There are mo­ments in fash­ion that do more than daz­zle; they shift the cul­tur­al ax­is. The night of Oc­to­ber 17 in Not­ting Hill, the epi­cen­tre of Caribbean en­er­gy in Eng­land, was one of them.

As the world’s cre­ative elite gath­ered for Frieze Lon­don, an un­ex­pect­ed heart­beat pulsed through the city’s art and fash­ion scene: Port of Call, SAGABOI’s art and cul­ture ex­trav­a­gan­za.

Staged in­side a raw, con­vert­ed horse sta­ble on Need­ham Road, SAGABOI’s Spring/Sum­mer 2026 col­lec­tion was un­veiled not mere­ly as fash­ion but as a recla­ma­tion of space, iden­ti­ty, and rhythm. Un­der the artis­tic di­rec­tion of Ge­off K Coop­er, the Trinidad-born de­sign­er from Moru­ga and cre­ative di­rec­tor of SAGABOI, the evening un­fold­ed like a po­em in mo­tion.

The 16-piece New Gen­er­a­tion Steel Or­ches­tra opened the night, set­ting a rhyth­mic pulse for an au­di­ence of ed­i­tors, col­lec­tors, tastemak­ers, and promi­nent fig­ures from the Caribbean di­as­po­ra.

“It wasn’t just mu­sic,” said Sham Ma­habir, founder of Lim­in South­bank, which was crowned Best Caribbean Restau­rant at the UK Caribbean Food Awards in March 2025. “It was a heart­beat, a re­minder of our soil and our soul. I cried a lit­tle. I felt home.”

That emo­tion­al charge nev­er wa­vered. The first mod­el stepped on­to the sand-hued run­way, draped in crisp linen tai­lor­ing, reimag­ined raf­fia, and SAGABOI’s now-sig­na­ture pan stick mo­tifs. This was fash­ion with spir­it, lux­u­ry laced with lega­cy.

Coop­er’s aes­thet­ic has al­ways been about cul­tur­al sov­er­eign­ty: Trinida­di­an in soul and glob­al in ex­e­cu­tion. SS26 was its fullest ex­pres­sion yet. The palette told a sto­ry of land and sea: coral, co­conut, steel­pan grey, and scar­let ibis red.

Be­yond the beau­ty, there was depth—the kind of ground­ed sto­ry­telling rarely achieved in lux­u­ry fash­ion. Port of Call placed Caribbean iden­ti­ty not on the pe­riph­ery of glob­al cul­ture but at its cen­tre.

Geoff Cooper

The im­mer­sive set, co-cre­at­ed by ar­chi­tect Jay­den Ali (JA Projects) and artist Michael Mapp, de­liv­ered a space that felt both cer­e­mo­ni­al and sym­bol­ic.

The floor was car­pet­ed in deep-sea blue, evok­ing Caribbean wa­ters; the run­way was paint­ed in a yel­low-sand tone, re­call­ing the warmth of is­land shores and nod­ding cheek­i­ly to the yel­low brick road.

Seat­ing was craft­ed from re­claimed red­wood bench­es, merg­ing sus­tain­abil­i­ty with vi­su­al strength.

Guests en­tered to Grey Goose® vod­ka cock­tails and can­dle­light—a vi­sion of Caribbean el­e­gance el­e­vat­ed. Every el­e­ment was in­ten­tion­al; every de­tail part of the sto­ry.

In sea­far­ing terms, a port of call is the first dock af­ter de­par­ture. In Caribbean life, it is where you go when some­thing must be said or set right. For Coop­er, Port of Call be­came all of these: a cul­tur­al check­point, a styl­is­tic state­ment, and a cer­e­mo­ni­al re­turn.

The show opened with the New Gen­er­a­tion Steel Or­ches­tra and closed with a soar­ing col­lab­o­ra­tion be­tween Grena­di­an so­ca star Mr Kil­la and BLAK­GOLD, SAGABOI’s long-time mu­si­cal part­ner.

“This isn’t about es­cape. It’s about pres­ence,” said Coop­er. “To re­turn home with­out apol­o­gy. To car­ry our style like lan­guage, and our cul­ture like com­pass.”

Mod­els moved through the space in di­rec­tion­al tai­lor­ing, over­sized Bermu­das, and cer­e­mo­ni­al cro­chet twin­sets. Root­ed in rhythm and mem­o­ry, the sil­hou­ettes glid­ed with in­ten­tion, of­fer­ing a pow­er­ful tes­ta­ment to Caribbean re­sis­tance and re­gal­i­ty.

Three flag-bear­er looks paid homage to Bar­ba­dos, Ja­maica, and Trinidad and To­ba­go, with colours drawn from their na­tion­al flags. The fi­nal look, a scar­let ibis-red suit, brought the show to a tri­umphant close as the mod­el car­ried the Trinidad & To­ba­go flag through the space.

The week­end that fol­lowed proved Port of Call was not just a fash­ion event but a mul­ti­dis­ci­pli­nary state­ment. Vis­i­tors en­coun­tered sculp­tur­al in­stal­la­tions, pho­to­graph­ic works, and pro­jec­tion-based art that ex­tend­ed the run­way’s con­ver­sa­tion in­to the vi­su­al realm.

The con­ver­sa­tions were equal­ly pow­er­ful. A se­ries of talks ex­am­ined how Caribbean cul­ture can and must oc­cu­py greater space with­in glob­al art and fash­ion. The week­end cul­mi­nat­ed with a poignant pan­el dis­cus­sion ti­tled “The (Mul­ti)Cul­tur­al Ports of Call: A Vibes Check on Art, Cre­ativ­i­ty, Cul­ture and Di­as­po­ra.”

The dis­cus­sion echoed what the show had al­ready made clear: Caribbean cre­ativ­i­ty is not a trend; it is a lin­eage.

Port of Call was more than a show. It was a sum­mon­ing. “This col­lec­tion was about ho­n­our­ing Caribbean boy­hood and man­hood as sa­cred, not sec­ondary,” Coop­er said. “It’s about re­turn­ing to your own rhythm. On that run­way, we weren’t just show­ing looks. We were show­ing a way of life. I hope peo­ple felt that.”

Melis­sa Si­mon-Hart­man, the award-win­ning Trinida­di­an cos­tume de­sign­er cel­e­brat­ed for her work with Be­y­on­cé and at Not­ting Hill Car­ni­val, con­grat­u­lat­ed Coop­er on his “mag­nif­i­cent achieve­ment,” say­ing the show was un­for­get­table and Caribbean cul­ture at its finest.

For Trinidad and To­ba­go, and for the Caribbean at large, Port of Call was more than a pre­sen­ta­tion. It was a de­c­la­ra­tion: our sto­ries be­long on the world stage, on the run­way, in the gal­leries, and in the con­ver­sa­tions that shape glob­al cul­ture.

As Sham Ma­habir said, still emo­tion­al days lat­er, “It wasn’t just high fash­ion. It was us. Wear­able, cool, au­then­tic, and world-class.”

Caribbean cre­ativ­i­ty is not ar­riv­ing. It has ar­rived. And Lon­don, for one un­for­get­table week­end, was its first port of call.