Some cities sell dreams. New York rents them by the square foot - no returns, no refunds. Here, building a legacy brand is less about mood boards and more about surviving the existential whiplash between runway fantasies and credit card statements. Can someone who wants to start it in New York make it in New York?
Somewhere in Brooklyn, a girl with a business degree and a Squarespace account just told her friends, “She’s building the next Hermès.” It’s a scene that plays out in coffee shops, co-working spaces, and very late at night. The audacity of ambition, the belief that a new project could one day become heritage, is as much a part of New York’s DNA as the skyline itself. But in 2025, in a city where the average rent is higher than your serotonin and your closet is smaller than your carry-on, dreaming big isn’t the only thing that costs extra. Is it really possible to get to the level of a brand like, say, Dior, that has weathered wars, revolutions, Galliano?
The numbers are cold; New York’s fashion industry generated $96 billion in sales in 2022, but that’s a 13.6% drop in gross city product since 2012. 50,000 fewer people are working in fashion compared to a decade ago, which means more open bars at industry parties, but fewer people attending them. It’s not easier in the other cities of the Big 4. Kathryn Wylde, CEO of the Partnership for New York City, put it best: “We’re still the fashion capital, certainly for innovation in ready-to-wear fashion. But the question is, ‘Will we be able to maintain that, given the challenges that we face today?’”
New York is still the city where “making it” still means something. Three years ago, over 2,600 fashion degrees were handed out by FIT, Parsons, and Pratt. Sure, completions are down 30% since 2016, but who needs a diploma when you have a viral moment and a good ring light? The real challenge is that young talent is getting priced out; the key to New York’s success is that it’s been attracting the wild, the weird, and the wildly weird. Now, many are working remotely, which means the next big thing could be designed in Bushwick… or Boise.
Meanwhile, retail is having its own identity crisis. Barneys is gone, Opening Ceremony got its own closing one, and Henri Bendel is now just a ghost haunting your credit card statement. But New York Fashion Week still brings in $600 million, and visitors spend more here than in Paris, London, or Milan. Apparently, the only thing New Yorkers love more than fashion is outspending the French.
And there are signs of hope for the young and gifted, even for the not-so-gifted. The city is investing in programs like M-CORE, which give tax breaks to developers who turn sad beige office buildings into creative hubs for fashion, arts, and tech. There are calls for a designer accelerator, a central campus, curated storefronts, and more industry-school partnerships. If you can’t find a mentor in New York, at least you can find a good bagel.
Fashion critic Alexander Fury warned, “Fashion will die without its new blood.” In other words, if the city doesn’t keep nurturing its next Halston or Telfar, we’ll all be left wearing last year’s Zara. But New York has a history of turning crises into comebacks: SoHo and Tribeca were once derelict, then artists moved in, and suddenly, everyone wanted a loft and a reason to wear black.
So, can you start a brand in New York and become a heritage? If you can survive the rent, the rejection, and the dread of seeing your ex at a pop-up, you just might. After all, in a city where the only thing more common than heartbreak is a launch, the next Hermès could be one Squarespace login away. Somewhere in Brooklyn, a girl is building her empire, and in New York, that’s always been the best show in town.
