In a guest column, author Tandekile Mkize explores how community, culture, and the sense of belonging are transforming the future of South African fashion, arguing that the concept of Ubuntu could become the next design code for the industry. The author notes that international fashion brands are increasingly creating spaces where fashion intersects with music, art, food, hospitality, and community, as people seek deeper and more meaningful ways of interaction.
Mkize recalls being invited to contribute to the G-Star sponsored series The Art of Style to examine the growing shift of fashion from mere products to experiences. This request proved timely, as the author himself is working on a new project that challenges him to create a people- and culture-centric retail experience for clothing.
The fashion industry has become highly eloquent in the language of connection. Concepts such as collaboration, belonging, creative ecosystems, and cultural exchange are discussed. There is a growing realization that consumers are looking for something more than just beautiful things; they are seeking places where they can gather and feel part of something larger.
The brand G-Star embraced this shift by positioning fashion as a tool for cultural exchange. The company uses collaborations with South African creatives to integrate the global denim brand into the local cultural context. Examples include a limited collection with Cape Town artist Russel Abrahams, known as Yay Abe, and the Fuata Moyo (Re)Love exhibition. These events have catalyzed discussions, bringing together artists, designers, cultural figures, and fashion enthusiasts.
The author questions what it would look like if community became not just a campaign or a buzzword, but a design practice. He raises the question: what happens if we move beyond intentions and start designing based on the values we so easily proclaim? South African fashion must ask itself not how it talks about community, but how it designs it.
There is already an established language for understanding relationships and reciprocity—this is Ubuntu. Often reduced to a well-known proverb, Ubuntu is more useful when understood as a way of practice rather than merely a description of community. It prompts us to ask different questions about how fashion is produced and what relationships it allows to be established.
This global shift towards experimental fashion is becoming not just a trend report, but an opportunity to view the role of fashion in our social and cultural lives differently. South African fashion has a chance to offer its own model where community is intentionally designed and sustained.
The author does not need to invent how this should look, as designers and creative workers across the country are already pointing in this direction. For instance, the Mamakashakain space in Braamfontein, while not exclusively a fashion venue, offers one of the most telling lessons for the industry. In the author's view, Mamakashaka founder Nandi Dlepu understands that culture is shaped through regular gatherings.
Various events can take place in this space: one week might feature a fashion show to introduce young designers, the next might host a lecture or discussion with cultural figures about self-identity or creative practice, and another might host a dance party. People return there because they trust that significant events can happen in the right setting.
Fashion needs to learn from such places. While not every brand needs to become a cultural hub, brands can more consciously create conditions for connection—places where discoveries happen naturally, and belonging develops over time, rather than being promised within an advertising campaign.
The collaboration between Thebe Magugu and Wanda Lephoto titled Everyday Resistance demonstrates another example of this practice. For the author, this is one of the most significant events in South African fashion in recent years. In an industry that often rewards a singular creative vision, Everyday Resistance offers a different approach: solidarity can be a creative force.
The collaboration shows that fashion is enriched when it embraces dialogue. Wanda Lephoto noted that this partnership means a great deal to her because she gets to work with Thebe, whom she loves, respects, and admires, and they are working toward freedom, which is very important to both of them.
If community is a design practice, then one manifestation of this can be how designers support each other. Everyday Resistance serves as a vivid example that solidarity among designers is not only possible but necessary, as meaningful cultural work is created not in isolation, but in interconnectedness.
Designer Onesimo Bam poses a completely different question: who has the right to the fashion experience? His works constantly blur the lines between fashion and everyday life, creating accessible and vibrant encounters. His pieces, from the streets of Langa and Bree Street to the majestic St George's Cathedral, argue that fashion does not lose its value when it leaves exclusive spaces; on the contrary, it gains cultural significance by becoming part of daily life, rather than an object of distant observation.
These examples differ in form and intent, yet they share a common instinct: to bring people together around shared values and cultural participation. They remind us that fashion is most meaningful when it creates conditions for people not just to consume culture, but to actively participate in its creation.
The author is interested in what will happen if we stop viewing these examples as isolated instances of good practice and start seeing them as signs of something bigger. What if designing community becomes more than just ethics adopted by individual designers or creative spaces? What if Ubuntu is adopted as one of the guiding principles for imagining the future of South African fashion?
Perhaps this is the next frontier—the formation of a fashion ecosystem intentionally designed around care and participation.
An expert argues that the future of South Africa is determined not by material wealth such as mineral resources, entrepreneurial spirit, or strategic location, but by an invisible asset—collective belief.
Many might consider South Africa's financial institutions, Constitution, or the resilience of its population to be its most valuable national resource. However, there is another asset that cannot be measured on a balance sheet or taxed. This is an invisible force that determines whether the nation will develop or decline. This asset is collective conviction.
The world's most successful nations are not simply those with the strongest economies or the richest natural resources. They are societies where citizens share a common belief in a better future; where people trust each other enough to cooperate, entrepreneurs are confident in opportunities, investors are willing to commit capital, and youth believe in the possibility of improving tomorrow. Nations function based on confidence long before they begin operating on capital.
During Mandela Month celebrations, the question arises whether South Africa's greatest problem is not only economic or political, but also psychological. The doubt emerges: have the residents stopped believing? Recent public discussions concerning crime, unemployment, immigration, and economic inequality point to a country under immense pressure. These issues demand serious political solutions and honest public debate.
Nevertheless, parallel to these legitimate concerns, something more subtle is happening: social cohesion is weakening, public trust is declining, and confidence is fading. When confidence disappears, it becomes harder to build prosperity. This is not merely an opinion, but a conclusion supported by scientific data.
Behavioral scientists have long demonstrated that beliefs shape behavior. People who believe their efforts matter are more likely to persevere, innovate, and invest in the future. Conversely, when people lose hope, they withdraw, become less risk-taking, less entrepreneurial, and less willing to collaborate.
This same principle applies to societies. Economists often speak of investor confidence, but investor confidence is merely a manifestation of a much broader phenomenon: collective conviction. Businesses invest because they believe in market growth. Families raise children because they believe in available opportunities. Entrepreneurs create companies assuming their efforts will be rewarded. Communities cooperate because they believe others will do the same.
Conviction transforms into behavior, behavior into results, and results reinforce conviction. This generates either a virtuous or a destructive cycle. South Africa has experienced both scenarios. There were times when the country believed in itself as a whole, such as during the transition to democracy or at the 1995 Rugby World Cup.
The 2010 FIFA World Cup showed what is possible when government, business, civil society, and ordinary citizens unite around a common goal. Despite widespread skepticism, South Africa hosted one of the most memorable tournaments in FIFA history, presenting to the world a nation capable of extraordinary achievements. For a short time, South Africans remembered what it felt like to have collective belief. This feeling mattered because belief is contagious, just like cynicism.
Today, negativity often dominates the national conversation: social media encourages anger, headlines amplify failures, and political discourse tends to divide rather than unite. Criticism is necessary in any democracy because it ensures accountability, transparency, and active debate. However, there is a crucial difference between constructive criticism and collective despair. No nation achieves prosperity solely through talk.
History demonstrates a strikingly consistent pattern: Germany restored confidence after the war before regaining global competitiveness. Singapore combined visionary leadership with unwavering belief that the island with limited resources could become one of the world's leading economies. South Korea transformed itself from one of the poorest countries in the world into one of the most innovative, cultivating a shared national commitment to education, excellence, and long-term progress.
The success of these countries was based not only on optimism but on a shared belief embodied in disciplined action. South Africa needs precisely this formula. Belief does not replace economic reforms, nor can it substitute competent governance, sound policy, or ethical leadership. But reforms cannot succeed if the nation ceases to believe in the possibility of improvement.
Therefore, leadership carries a responsibility far greater than merely managing institutions. Leadership creates belief. The greatest legacy is left by leaders who expand people's perceptions of what is possible. Perhaps this was Nelson Mandela's greatest contribution to South Africa. His outstanding achievement was not just the peaceful transition to democracy; he inspired millions of South Africans and millions of people worldwide to believe in the possibility of reconciliation when conflict seemed inevitable, that hope could triumph over fear, and that a shared future was stronger than a divided past. He understood that before people change their behavior, they must first change their beliefs.
Perhaps this is the challenge facing every resident of South Africa today. Business leaders must create organizations that people believe in. Politicians must restore trust through honesty and keeping promises. Educators must help youth believe that their potential exceeds their circumstances. Communities must rediscover the value of social cohesion over social division.
And each of us has a choice regarding the stories we tell ourselves and others. Will we strengthen decline, or will we become builders of confidence? South Africa's future will be determined not only by GDP, not only by elections, or not only by global markets. It will also depend on whether we can restore the invisible asset upon which any prosperous society ultimately depends—collective belief. Because when a nation believes in itself, it gains the ability to achieve far more than anyone could have imagined. And perhaps this is the most important investment South Africa can make—not only in its economy, but in its future.
