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It takes a lot to interrupt a mindless Instagram scroll, but a photo of [stylist] Nicola Formichetti stopped me in my tracks. His candy-wrapper ensemble looked like a wearable Jeff Koons sculpture. Something about the impossibly shiny sheen made me think: Is that real? No, it turned out it wasn’t. It was an outfit from Tribute, a company based in Zagreb, Croatia, that makes “contactless cyber fashion.”
In some ways, this kind of fashion is a continuation of a trend we’ve seen accelerated during COVID-19. Most fashion brands have paused real-life catwalk presentations and instead used short films or virtual showroom visits to get their seasonal vision across. But even before the pandemic, we saw hints of how fashion could exist purely on the internet. Digital fashion influencers like @lilmiquela, for instance, have rocked the latest runway looks from an entirely different dimension. E-commerce websites are also making it easier than ever for shoppers to purchase items without ever having to see or touch it in-person, too. You can even window shop on Zoom now. All of this is possible because social media has primed us for dressing for a digital audience rather than a physical one.
So it’s no surprise that some brands are continuing to blur the line between reality and fantasy, taking us into fashion’s uncanny valley. Tribute makes digital clothing that it places on people who spend up to $699 on a top that only exists online. The inspiration for the brand was the Sims, Grand Theft Auto, and other video games. “You have these characters and clothing shops where you can dress them up. That was always the most exciting part of the game for me,” says Gala Marija Vrbanic, the founder and creative director of Tribute. She launched Tribute with Filip Vajda, who is the head of digital fashion. Prior to starting it, the duo worked on a traditional clothing brand, but always had their sights set on a digital brand. A shared love of sustainable design led them to take the concept to the extreme with Tribute, which claims to be zero-waste because the clothes are made from pixels rather than textiles. By creating clothes that are online-only, the duo see a creative opportunity to have people wear things that could never exist on planet earth. In other words, perfect Instagram bait. “We add new things that are impossible in the real world, like new materials—things that just couldn’t function in the real word due to the laws of physics,” says Vrbanic.
To start their line, Vrbanic and Vajda digitized patterns that they had already created for real-life clothes, using a 3D software that brands that make physical clothes also use. Once the garments are complete, they then use another software to paste the outfit onto a customer’s image that they submit. They blend the garment onto the photo seamlessly, and add shadowing and other lifelike elements. The whole process takes three to five hours, but Vrbanic sees the technology developing so, “people could have this type of clothing instantly.”
Currently, the brand has a collection of 12 otherworldly garments available on its website, and they take custom orders. Though it’s not real stock, Tribute only produces a certain amount of virtual styles, and once they’re gone, they’re gone. On the website, it lists how many pieces the brand will create. One hundred people can buy a black, shiny coat with green trim for $29, while only three can purchase a top that resembles green lace and black latex for $699.
Tribute’s Instagram page sometimes makes it tricky to determine what is real and what is digital. But its gravity-defying aesthetic makes it easier to discern. The clothes aren’t necessarily supposed to look real, but they can certainly make you do a double-take and question it. So naturally, I wanted to see if my friends would be able to tell if I was wearing digital clothes, without being primed for the possibility. I surrendered a photo of myself to Vrbanic and Vajda, and they quickly sent me back a new-and-improved version of myself wearing cyborg clothes. Suddenly, I was wearing a Matrix-style trench coat with silver and green pants that made me look like a superhero. It was me, but better and more alien-like. I immediately sent my new digital outfit to all of my unsuspecting friends, to get their first impressions without any context or clues given.
Not all of my friends were fooled (three immediately asked if the ’fit was fake) but all of my friends were fascinated. My friend Christina said, “The pants look painted-on, but I had to zoom in on first look.” She also said it reminded her of Cher’s closet in Clueless. Another friend compared it to Monster energy drinks, and another said it gave her Hugh Hefner vibes.
Having tried Tribute’s cyber garments myself now, I now see the appeal of it. I am often guilty of scrutinizing my outfit in photos, and if the fit is only slightly off, I will delete said photo. Looking at myself in these flawless virtual pieces, however, the end result had the desired effect that fashion should have: It made me feel good. Like me, but amplified. The only thing that would make the experience even better is if I could actually walk down in the street in these masterfully slouchy pants. But I can’t, because that’s not the point.
Other virtual brands like this seem to be gaining traction. The Scandinavian brand Carlings operates on the same concept, and its team of 3D designers have been crafting digital streetwear since 2018. The Fabricant recently launched a film campaign that showcases an entire digital denim line too. “We truly believe this is something that is going to shape the future of fashion, and it's something that is totally zero-waste,” says Vrbanic. With waste being an ongoing issue in the fashion industry, the duo thinks their digital approach will catch on. It may seem excessive to spend $29 on an outfit that doesn’t exist in the physical world, but the brand’s founders see it as less wasteful than creating a new physical garment from the world’s limited resources. “If you recycle many plastic bottles or produce many organic cotton, it’s still going to be a problem—even a greater one, because when you produce organic cotton, there’s a lot of more water used,” says Vrbanic. “In this case, there are no external resources used. In a couple of years, everything is going to be digital.”
But Tribute likely isn’t for everybody. It’s for people who really love the look of clothes, and flexing it on Instagram. Will those with simple, everyday style—say, jeans and a tee—really purchase Tribute’s bold creations? Probably not, but personally, I see Tribute as special-occasion-wear—when you’ve exhausted your wardrobe and need something fun and outrageous to wear for a photo. I didn’t expect to be so taken by my avatar, but I am, and can confirm that spending $29 to be living for your look is well worth it. And if you’ve grown accustomed to seeing your online persona as an extension of yourself, the fact that these clothes are computer generated doesn’t matter. The result is the same.