In his first year at the Royal College of Art the show opened with a group project of paper clothes; I was there. As his contribution, Antony sent a model out in one clean, plain white paper mini dress. As she skipped down the catwalk she carried a huge Kleenex-type box which contained, according to the logo on the side, “Dispodress”. She pulled them out and flung them at the audience – what better than a series of simple disposable white paper dresses you customised yourself?
I already knew Antony’s name through a mutual friend and followed his progress across the years. Another friend, Brian Harris, who was at RCA the same year as Ossie Clark, did hats and accessories and worked on styling with Antony, so I heard stories. Many of which echoed around a much smaller fashion pack back in those days. I’m sure many are being recalled at this moment.
Antony was one of those young men who came to London to study and embraced the life and loves of its fast-paced Swinging 60s culture. He mixed with musicians, artists, photographers, and hairdressers, all of whom were pushing London fashion into the second half of the twentieth century with gusto. No more county tweeds, or Mrs Exeter; it was a revolutionary time for fashion and the world looked to London for its youthful, adventuresome fashion, from hairstylists to models.
The basic facts are: Antony Price was born in Keighley in 1945. He entered Bradford School of Art aged 16 and moved on to the RCA in 1965. He did womenswear for two years and graduated in menswear three years later. Immediately after he left college he joined the then-hot label Stirling Cooper, based in Wigmore Street, where he designed sexy, sharply tailored menswear. He then moved on to Che Guevara and in 1979 launched Plaza on the King’s Road.
During these years, and beyond, his clothes were worn by Mick Jagger; he styled the first eight albums of Roxy Music, the back cover of Lou Reed’s Transformer album, and created the spiral zip dress worn on the cover of Nova magazine by Amanda Lear in 1970. In 1982 he collaborated with Duran Duran, designing suits for their Rio video, and in 1983 he staged a “Fashion Extravaganza” at Camden Palace, followed a year later by another extravaganza at the Hippodrome nightclub. There have been boutiques in Brook Street and Chelsea, nominations for awards, and collaborations with British brands and with Daphne Guinness, even a line for Topman in 2008. On the 18th of November 2025, Marco Capaldo, creative director of 16Arlington, revealed they had collaborated with Antony Price, and he took a reluctant bow at the end and was applauded to the rafters. It was a fitting final appearance centre stage, where he should always have been.
Running a fashion business in London has always been a challenge, and especially when you have exacting standards on fit, cut, and fabrics, it’s a tough path. Across the decades Antony Price worked across many projects and with many people; his ideas started with expertise in style history, in construction, and he could put pen to paper and draw his ideas. He was a template in many ways for the skills a great designer needs, but he never quite made it onto the international circuit or joined a luxury house. His ups and downs made his name a secret to many who were not insiders or had knowledge of his brilliance.
Antony Price worked on lots of projects and one-off pieces with big names over the years, from Marie Helvin and Jerry Hall to Dita von Teese and Pamela Anderson, from Bryan Ferry to Simon Le Bon. The crossover between music and fashion we take for granted today was forged by London and by people like Antony Price working with Steve Strange or David Bowie, by bands and performers who worked with designers to create exclusive looks and make statements, create moods, and grab attention.
In both menswear and womenswear, Antony understood sexiness through construction and structure; men’s trousers cut in a ziggurat shape to mound the bottom, diagonal drapes spiralling around the body to enhance the curves of a woman. He understood mood, from military to Gone with the Wind, or from dense black tailoring to shimmering, glittering metallics. He understood fabric and colour and their power in selection to achieve the right outcome and image. Indeed, he understood image — the story you wish to tell through your clothes and who you are presenting to the world; role play perhaps, but totally convincing in the hands of Antony Price.
I remember at one catwalk show how we yelled and applauded, whooped, and cheered. Many of the boyfriends of the famous female models were out front, and the “hand-picked” male models produced their own catcalls and whistles. It was a glorious combination of fashion show and party, and it had, as always with Antony Price, an edge. Underlying the glamour was always a hint of a fight, a touch of menace, and this was all part of his work. A powerful presence resided in his creations, and I remember talking to Malcolm McLaren backstage after the first Hippodrome show; he seemed enthusiastic but also slightly wrong-footed by the atmosphere, which had been very dark.
Antony Price dressed you to win, to be the best, to make people look at you and to empower you. He loved to transform you into his vision of how you should look, stand, and behave. Perhaps this is why those of us who have worn the clothes and who understand what he did to us mourn his passing. We will never be better dressed than when we wore Antony Price.
