The Experiment Failed?

When I designed the Exposed Collection, I really thought I had cracked it. I believed I’d found a way to shift people away from man-made fiber lingerie and show them that cotton can be just as sexy. But as it turns out, challenging an aesthetic that’s been ingrained for generations isn’t that simple.

I’ve loved cotton jersey since university. It forgave my mistakes as a student designer, it’s endlessly wearable, and it always feels comfortable. It’s no wonder sportswear exploded in the 90s and never really left. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to it — I still remember living in my oversized bright orange Joe Bloggs T-shirt and Lion King cycle shorts as a kid.

Lace, on the other hand, and I have never really got along. It’s always felt too cliché, too expected. Sometimes I wonder: who’s driving this obsession — men or women? Lace has been around for over 400 years, so maybe we’re just stuck with it.

The Exposed Collection was my attempt at a middle ground: five sets in black or white, made of organic cotton with touches of nylon mesh. I didn’t want to use mesh at first, but I thought it might ease consumers into the idea of “sexy cotton.” The mesh exposed just enough to keep the sets intriguing. Most pieces were practical — Hera, Artemis and Athena were wearable tops; Eos and Phoebe were everyday bottoms. It was also the first time I named designs after Greek goddesses, though I’m still not sure if that’s me.

Sales weren’t terrible, but compared to my fishnet collection, they were less than half. Maybe it didn’t reach the right audience. Maybe it just wasn’t what people wanted.

Marketing was part of the problem. As a solopreneur, I spend most of my time on manufacturing, not selling. I did produce an editorial I’m really proud of, though. Shot by a street photographer, the images came out grainy and dreamlike, like peeking into a secret feminine commune. I could have gone for the usual polished boudoir shoot, but there’s already so much of that. I’d rather challenge the eye.

I still believe there’s space for sustainable fetish lingerie. But maybe Hidden Beneath isn’t the brand for it — at least not right now. After a lot of reflection (and swallowing my ego), I’ve accepted that fishnet is the heart of the label. What started as resistance to creating an overtly sexual brand has, ironically, given it its unique identity.

So get it whilst you can — the Exposed Collection will be gone by the end of the year. It may not have been the breakout I imagined, but it will always be remembered as the experiment that created Hidden Beneath.

Hidden Beneath has become “clean kink” — modern, minimalist, and unapologetically itself. And maybe that’s exactly where it’s meant to be.