Published: October 17, 2025, 21:45 EDT
When far-right demonstrators filled the streets of London last September, another symbol appeared among the flags and banners — the logo of Italian fashion house Stone Island. Worn by protest organizer Tommy Robinson and many of his followers, the brand’s iconic compass emblem unexpectedly found itself at the center of a political controversy.
More than 110,000 people joined the anti-immigration rally, one of Britain’s largest in decades. While Robinson and his supporters did not explicitly claim Stone Island as a far-right symbol, their frequent use of the brand has raised questions about what happens when extremist figures embrace luxury or subcultural fashion.
From Fashion Statement to Political Symbol
Tommy Robinson — the far-right activist and founder of the English Defence League — has been seen wearing Stone Island for years. Photographs show him in the brand’s jackets at protests, court appearances, and public rallies. His choice of attire is rooted in football culture, from which his pseudonym also derives.
“Robinson came out of that world, with all the clothing that comes with it,” said Joe Mulhall, research director at Hope Not Hate, a UK advocacy group countering extremism. “I can’t think of a time when he hasn’t worn those at public events.”
Stone Island’s clean, militaristic aesthetic and reputation for exclusivity have long appealed to British “casuals” — soccer fans of the 1980s and 1990s known for their stylish sportswear and occasional hooliganism. The brand’s compass badge became a marker of identity and pride within that scene. For some extremists, this association with loyalty and status appears to carry over into political symbolism.
According to Dr. Cynthia Miller-Idriss, a sociologist at American University in Washington, D.C., brands must remain alert when their clothing is adopted by violent movements. “Companies should be wary of being associated with groups or movements that promote or celebrate violence, no matter the ideology that motivates it,” she said.
Stone Island and its parent company, Moncler Group, declined to comment on the matter.
When Fashion Faces Unwanted Endorsements
Stone Island is not the only brand caught in this dilemma. In 2022, Russia’s President Vladimir Putin wore a $14,000 parka from Italian luxury label Loro Piana during a televised rally marking the invasion of Ukraine. The image prompted widespread criticism online and accusations that the brand had not distanced itself from the Russian leader.
Loro Piana, owned by the French luxury conglomerate LVMH, declined to comment at the time.
In another instance, British label Fred Perry temporarily withdrew one of its black-and-yellow polo shirts after it was adopted by the Proud Boys, a far-right organization in the United States. The company publicly condemned the group’s ideology, calling it “counter to our beliefs and the people we work with.”
Even mainstream brands have faced similar challenges. In 2016, a neo-Nazi website declared New Balance sneakers “the official shoes of white people.” The Boston-based company quickly rejected the association, stating on social media that it “does not tolerate bigotry or hate in any form.”
The Hidden Language of Coded Clothing
The link between fashion and extremism is not new. Miller-Idriss traces the phenomenon back to early 1990s Germany, when neo-Nazi gangs sought alternatives to banned Nazi symbols. To evade anti-hate laws, they turned to coded fashion, co-opting brands such as Lonsdale and New Balance.
“New Balance became popular because the big ‘N’ was interpreted as standing for ‘neo-Nazi,’” she explained. “In summer, they’d replace combat boots with New Balance sneakers.”
Lonsdale’s logo also proved adaptable. When partially obscured by a zipped jacket, the letters “NSDA” appeared — resembling the German initials for Adolf Hitler’s National Socialist Party. “If the police stopped them, they could simply unzip their jackets to reveal an innocent Lonsdale shirt,” Miller-Idriss said.
Over time, extremists evolved their aesthetic. Rather than wearing overtly aggressive symbols, they began adopting everyday styles — khakis, polos, and designer jackets — to blend in. “Fashion became the new camouflage,” Miller-Idriss noted. “It made their ideas easier to spread because they looked like everyone else.”
Stone Island’s Cultural Evolution
Founded in 1982 in Ravarino, Italy, by designer Massimo Osti, Stone Island built its reputation on innovation and craftsmanship. Known for its heat-reactive fabrics and garment-dyeing techniques, the brand became synonymous with technical excellence and cultural credibility.
Today, under the leadership of CEO Robert Triefus, formerly of Gucci, Stone Island remains one of Europe’s most influential luxury streetwear labels. The company reported €401.6 million ($471 million) in revenue in 2024 — a slight decline from the previous year — but continues to thrive through cultural relevance and celebrity endorsements.
Its campaigns have featured figures such as Oasis frontman Liam Gallagher, actor Jason Statham, rapper Drake, and footballer Erling Haaland. The brand’s reach now spans fashion, music, and sports, reflecting its deep subcultural roots and crossover appeal.
For many fans, Stone Island’s link to football heritage remains central to its identity. In the 1990s, British “terrace culture” celebrated labels like Stone Island, Fred Perry, and Burberry as symbols of pride and defiance. These same traits — unity, loyalty, and exclusivity — may explain the brand’s continuing allure for individuals and groups seeking to project strength or belonging.
Reclaiming a Brand’s Narrative
Despite occasional controversies, Stone Island’s wider fanbase appears largely unaffected. “It’s not about the jacket itself but how it’s worn,” said Ollie Evans, founder of UK creative agency Too Hot. He described Robinson’s style as “lowbrow,” contrasting it with the brand’s refined image.
Historically, Massimo Osti himself was a left-leaning designer — a member of the Italian Communist Party and a local councilor in Bologna. “If all these people still celebrate his work 20 years after his death, one person wearing it for the wrong reasons won’t change that,” Evans said.
Brands that have faced similar challenges have found ways to reclaim their narratives. Lonsdale, once associated with far-right groups, launched its “Lonsdale Loves All Colours” campaign in 2003, featuring models of diverse backgrounds. The initiative successfully reshaped public perception and reaffirmed its inclusive values.
Experts like Miller-Idriss recommend that companies take proactive steps when their image is misused — from public statements to supporting social initiatives aligned with their principles. “Brands can’t control who buys their clothes,” she said. “But they can control how they respond.”
Source: CNN – Brands can’t choose their customers. So what happens when extremists wear their clothes?
