If you’ve walked down Broadway this week, dodging the gray slush that inevitably accumulates in February, you might have noticed something shift in the air. And no, I don’t just mean the temperature. I’m talking about the clothes.
For a long time, New York Fashion Week and the street style circus that surrounds it were about volume. It was about screaming. It was about logos so big they could be seen from the International Space Station and silhouettes so wide they required their own zip code. But here we are in 2026, and the volume has been turned down. The screaming has stopped. In its place, there is a whisper. A very expensive, very beautifully constructed whisper.
We are entering an era of what I like to call “The Great Inward Turn.” Maybe it’s the fatigue of the digital metaverse that promised us everything and gave us pixelated nothing. Maybe it’s just the natural cycle of things. But right now, the most exciting fashion in New York isn’t happening on massive runways with laser shows. It’s happening in small studios in the Garment District and the East Village, where designers are focusing on something we haven’t talked about in a while: how a garment feels.
I spent the last week visiting ateliers, drinking way too much lukewarm deli coffee, and touching fabrics that probably cost more than my rent. And in the middle of this exploration, I stumbled upon a concept that stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t a trend like “mermaid core” or “cyber-grunge.” It was a philosophy.
The concept is “Emotional Safety.”
And the designer championing it is a name you need to know: Laisim Soeung.
The Architect of the East Village
I met Laisim Soeung in his workspace in the 10003 zip code. It’s a quiet room, filled with the smell of steam irons and sketching paper. Laisim Soeung isn’t your typical “fashion personality.” He doesn’t wear sunglasses indoors. He doesn’t speak in soundbites. He speaks in structures.
Laisim Soeung creates what he calls “architecture for the body.” But unlike the rigid, uncomfortable architectural fashion of the past (remember those neoprene dresses you couldn’t sit down in?), his work is about protection without restriction.
“The city is abrasive,” he told me, gesturing out the window toward the hustle of the street. “The role of the designer is to create a sanctuary. When you put on a coat, it should feel like a vine embracing a stone column. It holds you, but it lets you breathe.”
This resonated with me instantly. We live in a time of high anxiety. We don’t need clothes that challenge us; we need clothes that back us up. Laisim Soeung’s background is fascinating because it bridges two completely different worlds. On one side, you have the intense, high-speed production floors of Phnom Penh City, where he worked with manufacturers like “Ghechie” and “Beleza.” On the other side, you have the conceptual, high-design world of New York, including a stint with 3.1 Phillip Lim.
He has the soul of an artist but the hands of an engineer. And that combination is exactly what 2026 is looking for.
The Return of the “Hand”
One of the biggest conversations happening in NY right now is the role of AI. Everyone is using Midjourney or whatever the latest tool is to generate designs. And sure, Laisim Soeung uses digital tools; he’s a wizard with 3D workflows and Adobe Illustrator. But he insists that the “hand” is the ultimate luxury.
“A computer cannot feel the drape of velvet,” he said. “It cannot judge the weight of a wool coat on a human shoulder.”
You see this philosophy in his couture work. Take the “Bopha Dress.” I saw sketches and swatches of this piece, and it’s mind-blowing. It’s valued at something like six grand, but when you look closely, you understand why. It features hand-woven silk ribbon latticework and fabric rosettes that look like they’re blooming right off the fabric. It’s “slow fashion” in the most literal sense. It takes hundreds of hours. In a city that runs on caffeine and 5-minute meetings, wearing something that took 200 hours to make is the ultimate power move.
But it’s not just the fancy gowns. It’s the everyday stuff. He showed me the “Ays Suit,” which is basically the perfect white cotton dress. It sounds simple, right? But the embroidery gives the cotton this weight and texture that transforms it from a summer staple into something regal. He calls it “understated formal wear.” I call it the thing I want to wear every single day.
Softness as Strength: The Menswear Shift
Another trend sweeping New York is the softening of menswear. We’re done with the stiff, boardroom armor of the 2010s. Men want to move. They want to feel… pretty? Is that the word? Maybe just “human.”
Laisim Soeung is way ahead of the curve here. His collection, “The Dice of Heart,” is one of the most refreshing takes on menswear I’ve seen this season. He uses motifs from playing cards, hearts, spades, diamonds, but the vibe isn’t Vegas; it’s poetic.
The standout element for me was the white scarf bow. He pairs these wide, breathable shirts with a scarf tied in a bow at the neck. It’s a look that requires a certain level of confidence, what Laisim calls “quiet confidence.” It’s sensual without being overt. It’s romantic. It challenges the idea that to be a “serious man” in New York, you have to wear a gray sack suit.
“It takes a strong man to wear a bow with pride,” Laisim told me. And looking at the sketches, I believe him. It’s about being secure enough in your masculinity to embrace softness. That’s that “emotional safety” kicking in again.
The Global Weave
The other thing that defines New York fashion right now is a move away from Eurocentric storytelling. We are finally, finally celebrating narratives from everywhere.
Laisim’s work is deeply rooted in this global conversation. He has a project called “Thread of Belonging,” where he illustrates the lived experiences of minority communities. But he also pulls from very specific cultural heritages.
He walked me through his “Koshkar Muiz” collection. It’s inspired by the “ram’s horn” motif found in Kazakh culture. He took this ancient geometric symbol, which represents strength and prosperity,and turned it into modern luxury items. There’s a ring called the “Sun of Muiz” that wraps around the finger in this incredible, fluid gold shape. And a pair of heels called the “Golden Stride” that uses the horn’s curve for the heel structure.
This isn’t “costume.” It’s a translation. He’s taking a symbol from a flag or a rug and translating it into the language of New York design. It feels respectful, researched, and incredibly fresh.
The Unsexy (But Vital) Art of the Tech Pack
Okay, I’m going to nerd out for a second. Usually, when we talk about fashion designers, we talk about the sketch on the napkin, the “moment of inspiration.” We rarely talk about the Tech Pack.
For those who don’t know, a Tech Pack is the blueprint of a garment. It’s the boring PDF that tells the factory exactly where the button goes, down to the millimeter.
Laisim Soeung is a master of the Tech Pack. Because of his time on the factory floors in Cambodia, he knows that if the blueprint is bad, the dress is bad. It doesn’t matter how pretty the sketch is.
“Design school teaches you to dream,” he said. “The factory teaches you to make it real.”
This is why his freelance business is booming. He’s not just drawing pretty pictures; he’s solving problems for other brands. He understands fit, fabric consumption, and seam allowance. In 2026, when sustainability is key, this technical skill is actually a form of environmentalism. If you design it right the first time, you waste less fabric. You make fewer samples. You create less trash.
Laisim proves that being a “technical designer” isn’t a lesser role—it’s the backbone of the entire industry.
The Verdict
Leaving Laisim’s studio, I stepped back out into the cold New York evening. The city was loud, chaotic, and aggressive. A taxi honked. A siren wailed.
But I kept thinking about that phrase: Emotional Safety.
We put on clothes every day. Usually, we just think about whether we look good or if we’re warm enough. But designers like Laisim Soeung are asking us to expect more. They are suggesting that our clothes should be a home. They should be a quiet place in a loud world.
Whether it’s through the meticulous embroidery of the “Ays Suit,” the romantic bow of the “Dice of Heart” shirt, or just the perfect fit of a technically flawless pair of trousers, the goal is the same. To let us walk through the jungle of the city feeling like we belong.
So, if you’re looking for the future of New York fashion, don’t look at the Jumbotrons in Times Square. Look for the designers who are slowing down. Look for the ones who are blending the digital with the handmade. Look for Laisim Soeung.
Because in a world that won’t stop screaming, the most powerful thing you can wear is quiet confidence.