Corporate Control, Fashioned by Jane Wade

We live in a world of watchers—both welcome and not. If social media has made us curators of our own image, the flipside is a society under constant surveillance, where power is wielded through observation. In Jane Wade’s A/W 25 fashion film, The Merger, this reality is distilled into a corporate battleground where control is absolute, and no one is truly free.

Set in the hyper-masculine theatre of the boardroom, the film follows the fictitious acquisition of Wade’s company, where characters clash in a power struggle dressed in imperious shoulder pads and weighty ties. 'We’re examining how power operates in a surveillance state,' co-creative director Joe Van O tells SHOWstudio. 'Our protagonist, a small business owner, isn’t just selling her company—she’s being absorbed into a system that doesn’t allow her to exist outside of it.'

Like an episode of Severance, The Merger unpicks corporate corruption disguised as ambition. Reinforced seams and razor-sharp tailoring symbolise the rigid structures of corporate America, while the models—eerily perfect, unnervingly controlled—embody a world where individuality is sacrificed for success. 'Our obsession with power and wealth blinds us to the cost of playing the game,' warns Van O.

On the runway, Wade’s vision played out with an added dose of irony. The Chief Financial Officer for A/W 25? None other than Real Housewives of Beverly Hills icon Lisa Rinna. Striding in a tyrannical plaid trench coat and steely leather gloves, she dominated the space—flipping chairs, exuding authority, and ending her performance with a predatory sprawl across a colleague’s desk. In Wade’s corporate jungle, only the most ruthless climb to the top.

The collection itself wrestles with the tension between function and restriction. In The Merger, belt loops become handcuffs in look 13, while tangled wired earphones snake across the shoulders in look 23—suggesting entrapment in an unseen system. Wade describes 'a theatrical class hierarchy' woven through the designs, with garments defining distinct roles, from working-class functionality to executive opulence. The message is clear: in the corporate power play, clothes don’t just reflect status—they dictate control.