuffs, or silver-clawed shoes.
Jeffrey’s excitement is palpable. The opening of the exhibition coincides with his Spring/Summer 2025 show during London Fashion Week. And it is a big moment for the brand: a marker of a milestone that is no small feat in the UK right now. Evidence is mounting of how hard it is for British designer brands to survive and thrive without the backing of large conglomerates. The Vampire’s Wife, Roksanda, Christopher Kane — all established brands with talented creatives at the helm, run aground amid the perfect storm of Brexit and the pandemic.
Jeffrey hasn’t done it alone. He has investment and support from Tomorrow Ltd, in itself a kind of conglomerate but one that allows brands to retain creative control. Though what really strikes me, as we walk, is how commercial a head Jeffrey has on his shoulders, for one whose designs are expressive to the point, at times, of being cartoonish. Alongside posters from his first Loverboy club night back in 2014, a doodled crisp packet and a video of a drag queen wearing one of his creations, is a proud display of his money-spinning ear beanies (also available to buy from the shop).
But beyond that, there’s a very clear recognition of the need to do more than just create clothing to survive as a brand today. He has produced a music album, and in August launched Loverboy Radio on Foundation FM. There’s also the VIP dressing, which he takes very seriously — custom-made designs for big names like Tilda Swinton and Harry Styles (which are on show at the exhibition). Meanwhile, the collections have evolved. It’s still fun, still outrageous, but there’s been a gear shift from student designer to serious player with a gross merchandise value (GMV) of £8.5 million in the year ending April 2024.
Here, the Scottish designer talks us through 10 years of building a brand, how London has changed in that time and his take on the turbulence facing British fashion.
Vogue: Tell us about about the exhibition.
We decided to call it ‘The Lore of Loverboy’ because it’s not just an exhibition about the work, it’s more like a case study on the business. It’s been fantastic to reflect on my own creative journey, but also to think about the mechanisms that have helped this brand become what it is.
It starts with me being obsessed with fashion and culture in the early 2000s. When I moved to London, it was this pinnacle of club culture, and music and fashion were so integrated. I remember walking around and seeing people in these crazy looks. And then thinking about my time at Central Saint Martins before it moved to King’s Cross, getting taught by Louise Wilson before she died; all these final bits of London before it changed into what it is now. I built this club night and this group of people around me.
The second room explores the idea of generating codes and the ritual of the studio team coming together and working around a table; the mechanisms of styling, hair and makeup; and the graphics and the art direction of developing a brand. And there are tributaries or themes which have echoed in the brand: historicism, Scottish textiles, paganism and magic, queerdom.
The third room is about the idea of the icon: the show, the celebrities, the collaborations, the red carpet — the wonder and glamour of fashion.
The opening night on 7 June is also an opportunity for people to see the show, which is about temporality. It reflects 24 hours in the day of a Loverboy. So we’re thinking about that not only as a way of merchandising and styling the collection, but also the emotions you go through in a day. The transgressions and the moments of joy.
Vogue: After the Tomorrow investment, you moved to showing in Milan. What do you make of London Fashion Week now?
I feel like I was able to tap into these final frontiers of what was happening in culture in London [in the 2010s]. There was a men’s week bubble. London was on the map because of the Olympics [in 2012] — the city was really going places. It’s very obvious that this is no longer the case, and Brexit is a huge reason. You can’t force something to grow if the soil isn’t right.
It’s good that they [the British Fashion Council] are trying to explore these different viewpoints of fashion and thinking about other things aside from just the fashion show itself, like culture and photography. If I could continue to show in London, that would be my dream. But Milan and Paris are the top of the top, and I want to surf that wave; I want to take my brand to where it deserves to be. London is my home, but I have to be smart.
Vogue: We’ve been talking a lot recently about the upheaval in the wholesale market and how it’s impacting brands. How are you navigating this?
We’ve been glazed over, thinking that fashion can only be this one thing. Yes, wholesale is the backbone of fashion. But I’m interested in taking my brand into other areas. We started as a club night, and we’ve done fashion for 10 years. We’ve also done loads of other projects like content, music, radio, film, TV, advertorial, art direction, graphics. Why should we be making money just from products? Is there another space where we can capitalise on the weird and wonderful world of Loverboy? In the next three to five years, I'm definitely going to have another arm to the business.
Vogue: What do you credit with Loverboy’s resilience?
I think the thing that has kept us going has been our sense of humour, and not taking ourselves as seriously as maybe some other people have. You’re more likely to hang out with your friend who’s got a sense of humour, who’s got more of a joy, a sense of life than somebody who has more of a serious take. I enjoy making people feel comfortable, so they see themselves in the brand. If I think about our hero products, they all are joyful additions to somebody’s wardrobe.
Vogue: Any advice for the next generation of designers that are graduating now?
I know it’s cheesy but networking. Try and meet as many people as you possibly can. When I started, I was so eager to do anything and everything; I wanted to do pattern cutting, meet the stylists, go to the parties.
The other thing I would say is you have to protect yourself. Make sure that when you’re working with people, with friends, that it has a transactional, contractual element. You’re going to help me do some sewing so I’ll cook dinner. Confirm it with a text message, an email: this is how I like to work. I had some amazing people help me because they believed in what I was doing, but it got muddy towards the end. There needs to be some sort of balance otherwise you’re tied to that person or they feel beholden to you.
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