For the timeless and the effortless
In the Cab With
Alexandra Carl
A Conversation on London, Marianne Wex, Shoes, the Industry's Rat Race, Fashion Archiving, and Alexandra Carl's Seven Easy Pieces
May 9 2025, by Bart Kooi
Grounded in her studies in Sociology and Media Psychology, Carl’s work is shaped by a steady curiosity about femininity and self-expression, always approached through a thoughtful, intellectual lens. Her book Collecting Fashion: Nostalgia, Passion, Obsession — a curated journey through the wardrobes and archives of some of fashion’s most compelling figures — carries that same reflective quality, inviting us to slow down, look closer, and connect with clothes on a more emotional level.
In this week’s article, In the Cab With Alexandra Carl, a conversation with a very Cabmate creative consultant and stylist: “There is a beauty in the naivety you have when you’re young, I try to carry that spirit with me.”
You were scouted as a model at 14 and styling for DANSK magazine by 16. Was pursuing fashion at such a young age something you intentionally set out to do, or did it unfold organically?
My life has always been something where I wasn’t really conscious of the choices I was making. I was always too short to be a model anyway, so I never saw that as my path going forward. I saw modeling more as a way to meet people and learn a craft I was fascinated with — on my own body.
I was just so lucky; Copenhagen is a small place, and I had people around me, including my modeling agent at the time, who was like: "If you want to style, you should be a stylist." He just started introducing me to people. There’s a beauty in the naivety you have when you’re that young, I try to carry that spirit with me. You’re so unaware of the weight and consequences of the choices you make; it makes you take a lot more bold decisions. That naivety probably helped a lot.
Through modeling, I met friends who today are photographers and make-up artists. I would go to a casting, meet a Tim Walker, and end up having interesting conversations. I used that as a jumpboard into something I was really interested in — telling stories through clothes and building character. But it was never this big decision of Now I’m going to be this.
So you weren’t thinking within the boundaries of becoming a stylist — you just followed your intuition, connected with people, and let it grow organically?
By meeting people and seeing how things are done, you realize the boundaries only exist in your head.
There are definitely things I did — ways of contacting people, or just emailing certain people — where I should definitely have had someone tell me, don’t do that — not yet. I also had really big opportunities at that time in my life, styling-wise, which I never really saw for what they were.
I remember being put on campaigns when I was 20, 21, with photographers who were shooting the covers of V Magazine. I hadn’t yet seen this relationship that you build with the stylist, the makeup artists, the hair, the set, the model. This relationship — which is the beauty you have as a creative — where everything is this big flow of creativity. I had never seen that. There are definitely moments where I thought, oh, I wish I’d had some of those experiences a little bit later, because I was in those situations feeling completely inferior.
Looking back, would you have done anything differently?
No, not really. I like challenges where you’re like, well, okay, that’s a bit far-fetched, but let’s see if we can make it work. It’s also that kind of unpredictable Where is it going to go? You don’t know. I find that really exciting and really thrilling. Once you start knowing where all of this is going to go, then what drives you?
While in London, you decided to study Sociology and Media Psychology at Goldsmiths—what led you to that choice?
I went to Goldsmiths after I had been in London for a couple of years. Just because I always like to stimulate my mind on different levels. I'm very interested in the psychology of clothes, and even if my studies weren't around that, the opportunity to meet different kinds of people — people who weren't ingrained in one particular industry — was really good.
It really shaped my way of thinking and approaching people. I struggle being in places where everything, including in myself, is too comfortable. Ultimately, creativity thrives best under some form of tension. When things become too known and too comfortable, it's hard to see new things and push yourself beyond.
In what ways has your time at Goldsmiths influenced your perspective on fashion and how you approach styling today?
I think all of these experiences we have contribute to the evolution of your vision. It's obviously these moments of coming across people who had different opportunities, or who had different struggles than you may have had.
I always liked being in London, because the exposure to different ways of dressing, different cultures, is really prevalent. How different heritages mix together and inform each other is very interesting. All the textures, the different expressions of cultures and how they merge together, how they inform each other, has been a big part of developing my eye.
Did the academic content have an impact on how you think and work today?
A big part of what I did was feminist studies, and [learning about] certain thinkers. My studies were less visual and more theoretical. It comes back in a way of thinking and approaching a subject: Who are we putting in front of the camera? How are we approaching that? Is it just a symbolic representation or does it go deeper? I think there are a lot of questions around human behavior.
Whether you're studying archaeology, sociology, or anthropology, you're dealing with people, culture and heritage on a deeper level. Today, when I do concepts, I always have to explain them with my words: Why is the cardigan falling off the shoulder? Or, why is the blazer reversed and tied around? There’s this idea of a character — and that definitely comes from those anthropological studies as well.
It depends what I’m working on. If I’m working on an editorial concept, there’s always the idea of a character. I visualise how the editorial is going to unfold. For example, how is the shoe? Whether someone’s wearing a heel or a flat changes them massively. Think about a Phoebe Philo look with a flat versus with a heel. The whole way we carry ourselves, our expression, is very much defined by the shoe.
This season, I remember sitting at the Balenciaga show — and even if it wasn’t the most outstanding one for me — I loved all the details someone had clearly put thought into. Just all these small things make your mind start working on overdrive: Who is this person? Where are they going? It’s this idea of defining a character, and everything that comes with that personality, what carries them through. All these little nuances in a person—that’s how I think about my research.
With [consulting] designers, it’s a bit different. Some start from fabric research, others from a silhouette, and some very much from a character. As a stylist, you’re not at the front of the process in that sense—you’re in the middle of it. You can’t put yourself ahead of the designer. Your job is to understand where their head is, and guide them in the right direction, balancing that with the things you believe in too, but without taking over. The beauty of it is sitting down with the people capturing the pictures and creating these moments together—it’s so unpredictable, but also so fascinating. When we get to that point where there’s a merge between two, four, ten streams of thought, and what that creates — that’s incredibly exciting.
Is there a message you aim to convey through your work? Do you feel there's a common thread that makes it distinctly you?
It’s the shapes — sometimes in quite ordinary garments, sometimes in more elaborate ones.
It's always the expression of femininity and identity, with a bit of a masculine or androgynous edge. It's never too masculine or too feminine. I have my codes that I like and that I'm drawn to personally—in silhouettes, colours, and textures overall.
On your mood boards, are there certain images or references that consistently reappear?
No, not really. You go through phases where something influences you a lot. There was this period where I was very inspired by the German anthropologist Marian Wex, and she did this study called Let’s Take Back Our Space. It’s basically a visual portrayal of how men and women sit and act differently in society. It’s just very fascinating, because it’s so relatable. I’m really drawn to things that are just so relatable, but in a way where you’re like: “Oh, I haven’t seen it this way before.”
[Wex]’s work is what we can all relate to. The way that it is set up and illustrated is so funny, but it is also so on point. It has a humour, but it is also almost uncomfortable, which is what I like about it.
I find it interesting because it reveals a deeper layer behind something as simple as the way men and women sit. I think it aligns with your work.
Maybe that’s why I have this affinity with it—because I like the directness of it.
It's not too complex, but it says so much.
It has humour, but it’s also poignant, and that’s probably why I keep being drawn to things like that. I like things that aren’t overly complex — I like taking something simple and turning it on its head, creating a moment where someone sees it in a new context and wants to come back to it.
Creating pictures where people feel there’s an element of something unexpected they want to revisit is a true art—because it’s hard to make people look at something twice now.
I think the moments I’m most proud of aren’t necessarily the ones that reflect my work the most. One of my favourite projects I’ve ever done was with Erwin Wurm and Jürgen Teller—a story for POP Magazine, around 45 pages, shot at the Corbusier Foundation in Switzerland [Villa “Le Lac” Le Corbusier]. It took forever to make happen—about nine months from when I first asked Erwin and Jürgen to take part, to the actual production. And in the end, the styling was the least of it.
It’s not necessarily about a look of a season, or this big kind of styling moment with a silhouette I really wanted to express. But that wasn’t what the story was about. It’s one of those moments I’ll probably remember when I’m 80, but styling-wise, it’s not really the most interesting thing I’ve done.
Sometimes things can feel a bit repetitive, like: It’s a new season, who are we shooting with? Who’s the model? That’s why I wanted to do the book [Collecting Fashion: Nostalgia, Passion, Obsession], because it’s a belief in something that goes beyond a season, but also about a notion that sits outside of just me.
You have to think about projects that can carry you through—something to look forward to, a piece that can live on. A lot of photographers are able to do that through personal work, while as a stylist, it’s a bit more unusual. You need a photographer, but once the question 'Where are we shooting it for?' comes up, it becomes part of the machine again.
So would you say that your book is the most representative project you've done? It really captures the idea of stopping time.
Yeah, it's about slowing it down. I think everyone has this need to take a step back and look at things with a bigger perspective. That’s what I wanted to do with the book. Showing clothes from the inside—that’s also how I fell in love with clothes; watching my grandmother when I was really little, seeing how she cared for her clothes and repaired them. That very much nurtured the relationship I have with clothes today. I wanted people to see their clothes in that way.
If I had used a maybe heavier psychological tone, it would probably have seemed a little bit too serious. I wanted the book to be a light-hearted inspiration and introduction into collecting rather than this big museum anthem, because there's enough of those. [Those books] are all shot perfectly, but I didn't want it to be that.
I’m not interested in perfection, I’m not interested in clothes that are only acquired by very wealthy people. I’ve always been more fascinated with the idea of collecting—falling in love with something that you maybe can’t access immediately.
Think about our generation—we want people to dream, but at the same time, we’re telling them, “Oh, by the way, this other thing is happening in two months—maybe hold out for that.” We’re overloading people.
Was part of the reason for creating this book also to remind others, and perhaps the industry, that there’s a different way of thinking about clothes?
Definitely, because craft[manship] and building this fantasy around a brand takes time. Think about Loewe: How long did it actually take them to manifest that quirky, unpredictable, raw, but still so beautiful and extremely desirable aesthetic that they established? Over 10 years? That's a long time. Most people get, what, a year and a half now?
What do you hope readers take away from the book?
Definitely the relationship with clothes. But also, the encouragement of taking your time to fall in love with something. To be inspired. There’s a lot of amazing vintage pieces you can find for a fraction of the price of anything new. I love that, I’m excited about the fact that it’s becoming more available.
I’m also excited about the fact that brands are starting to realize that their heritage is their strongest selling point, because it’s something no one can take away from you. It’s unique to you, to your brand, to the story you want to tell, and to the language of your designs. Think about the designers we’re most fascinated with — Rei [Kawakubo], Rick [Owens], Azzedine [Alaïa] — these are people who never really deviated from their language.
Today, we ask people to enter a heritage brand like Gucci and completely reinvent and reestablish it. It’s crazy to me. I think we should lean much more into the language that these brands have, rather than bringing in someone, hyping them up for two years, and then kicking them out again.
Finally, two signature questions from this interview series: Donna Karan famously created her Seven Easy Pieces as a wardrobe foundation. If you had to create your own version, what would your Seven Easy Pieces be?
I like this question. They’re:
- Straight leg jeans;
- A white, crewneck t-shirt. Most of the time, they’re from Aries, just because the shape is so good. I don’t really love logos, so I have a love-hate relationship with them — but I embrace it because I love the fit.
- An old (Phoebe) Céline coat, I always wear long coats;
- A blazer, from Wardrobe NYC;
- A pair of boots from Khaite;
- I have this Miu Miu belt with a gold buckle, which is the perfect buckle size;
- And my old Hermès Kelly bag, which has been repaired about ten times. I’m a big fan of their repair service.
[adds] Oh wait, my glasses! They should probably be in there, I don’t go to many places without them.
And finally, what makes something very Cabmate to you?
I thought about that, and the last thing I saw which felt kind of Cabmate was actually David Beckham with an oversized Hermès bag.
The [Cabmate] style is very refined in images, but there's also this humor and quirk to it. It's something that's quite right and a little bit wrong •
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
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