photography JAKE EVANS
Hackney is scorching. The kind of heat that London pretends it never has. In his studio, Sage Toda-Nation—half Japanese, half British—stands tall, unhurried, dressed in a boxy white tee and black wool pants stitched with his signature “fossil” detail. Outside, the air shimmers. We bail. Cigarettes from the corner shop, then a table at a café in a sliver of shade, where Sage leans back, calm and precise, and says with a half-smile, “I don’t really believe in overcomplicating things. Get the cut right, get the fabric right, and the rest will follow.”
Sounds simple enough, but to understand the scale of what Toda-Nation is talking about, you have to know YMC—short for “You Must Create.” Launched in London in 1995 by Fraser Moss and Jimmy Collins, it stood apart from the start: minimalism with a pulse; clean, utilitarian clothes that could still pull off a wink. The early years carried a post-punk charge, drawing on workwear, sportswear, and military influences without tipping into costume. While many of its ’90s contemporaries faded, YMC stayed the course, building a loyal audience across generations.
When Moss passed away in 2023, Collins faced a pivotal decision. He wanted someone who could protect YMC’s spirit but also energize it. He met Toda-Nation in Paris. Timing and a shared respect for what the brand stood for sealed the deal. By then, Toda-Nation had already carved out a space with Sage Nation, the label he launched in 2020 almost by accident. He was in his final year at Kingston University when COVID froze the industry. With no jobs in sight, he began making clothes because people kept asking for them. The first capsule, featuring one-off pieces shot by a friend, caught the attention of Japanese buyers. Orders came in. The brand was born.
From the outset, Sage Nation was stripped-back but not sterile. Minimalism, symmetry, and silhouette became its pillars. Archetypes—the trench coat, the trucker jacket, the perfect pants—were taken apart and rebuilt with subtle invention. Fabric was everything: denim from Kojima, Japan; wool from Scottish family mills; knitwear from Italy. “It has to come from the place that does it best,” he says.
The process always started with pants. Once the silhouette was locked, everything else fell into place. Over time, certain signatures emerged: the “fossil” seam, a discreet box pleat hidden inside a pocket, ruching that added movement without compromising structure. Details you only notice up close. At YMC, the approach shifts. “With my brand, it’s all me,” he says. “With YMC, it’s about listening to what they’ve built and finding ways to keep it alive.”
He spends hours in the archive, pulling pieces with the right bones, then works them into collections that feel contemporary without erasing their origin. For Fall 2025, heavier fabrics and richer colors sit alongside re-engineered silhouettes and his trademark precision in pattern work. One standout is the Bonehead Jacket. Named after Oasis co-founder and rhythm guitarist Paul “Bonehead” Arthurs, it distilled the music, culture, and energy of the decade when YMC first took shape. This summer, Liam Gallagher wore it onstage at the Oasis Reunion Tour in Edinburgh’s Murrayfield Stadium. “It’s a bridge,” Toda-Nation says. “Past to present, without watering down either.”
Part of YMC’s appeal is its refusal to belong to a single generation. On any given afternoon in the Soho store, a teenager in oversized denim might stand in line behind a 50-year-old buying a tailored coat. Toda-Nation is determined to preserve that reach. “The trick,” he says, “is knowing when to surprise people and when to give them what they already love.”
Balancing two brands means shifting mental gears daily. Sage Nation runs on instinct, a distilled version of his own taste. YMC requires editing, interpretation, and a certain humility. He calls himself a “vessel” for the brand’s sensibility, applying his eye for silhouette and construction while resisting the urge to overwrite its identity. His world stays deliberately compact. At Sage Nation, his girlfriend Yumi Carter casts and produces; her mother shapes the patterns. At YMC, many of the team have been there for years. “Fashion is about people,” he says. “If you’ve got the right people, you can make anything work.”
Neither label chases disposable trends. There are no forced seasonal “themes.” Instead, Toda-Nation focuses on refining what works, trimming what doesn’t, and keeping every piece grounded in wearability. “Clothes should feel like they belong in your life,” he says. “Not just your closet.”
The café hums as the cigarettes burn down and the heat eases from oppressive to almost pleasant. Sage talks about cooking Japanese home dishes—grilled fish, nabe, nikujaga—and a growing interest in ceramics, alongside a fondness for Takashi Homma’s photography. Music drifts into the conversation: the Britpop soundtrack of his teens, Japanese jazz, Ethiopian fusion. For him, it’s never about direct translation into clothes, but about rhythm and mood—the same instincts that shape the cut of his pants or the drape of a jacket.
Side by side, Sage Nation and YMC share a through-line: control of proportion, precision in execution, respect for fabric. Yet Sage Nation feels like a self-portrait, while YMC, in his hands, reads like a love letter written in someone else’s language, in his own script.
It’s early days, but Toda-Nation is already looking ahead. He talks about growing Sage Nation’s direct-to-consumer reach, keeping YMC independent while expanding its scope, and producing in runs small enough that each piece feels rare. The vision is disciplined yet generous, rooted in the belief that clothes should serve life, not the other way around. “They’re not for saving,” he says. “Wear them hard, live in them. Let them take on your shape. That’s when they really belong to you.”
