From Kerala to late Tracing London-based designer Harri KS’s unlikely rise
Harikrishnan Keezhathil Surendran Pillai, or Harri KS, is no stranger to latex. Long before the Kerala-born designer founded his label Harri following his graduation from
Harikrishnan Keezhathil Surendran Pillai, or Harri KS, is no stranger to latex. Long before the Kerala-born designer founded his label Harri following his graduation from the London College of Fashion’s Master of Arts Fashion Design Technology (Menswear) programme in 2020, he was helping his father, Surendran Pillai, on their small plantation (under one acre) in Kollam. The process was direct. “In Kerala, latex production is part of everyday life,” he says. “You tap the tree in the morning, collect the latex, begin forming sheets by afternoon, and then dry and cure them over time to create the final raw material.” He is quick to clarify the distinction: what his father produces is raw, agricultural latex, largely destined for industrial use. “I use fashion-grade latex for my clothes.” Hari’s work is known for its sculptural, inflated latex garments, particularly the now-recognisable balloon trousers. In Kerala, rubber is not so much a formal plantation economy as a dispersed, domestic one. Introduced in the early 20th century, the crop thrives in the state’s humid midlands. Kerala accounts for the majority of India’s natural rubber—once over 90%, now closer to three-quarters as cultivation expands elsewhere, according to the Rubber Board of India. Much of it comes from small holdings, often tucked into backyards across districts like Kottayam and Kollam, where production folds into everyday life. Harri did not set out to become a designer. If anything, he was trying to break free from the expectations society placed on him to become either a doctor or an engineer. His early ambition was simply to leave home after finishing school at St. Jude’s in Kollam. Admission to the Institute of Fashion Technology in Bangalore in 2012 became, as he puts it, “that exit.” Before fashion, however, there was bodybuilding — a discipline he pursued seriously in the years leading up to that move. It is here that the foundations of his design language were laid. “When you’re in that world, you start to really understand and appreciate form, because bodybuilding is entirely about that,” he says.
The practice demanded attention to proportion and symmetry that would later carry into his work. In Kollam, it was never seen as a viable path. “My parents didn’t see bodybuilding as an option,” he recalls, describing early mornings in Bengaluru, waking at 5am to train even before his first day at NIFT. What endured was the philosophy behind bodybuilding. “It’s about constantly chasing a version of yourself that feels impossible. You’re never really satisfied,” says Harri. Fashion, he realised, followed a similar rhythm. Each collection feels definitive until it isn’t. “When I finished my graduate collection, I thought, ‘This is it.’ But then, a couple of years later, there was something new,” Harri remembers. That graduate collection, Let’s Put Him in a Vase, marked a turning point. Developed at the London College of Fashion, it arrived without much expectation from those around him. “A lot of people I was studying with were quite surprised it became what it did,” he says. The response was immediate. Images travelled quickly, the work drew attention, and something that had begun as a personal exercise in form became widely visible. “It’s lovely that London rewards people who take a chance,” he says. That early recognition translated into more formal support. Harri became part of the British Fashion Council’s NEWGEN programme, which provides funding, mentorship, and a platform within London Fashion Week. Since his debut on the London schedule in 2023, he has shown six runway collections, the latest being his Spring/Summer 2026 outing, MuseumWear. The pieces in the collection move across familiar categories — bomber jackets, long coats, denim sets, tailored trousers, knitwear — but they’re all slightly unsettled, as if he has not quite let them sit comfortably in their usual roles. Latex, which once dominated his work, is still present but redistributed. It appears in inflated sleeves on otherwise simple t-shirts, in the structure of jackets, and in surfaces that catch light differently depending on how you move. It is no longer the entire garment but a disruption within it.
The BriefWire