Open letter to The Row - we need to break up

It's not me, it's you.

Five years ago, I was just a girl on a bench in her room, talking into a mic. Then you arrived, all quiet luxury and runway invitations, and it felt like love at first sight. You courted me, welcomed me into your showroom, made a fuss over me in-store, and handed me VIP access to sample sales. You swaggered, and I swooned. You seemed like the perfect partner, and you were undeniably the best dressed.

But our honeymoon, dazzling as it was, didn’t last long, as the red flags appeared early. I slowly began to realize that you were far from an ideal partner, and with the benefit of hindsight, it’s clear to me now that I was seeing you through rose-coloured Row glasses.

You tried to control me, to dictate my work, to downplay what I’d built, and all the while, you profited from my efforts. But the hardest part was that you became increasingly (and unforgivably) rude. Your charm was beguiling and performative. A supple, leather-gloved kind of control.

Only once did I take you to task for your transgressions, and for a brief moment, I believed your response. You apologized, made promises, and pretended to soften. But your contrition wasn’t sincere, it was strategy. Damage control disguised as decency. A calculated effort to buy my silence.

For the record, I’m not asking anything of you. You’re free to run your life as you wish, but what I won’t tolerate is the disrespect. And I don’t care for the hypocrisy either. You don’t crave quiet. If you did, you wouldn’t court the journalists, the Jenner, and the others who leverage their loudspeakers. You want the noise, but only when it’s echoed by your chosen few. It’s the same tired theatre of class, elitism, and exclusion.

I truly thought you’d value having someone like me by your side. Someone who sang your praises even when they were undeserved, understood your craft, and was fiercely loyal. I strove to be the ultimate partner.

Your loss.

I considered a clean break, but that would hurt me more than you. I’ve invested too much time, money, and emotion to pretend nothing went on between us. So I’ll keep what’s worth keeping and carry it with me, but the relationship (if any) we have now will be on my terms. My commentary will be free and unfiltered, and as loud or quiet as I alone deem fit. The days of you trying to muzzle me in public or private are officially over.

This is all so unfortunate because few brands have spoken to me the way you do. But I’ve never felt so good in my clothes and so bad in my heart, and style isn’t worth self-sacrifice. You took advantage of my patience and my kindness. I should have packed my Margaux bags and gone long ago.

And one last thing, honestly, take a breath. It’s fashion, not open-heart surgery. It’s an expression of joy, beauty, creativity, and freedom. It’s meant to be fun! Stop taking yourself so seriously. Stop policing admiration and chasing people down to erase photo evidence of it. They’re not stealing from you, they’re celebrating you.

This letter will very likely mean nothing to you as you’re at the height of your influence. But as you move forward in your ambition to shape culture, taste, and aspiration on a global scale, a simple plea… wield your power mindfully. There’s plenty of opportunity here to be had for both The Row and its swelling constellation of partners and clients. Please do better.

Neelam