Finnish designer Ervin Latimer has carved an unconventional path to recognition, with his work featured in the Metropolitan Museum’s Superfine: Tailoring Black Style exhibition. From his drag persona Anna Konda to his satirical explorations of toxic masculinity, Latimer moves deftly between serious luxury and joyful subversion.
The two Met looks are from your SS24 collection inspired by characters like Jordan Belfort and Patrick Bateman. What fascinated you about these hyper-masculine men?
Everything. The collection was about how men in positions of power use garments to extend and communicate that power, especially when their behavior is erratic and almost primal. Most of Wolf of Wall Street, Jordan Belfort is coked up and super messy, but there's this perception of leadership and credibility that 1980s tailoring helped communicate.
I found it to be a fruitful starting point for design. The collection was a satire, not a celebration, of this. There's always something wrong with the proportions of the garments. The opening look, a gray suit with a tube-top-like piece that resembled a straight jacket, was inspired by a scene in the film where they have to tie Jordan Belfort to his chair on the plane so he won't grope women. This brought in the idea of restriction, not just in behavior but also how traditional, heteronormative masculinity can be restrictive for many men.
We have mandatory military service here. I did officer training, which is basically a school for masculinity. They literally teach you how to speak in a commanding way, how to use your voice and poise. There's something fascinating about guys hyping each other up to be as manly as possible.
Two of your looks were featured in The Met’s Superfine: Tailoring Black Style exhibition. How did that come about?
They reached out at the end of 2024, which honestly was a complete shock. I had already planned to visit the exhibition because its themes closely align with what I teach and create. What stood out to me was that these conversations around Black masculinity aren’t just American. They extend to Finland, to Scandinavia, the Baltics. Seeing Finnish design included in that context was significant.
I still don't know who exactly pitched me. Usually in this industry, you can point to a connection, but this was genuinely surprising. To be placed next to Bianca Saunders, Virgil Abloh's Off-White, Maximilian Davis, all these Black pioneers of the industry, was incredibly humbling.
Had you previously drawn from Black dandyism in your work?
Not consciously, but the themes are definitely there. My relationship to Black masculinity, as a brown queer person in Finland, and the son of a Black man, is woven into the work. My father was a Black entrepreneur; before that, he was a professional basketball player. After the Soviet Union fell, he ran businesses in Estonia, including one of the first places to introduce quintessentially American foods like hot dogs there. He had a big Tex-Mex restaurant in Tallinn.
For him, clothing was about being taken seriously in professional spaces, like when negotiating bank loans. There's this advice immigrants and people of color tend to get from their elders that you need to look extra "put together" because people may underestimate you.
You presented your first collection at Pitti Uomo under your drag persona Anna Konda. There's often tension between what's fun in fashion and what's deemed serious or luxury.
Being a queer person of color in Finland, I'm often labeled as an activist. People assume I'm super serious, don't smile, can't joke.
However, while the themes in my work may be serious, the creative process is joyous. The decision to present in drag at Pitti Uomo was a deliberate contrast to the "Pitti peacocks". Me as Anna Konda presenting looks on models from the Finnish ballroom scene definitely stood out.
Still, do you feel pressure to appear serious for high-end customers?
There's this simplistic interpretation I don't like: "Oh, it's another queer brand doing queer stuff." Usually queer fashion is seen as really loud, effeminate or jokey like Palomo Spain or Jeremy Scott. In contrast, Black and Brown fashion is often expected to be very research-heavy and serious like Grace Wales Bonner, who I absolutely adore.
I try to position myself somewhere in between. You can draw from queer culture, ballroom, and the history of cross-dressing without being just loud or superficial. It’s possible to be thoughtful and still have fun.
Before starting Latimmier you've worked on womenswear at Alyx and Heliot Emil. How has that shaped your approach to what we call menswear?
At Alyx, even the womenswear had a masculine flair. Many pieces were feminized takes on the brand’s menswear. Gender wasn't really something we were forced to consider.
For Latimmier, if we were in a department store, we'd probably be in the menswear section. But I hesitate to call it menswear because it’s about the performance of masculinity. I don't like calling it unisex either, because ‘unisex’ usually means menswear garments that women can wear without sacrificing their masculinity. Look at any brand's unisex selection - it's trousers and pants, not dresses and skirts.
Your silhouettes tend to be quite generous and relaxed. How do you approach oversized garments?
There's this misconception that oversized is easy - just scale everything up and it will look good. But oversized garments that actually look right are difficult to make. If the proportions are wrong, it's just a bag. Even when designing for curvier bodies you still need to think about shoulders, arm and leg lengths, proportions. You need to think about the material, how the garment is supported, how it falls, whether it keeps its shape.
It's a balancing act. We spend quite a lot of time on trousers especially - that's the trickiest thing to make work for different bodies while maintaining that relaxed fit.
How do you operate within the ecosystem of fashion giants like LVMH?
We keep things quite traditional: fabric mills and production within the EU. The biggest challenge is producing in small quantities. Our production runs are so small we might survive with sampling quantities.
I launched a sublabel this fall under my own name, initially aimed at the Finnish market. For five years I've been designing prints for a local heritage interior design company, bags for another company - this puts all these collaborations under one roof, plus lifestyle products and fashion pieces that I produce. All made from deadstock or pre/post-consumer waste. I don’t want to lead marketing with the word "sustainable," though. That word’s been hollowed out.
We might have books, creative tools like scissors, one-off pieces from friends - a lot of interesting, joyous, slightly weird things. The hope is it will bring steadier cash flow and let me not take compromises with Latimmier.
Finland is a tricky market for anything more expensive than Marimekko. We've branded ourselves as this design country, and people understand paying for an Arabia vase or Aalto chair, but it doesn't extend to garments. There's this cultural thing where showing wealth through visible clothing is somehow not socially acceptable compared to that expensive thing in your cabinet at home.
You teach at Aalto University. How do you see the next generation approaching fashion?
There’s definitely enthusiasm, but it's shifted. A lot of young designers are brilliant at creating visuals, silhouettes, and moodboards. But construction? It varies. Some are extremely skilled and go deep. They dissect vintage blazers, study pattern making, understand fabrics. Others are more focused on the image. However at Aalto our students stand out for how they really consider what their clothes are about, not just what they look like.
Fashion has become so integrated into popular culture that it attracts a wider range of people now, which is great. But there is a trade-off. We’re seeing more emphasis on the visual and less on the tactile, physical experience of garments.
Do you push for practical garment-making skills?
Coming from the industry, I care a lot about product quality. How does an idea become a functional product? Some people new to the industry have this misconception that creation means collecting a moodboard and that becomes the end product without any interpretation or personal POV. But there needs to be depth, development, understanding of fabric and construction.
A jacket can be the coolest design ever, but if it lacks pockets or the lining irritates the skin, no one will wear it. That’s part of design too. As a professor of practice, I always ask: Could this be produced? Could someone realistically wear it outside?
Our school has incredible facilities: weaving, knitting, dyeing, printing, metalwork, woodwork, ceramics, robot cutters, laser cutters. But each look can cost hundreds or even thousands to make, and students making multiple looks means finances become a big factor.
Where do you see menswear heading? Especially as fashion becomes more fluid?
I'm really happy menswear finally matters. For the longest time, fashion was basically womenswear. Now what rappers, NBA players, Formula One drivers wear is considered interesting. It's acceptable for traditionally masculine people in aspirational positions to express themselves through style.
My hope is that we move back toward niche aesthetics - real subcultures, not €600 Rammstein t-shirts by luxury labels. Something with authenticity and vision. And maybe, through that, we revive an appreciation for garment-making itself.
Like a new dandyism.
Exactly. The original dandies weren’t conservative - they showed their values, background, and culture while challenging society. That’s where I hope fashion is heading.
Story by Kamila KučíkováPhotography by Silver Mikiver