Kiko Kostadinov’s Melrose Hill store is made for lingering

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes

“It was quite surreal,” Kiko Kostadinov, the reflective and deeply attuned mind behind the eponymous brand, says as he recalls his first vivid memory of Los Angeles. “I was staying at the Line, and I remember waking up. [Out of the window], it was the Hollywood Hills. It felt quite dystopian in a way, because you had all these pillars of culture … all this power concentrated in a little mountain.” That was nearly eight years ago.

At the time, L.A. existed for Kostadinov mostly as an idea. An aerial view of an otherwise incredibly layered city, which would reveal itself to him in due time. Through the hotel window, the home of nearly 4 million residents appeared to organize itself around mythology. The hills, glittering with celebrity, seemed to symbolize a culture and people that existed largely on the surface. Yet that perception quickly began to fade as the London-based designer spent more time actually experiencing the city with friends. “Later on, [it] became a bit more of meeting people in their houses and getting into that part of L.A.,” Kostadinov notes. The part of L.A where the city’s vastness, paradoxically, produces pockets of unusual intimacy.

“I think it’s interesting that a lot of things happen in people’s houses,” Deanna Fanning, the co-designer of Kiko Kostadinov’s womenswear line and partner of Kostadinov, shares over the call, where her sister, Laura Fanning — the other half of the respective line — and Kostadinov sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “In other very global cities, [being in community] happens outside, so [in L.A.] there’s a different edge to meeting and socializing,” Deanna expresses. For anyone new to Los Angeles, the casual, backyard, house-party approach to community is striking. Creative circles that might feel siloed elsewhere naturally overlap here. Accessing those spaces still requires intention, however, and efforts to bring them beyond private homes remain a mission for creatives optimistic about a more connected future. The brand has found itself nestled within that pursuit.

Kiko Kostadinov Jaeger pumps

Sewn into every stitch for the last decade, curiosity has remained a driving force behind Kostadinov’s work. Whether that’s the pursuit of new forms of connection, experimenting with unfamiliar design frameworks such as a new menswear silhouette, or excavating references from the past, the brand approaches each collection with a spirit of inquiry. Operating within a language of minimal utilitarianism, technological innovation and structural expressionism, its designs are perhaps most distinctive for their embrace of hauntology — the practice of drawing fragments of the past into the present to shape something new. That impulse to build the future through layered histories mirrors the brand’s approach to place as well, making its next move clearer.

After spending five years traveling to and from L.A., the trio found themselves confronted with the possibility of establishing roots on its palm-lined streets. “There’s a lot of things that just kind of connected,” the Bulgarian-born Kostadinov notes. With a longstanding presence in London and a budding location in Tokyo’s Shibuya neighborhood, L.A. presented itself as the next natural evolution in the brand’s legacy, though many questioned the move. Why L.A.?

But to others, who have always recognized the intersection the brand occupies — one that blends community, design and an intrinsic desire to have their pulse on culture — perhaps the more appropriate question was why not L.A.? In November 2024, Kiko Kostadinov opened its doors in the Melrose Hill neighborhood, a culmination of long nights, short trips and expansive friendships that felt as if the city had chosen them.

Leading up to the flagship’s opening, the community it would come to cultivate over the following two years was already taking shape behind the scenes. Long before a space had been conceptualized — let alone the keys acquired — a collaborative foundation had been laid. Part of that foundation emerged through the friendship of the Morán brothers, Al Morán and Mills Morán, founders of the gallery Morán Morán and co-founders of Felix Art Fair, whose presence within Los Angeles’ creative ecosystem helped reinforce a shared vision for the store. Just as important was the understanding that the right team would serve as one of its defining structural pillars. “At that point, it wasn’t even about the shop; it was about the people,” Kostadinov says.

If you were to enter the boutique for the first time, you might be greeted by a subversively tailored figure, framed by her signature bold-yet-chic eyeliner and a presence that feels both firm and inviting. Jenny Lê, the flagship’s head of operations, has become the nucleus of the store, embodying the essence of discipline, intention and collaboration that has been there from the very beginning. Aside from a personal style that fits perfectly within the brand’s lookbook, regardless of collection, Lê has amassed experience in established spaces like Opening Ceremony and Dries Van Noten, priming her for an integral role at Kiko. “It was great to have someone like Jenny who was willing to join our team from quite an established [space] and then to be more than excited and interested in joining the team to start the development of what Kiko L.A. is now,” Kostadinov reflects. Since then, that development has extended far beyond a single hire, evolving into a team whose collective energy has come to define the store’s identity.

From DJs influencing the L.A. scene to artists subverting notions that this city lacks creative innovation, Kiko’s internal ecosystem has been one deeply representative of the brand as a whole. At the moment, the team is made up of Lina Fatanat and Chris Maghsodi, brand associates who, helmed by Lê, serve as de facto head-to-toe Kiko ambassadors. They’re helping build upon the vision set forth months prior, connecting ambitions of creating a gallery-forward third space with the rotating collections of the brand. Cue Ryan Trecartin, a singular contemporary artist and friend of Kostadinov, whose work traverses realms of mutated reality; he built upon his distinct style at Kiko’s Tokyo location, bringing that same design prowess to L.A., a city he once called home.

The team of Kiko Kostadinov. Chris Maghsodi, left, wears Kiko Kostadinov Erdiko jacket, Erdiko trousers and Sargo shoes. Jenny Lê, center, wears Kiko Kostadinov Corella double sleeve jumper, Tern trousers, and Jaeger pumps. Lina Fatanat, right, wears Kiko Kostadinov Peregrine jacket, Linnet wrap culottes and Jaeger pumps.

Fatanat wears Kiko Kostadinov Gwendolyn sunglasses.

That relationship takes physical form inside the Melrose Hill shop, unfolding through a two-part imagined landscape that evokes an alien presence settling into the familiarity of a suburban setting. Raw scaffolding stretches through the space, surrounding an evolving sculptural installation that feels as though it is still in the process of arriving. There is a sense of interruption throughout where the familiar is made slightly strange, and the unfinished is left intentionally exposed, giving the collections a setting that shifts with each new iteration. As the team works within it and the clothes move through the space, the store becomes a backdrop that is never quite fixed, but continually responding to the world being built around it. It’s much like the eclectic community of creatives that would begin to make the space their own — where the store’s faux grass flooring and scaffolding suggest that a BBQ or friends’ backyard party is the quintessential setting to pull up and stay awhile.

Perhaps the clearest glimpse of what Kiko Kostadinov is building in Los Angeles comes through the moments that unfold within the space itself. At a Saturday morning breakfast hosted in collaboration with Rocky’s Matcha, I arrive with friends and almost immediately begin running into other friends, followed by friends of friends, followed by people I recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place, which, in a city as sprawling as L.A., feels like its own small miracle. “Michael?” A voice slowly approaches my periphery. “It’s Ezra. Kingdom.” I had written a story that was published that week about L.A.’s underground music scene and its influence on pop music, with a focus on Kingdom, the DJ and producer known for working with artists like Kelela, Rochelle Jordan and Tinashe, to name a few. We hadn’t met in person before this breakfast — just three days earlier, we had been DMing about the feature. In another space, this would have felt like a wild coincidence, but at Kiko, these serendipitous moments begin to feel almost expected.

What was supposed to be breakfast begins to take on the loose, slightly aimless feeling of a morning with nowhere particularly pressing to be, with matcha being passed around, conversations drifting between the tables and the clothes, and people continuing to find reasons to stay even after they have finished eating. There is something wonderfully unproductive about it, the kind of gathering where checking the time somehow becomes the very thing that makes you realize you’ve been there for another hour.

The same feeling seems to follow the store into the evening, as it did during a DJ set with Toxe, when the space gradually filled with friends, collaborators and people who had arrived knowing only one or two faces before finding themselves absorbed into a much larger constellation. Kostadinov tells me that “it’s been really exciting to see people come in and learn about our world and be part of it in some way,” and that the intention has always been to create “a place and a moment for people to gather.” Watching the evening stretch itself out, people linger by the door, start another conversation, promise to leave after one more song, and somehow find themselves still there 20 minutes later. It has the familiar, slightly chaotic feeling of leaving a friend’s house party, when nobody is quite ready to be the first person actually to walk out the door.

Being among the bodies in motion, a boutique is perhaps the last place your mind perceives you to be, but the clothes remain the quiet constant. It’s within this environment that the brand’s new fall/winter 2026 collection begins to slowly present itself, surrounded by the people and places that have increasingly become part of Kiko Kostadinov’s Los Angeles story. Known for an avant-garde yet minimal utilitarian approach to fashion over the last 10 years, punctuated by technical footwear collaborations with brands like Asics and an evolving womenswear line, Kostadinov has always occupied a space that can feel difficult to place immediately. “Kiko always tends to disorient people somehow,” Deanna shares. Perhaps that disorientation comes from the way the brand moves through time, pulling from references without necessarily revealing where one begins and another ends. “The other day someone was mentioning that we have a peculiar way of referencing history in a way that’s not linear,” Deanna says.

Kiko Kostadinov Gannet crochet pouch

Kostadinov himself describes the process more simply: “It’s really a diary. It’s collecting memories and putting them into a seasonal collection.” FW26, then, feels less like a departure than another entry into that ongoing record, where ideas gathered from different places, periods and personal experiences are allowed to sit beside one another until something new begins to emerge. Draped silhouettes and oversize parkas become an entry point into a vortex in which linearity doesn’t exist. Each piece of clothing within the collection nods to a futuristic past garnished by pops of primary colors while signaling toward a future of “systemized intuition” where utility is the ultimate framework.

Within the womenswear collection, an exploration of the natural world through the lens of bird-watching invites the viewer into an organic and rather iridescent plumage world — a curiosity that has been itching at the designers for some time. There is patience in that process, particularly in a fashion cycle that often demands immediate answers. “Some ideas need to take time to be put into the world and seen, not seen, challenged, liked and then, if they’re strong enough, they’ll remain a bit longer,” Kostadinov tells me.

Perhaps that is what feels most fitting about Kiko Kostadinov in L.A. The store, much like the collection, does not seem interested in arriving at a finished version of itself. It is still gathering people, references, conversations and the occasional unexpected encounter, allowing each to leave some small trace behind. On any given morning, that might mean a breakfast that runs long or a friend unexpectedly appearing across the room. At night, it might mean one more song, another conversation by the door, and a group of people who have somehow found another reason not to leave.

In a city where everything can feel fleeting, Kiko Kostadinov has created something that asks you to linger long enough for a memory to form — and perhaps, eventually, become part of the next collection.

Michael Anthony Hall is a Los Angeles-based writer, filmmaker, curator, and multidisciplinary artist.

Kiko Kostadinov Onate sleeveless shirt and Sargo shoes