What if fashion innovation begins before the sketch?

In his Recognition-by-Components Theory, cognitive psychologist Irving Biederman proposed that we recognize objects by breaking them down into elementary geometric components — geons — and, crucially, by perceiving the relationships between them.

We recognise because the brain has learned configurations.

A cylinder above a certain shape.

A volume connected to another volume.

A familiar proportion between parts.

And within milliseconds, the mind says: I know what this is.

But fashion has always been fascinated by the opposite question:

What happens when the eye almost recognises something — but not quite?

Think about the extraordinary power of a silhouette that stops us.

The components may not be radically new.

Shoulders. Waist. Volume. Fabric. Body. Proportion.

What changes is their configuration.

An exaggerated shoulder disrupts an expected proportion.

A volume appears where the eye does not expect it.

The relationship between body and garment is altered.

A familiar silhouette becomes unfamiliar enough to demand another look.

And perhaps this is where perception becomes an underestimated dimension of fashion innovation.

Because creativity is not necessarily about continuously inventing new elements.

Sometimes it is about escaping the combinations our brain has learned to expect.

Forcing the brain to reinterpret a familiar form — is where creativity wins:

in the tension between recognition and surprise.

The jacket itself is not new… shoulders, sleeves, lapels, waist and torso are all elements that our perceptual system knows perfectly well.

The brain already has a kind of “expectation” about how they should be configured:

it knows what a jacket is supposed to look like.

Now imagine that a designer invents no new element at all, but instead intervenes in the relationships between them:

• extends the shoulders far beyond the body;

• radically cinches the waist;

• shifts the point at which we perceive the sleeve as beginning;

• changes the relationship between torso and hips;

• alters the proportions while preserving enough recognizable elements for the brain to continue reading “jacket.” 

  
  

The result is interesting because something like this happens:

“It’s a jacket” → “but it shouldn’t look like this” → attention → curiosity → new interpretation.

And this is precisely where the idea becomes powerful:

innovation does not necessarily lie in a new component, but in a new perceptual relationship between familiar components.

Think, for example, about the history of shoulders in fashion.

A shoulder is a shoulder. And yet, by changing its volume, height, width and relationship to the waist, it can communicate power, fragility, aggression, protection, androgyny or theatricality.

So we have not invented a new “fundamental shape.”

We have forced the brain to reinterpret a familiar form.

And this is where the Coach truly comes in...

Suppose a Fashion Executive says: “The consumer wants something new today.”

A conventional response might immediately lead towards trends, new materials or new products.

The Coach could instead work upstream of the product, on the executive’s perceptual framework:

“When you say jacket, what must necessarily remain true for you to continue perceiving it as a jacket?”

This question is far more powerful than it may seem.

Because it brings unconscious perceptual constraints to the surface.

“It has to have these proportions.”“The shoulder has to sit here.”“The body has to follow this line.”“The front has to work this way.”

At that point, the Coach might ask:

“Which of those elements belongs to the garment — and which belongs only to your expectation of the garment?”

and... that is the point!

We are not asking the executive to become a designer. We are training their ability to distinguish the reality of the object from the configuration their mind has learned to expect.

This has an interesting implication for fashion executives.

What configuration has the customer's brain not learned to expect yet — but could still recognise enough to desire?

This is where I believe Executive Coaching can enter the creative conversation.

Not by telling fashion executives what to create.

And certainly not by replacing the creative function.

But by training the executive mind to notice its own perceptual templates:

What forms have become “normal” to me?