Following screenings in Paris and Tokyo, DAGGER brings its new short film, ‘GHOSTS’, to Berlin for its German premiere at the iconic Babylon cinema on 11th November. Directed by Felix Aaron, the film expands the world of the label’s AW26 collection, PLAY HARD, drawing on founder and creative director Luke Raine’s memories of growing up queer in Portrush, a seaside town on the north coast of Ireland.
Moving between memory and fiction, GHOSTS explores first love, isolation and belonging against the atmospheric backdrop of an off-season coastal resort. Rooted in the skate culture, music and friendships that shaped Raine’s youth, the project extends beyond the screen into a wider creative universe, accompanied by the release of 150 limited-edition, hand-customised Vans, which sold out in just three minutes. Bringing together fashion, film and personal history, PLAY HARD reflects DAGGER’s approach to storytelling beyond clothing. Ahead of the Berlin premiere, we speak to Raine about the experiences behind the project, the creative dialogue between fashion and film, and the cultural influences that continue to shape the label…
GHOSTS draws on your memories of growing up in Portrush, a small seaside town in Northern Ireland. How did those early experiences begin to shape your creative identity and the world of DAGGER?
The strange thing is that when I was growing up there, I spent so much of my time living in a fantasy world to escape my surroundings. I was constantly listening to music and imagining a life completely different from the one I was living. Now that I have that different life, I find myself constantly imagining the life I left behind. It’s funny how that works. I was a teenager in the early 2000s, before smartphones and social media. The place you lived really was your entire world. The people around you were everything, and I think relationships were deeper because of that. There was a real sense of community, of belonging to something, even if at the time all you wanted was to escape it. I think that sense of community has shaped the world of DAGGER more than anything else. I see it in the people who come to our events, backstage at our shows, in the people we collaborate with and in the office every day. We’ve somehow built this world full of intelligent, thoughtful, kind and supportive people who genuinely care about one another. More than any collection, runway show or achievement, that’s what I’m most proud of.
The film captures a distinct contrast between Portrush in summer, when it comes alive with tourists, and its almost deserted, melancholic atmosphere in winter. How did this environment influence the visual language of PLAY HARD, and what drew you to revisiting it through film?
Growing up in a seasonal seaside town, especially as a teenager, is a very specific experience that I think only people from these places can fully understand. There have been several films and series that have explored this feeling, like Tracey Emin’s Top Spot and channels 4’s Sugarush which, despite being set somewhere completely different, captures something very familiar to me. During the summer, there’s this sudden influx of new people, and with them comes an explosion of excitement, freedom, fun and trouble. For a few months, everything feels alive and full of possibility. But what interested me most was always what happened when everyone left. The comedown, quite literally. Suddenly, the neon lights are switched off, the crowds disappear and all those bright colours lose their purpose. What’s left behind is something grey, cold and at times quite eerie. There’s something about the image of a funfair boarded up for winter that perfectly captures that feeling. A place designed entirely for happiness and entertainment suddenly becomes somewhere quite lonely and melancholic. That contrast became central to the visual language of GHOSTS. I wanted to explore the beauty in that emptiness, the strange atmosphere of a place that feels almost abandoned but is still full of memories. Film felt like the most natural way to capture that, because it’s as much about the atmosphere and what isn’t happening as it is about what you actually see.
GHOSTS explores queer identity, first love and the complicated desire to be both visible and invisible. How important is personal history to your creative process, and do you see fashion as a way of revisiting or reclaiming parts of your past?
For me, I can’t create from something I don’t understand. I think fashion is ultimately about a feeling. It’s that immediate emotional response you have when you see an image, a runway show or even a single piece of clothing. To create something that makes other people feel something, you first have to understand that feeling deeply yourself. There’s a personal story in almost everything I do. I often find myself returning to memories and experiences that have stayed with me, sometimes without even realising why. Fashion has given me a way to revisit parts of my life that were deeply difficult, and at times traumatic, and turn them into something beautiful. Something that once felt painful or isolating can suddenly become something that other people connect with and find meaning in. I never set out to heal myself through fashion, and I don’t think I even realised that was happening at first. But looking back, I think that’s exactly what it’s slowly doing.
Your collaboration with director Felix Aaron takes GHOSTS beyond simple autobiographical retelling. Rather than translating your writing literally, Felix approached it as something more fragmented and universal, exploring the relationship between memory and reality. How did that creative dialogue develop, and was there anything about his interpretation of your story that surprised you?
First of all, there was a lot that surprised me. When I first wrote my story, GHOSTS, I sent it to Felix and didn’t read it again for months. He eventually came to my home to start storyboarding the film and handed me a printed copy to read. I got to page three and had to stop. As I mentioned earlier, I tend to look back on that period of my life through a creative lens. I find beauty in the imagery, the atmosphere and the memories. But seeing those experiences written down in black and white, without any of that visual romanticism, was quite confronting. I was a very sad kid. Reading it back made me realise just how sad, and that was difficult. When Felix sent me the first cut of the film, I cried for an hour. Felix has an incredibly deep emotional understanding of the things he creates. Somehow, he was able to take my quite harsh, confronting words and turn them into something that feels like a visual song. He found a tenderness and beauty in the story without taking away any of its sadness. Felix is a dear friend of mine, and we’ve worked together on many creative projects for DAGGER over the years. I think when he first read my story, he understood me on a much deeper level, not just what I had experienced, but why I am the person I am today, why I’m drawn to certain things and why I create the way I do. As I mentioned earlier, you have to understand a feeling deeply to create something that other people can genuinely feel. Felix made a film that I think only someone with that level of understanding could have made. It’s beautiful.
Alongside the film, DAGGER released a limited edition of 150 hand-customised Vans, connecting the project back to the skate culture and youth experiences at the heart of PLAY HARD. What was the thinking behind this collaboration, and what does the response tell you about the audience engaging with DAGGER’s wider creative universe?
I originally designed these Vans for my debut AW26 runway show, PLAY HARD. At the time, I genuinely didn’t know if I would ever get the opportunity to put on another show, so I wanted to try to tell my entire story through it. Every detail had a meaning, including the shoes. Growing up, money was tight, and where I came from, the shoes you had were the shoes you wore until the following Christmas. They were fucked, basically. But they told a story. Every scuff, stain and hole was evidence of something you’d done, somewhere you’d been or something you’d experienced. I think that’s the interesting part. With the Vans, I wanted to create something that already looked like it had lived a life. Something imperfect. My hope was that people wouldn’t feel precious or protective over them, but would actually wear them, destroy them more and LIVE in them! The fact that all 150 pairs sold out in three minutes was incredible, but what excites me most is the idea of those shoes going out into the world and continuing to collect stories of their own. I think people connect with DAGGER because there’s something real behind what we make. It’s not just about owning a product, it’s about recognising a feeling or a memory in it. The more you live in those shoes, the better they’ll look. And I think the same can be said for life.
