How Connor McKnight Learned to Make Pants
Melvin Backman Speaks to the Engineering Student Turned Designer Creating Some of This Season’s Most Beautiful Clothes
- Interview: Melvin Backman
- Photography: D'Andre Williams
In the years leading to Connor McKnight the person becoming Connor McKnight the brand, there are several important pairs of pants: There were the ones he took apart in high school between scrolling Tumblr and working shifts at American Apparel. There were the ones he tried and failed to construct in college while he was foundering in his business major—“I didn't want to work for an advertising agency, I didn't wanna work for a bank, I didn't wanna be an accountant. So it was sort of like, what's the point?” And then there were the ones he sat down to sew during the early shut-in phase of the pandemic with an associates degree from Parsons and stints at Kith and Bode under his belt.
Responding to the turmoil of 2020’s Black Lives Matter protests, he created a collection of garments that first COVID summer pondering Black mundanity: earthy colors and constructions that conjure a mixture of classical tailoring and the techy streetwear seen around the city and suburbs of Washington, D.C., where he grew up. His signature branding is a silicone “CM” tag—it slides down the outer seam of his trousers and sweeps the bottom of a chesterfield-cum-trench-cum-puffer—that wouldn’t look out of place on a vintage Eddie Bauer piece.
His vision caught on quickly—he snagged a spot on the New York Fashion Week men’s calendar and was the inaugural winner of the Black in Fashion Council’s Season Zero Design Contest. At first he worked on his bedroom floor, now, at 28, he has a small basement studio. But as his brand grows and attention and investments start pouring in, he’s looking for new space and new vibes. Books and vintage fashion magazines cover the coffee table in his Brooklyn apartment and stuff the space under the tank of DHL, his pet turtle. It’s not clear where he plans to take things next—“I think that’s a secret,” he teased—it’s definitely somewhere, he’s definitely up to something.
Photography by Jackie Kursel, styling by Marion Kelly, and art direction by Carolina Vogt.
Melvin Backman
Connor McKnight
I saw in one of your earlier interviews that you've always been interested in clothes. You used to alter stuff that you got at the thrift store.
I learned how to sew when I started high school. It was just a hobby. You take things apart when you're not learning from a teacher—that's the easiest way to get a handle on what goes into making something, understanding what changes the fit of something.
Was clothing your primary interest in high school?
No, I was an athlete. I played baseball year-round growing up. I went to a private school freshman year of high school.
Did your school have a uniform? Was it a blazer-and-tie situation?
We did. No blazer. Some schools you could pick your trousers and your tie and stuff on a daily basis. Our school, you could not. So there were certain things that people would do: With your tie, there were red, blue, and white stripes, and you could actually remove the threads of the thinner stripes and it would change your tie. It’s definitely something that influenced me; you're thinking about ways that you can get around rules without getting caught.
It is always fun to be doing a weird little thing and you're not sure if anybody knows.
I was actually an engineering student. As a kid, I had these stacks of drawings of designs for cars. People ask you what you're gonna do when you grow up, and that was my answer.
What shifted you from cars to clothes?
I was in a math and sciences program, following that path. There’s a point where engineering gets more creative, but there's a lot to peel back. So when I graduated, and I went to Fordham, I chose business school. By sophomore year, I was sick of it. I ended up getting a minor in visual arts just to keep my sanity.
I remember trying to make a pair of pants fully from scratch and it was really difficult because I didn't know anything. But I was able to figure out that the pants didn't fit. I remember just being very frustrated by the whole experience because I was very close and excited for this thing that I made, but just wasn't quite there. Then I was like, what the hell am I gonna do next? So I ended up interning for a bit at this company, Liberty Fashion [& Lifestyle] Fairs.
It seems like you have a foot in both sides of fashion, you have the business interest and the aesthetic interest.
It's one of those weird industries where there is a very obvious commercial aspect to selling clothes. A lot of designers and creatives don't realize coming into it that it’s a very important part of being able to continue to create. Unless you're really wealthy [laughs]—some people are—you have to figure out some sort of model. I had the benefit of working at a couple places where they operated in very different ways, but they had a very strong business perspective.
After working at Liberty I ended up doing graphics at Kith for a bit. At Liberty Fairs, there was crossover. They would have 20 different drops in six months, so you’re really exercising the portion of your mind that starts to see, What is good design, what's successful? Between Kith and Bode I started [at] Parsons. I just found myself really wanting to be more involved in the clothing itself. The thing that I was missing was classic training.
Is there an advantage in being able to make your own clothes?
I wouldn't have been able to do what I did during the pandemic if I didn't know how to make clothes. I really like patternmaking, for example. Being able to try things and say_ I do like this, I don't like this_ is like being able to look under the hood of a car and say I want to upgrade this car somehow.
The lore that's built up for you so far is that you were at home in the pandemic and you were like, I gotta do something. And so you started making clothes.
I was really drawn to that solitude. So I made one thing, made another thing and kept doing it because I was having fun. And I think by somewhere, you know, eight, ten pieces in, you start to see like, OK, maybe I have some sort of an idea, how can I complete this? How can I make this into something that makes sense?
Seeing all the protests in the street was another catalyst. A lot of people were having this inner dialogue during that time, and I was trying to figure out what felt impactful or important for me. There was a lot of activity around supporting Black businesses, so there was a moment where I realized: I can release this collection in a couple months and it can go nowhere, but at least it was mine, you know?
There's that Audre Lorde quote—“the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.” Do you think that ownership within America’s various systems, or even shifting the way that people look at each other within all these systems, has a chance to get us where we need to go?
Black culture has an extensive influence over the industry that we work in. And I think that if the person at the top is making the decision from the position of an outsider every single time, I think there’s a point where them not getting it will impact the end result. So telling the story that I felt was mine was important. It's a start. I don't see my path as being a singular solution to all of our problems.
Are still you having the same questions and thoughts that you were having then?
It'll always be part of it for me. Since having started I have a little bit more space to see that there are a lot of people who are doing things similar to what I'm doing right now. And I think that's the beauty behind more representation and ownership amongst designers. There's no one person that can tell everybody's story.
I was trying not to do a “Black designer” question, but it does seem like there is a crop of Black storytellers in fashion, especially in menswear: [Grace] Wales Bonner, Nicholas Daley, Pyer Moss. Is the way that you think about Black storytelling part of this collective, or do you feel like you're on your own journey?
Definitely on my own journey. When you think about what is encompassed in the Black experience, there's all these different lanes. One of the difficulties I had when I was getting started was that I didn't really see myself. But after figuring out what that meant and how I could represent myself properly, I realized that I'm trying to tell the story that I feel resonates more with me. But it's all part of the same conversation.
Melvin Backman is a writer and editor based in New York.
- Interview: Melvin Backman
- Photography: D'Andre Williams
- Images/Photos Courtesy Of: Connor McKnight
- Date: August 8, 2022
