What if you could reconfigure a dress mid-conversation, transforming its silhouette as easily as changing your expression? A dress that changes with your mood and never looks the same.
Could 3D printing enable such a dynamic transformation?
I explored these questions with Laura, a design student from the Fashion Design School of Kolding (Denmark). Together, we set to work on a collaborative project that would bring together fashion and 3D printing. Inspired by nature, we imagined a bold garment that could be changed based on mood, or for no particular reason. An outfit that would embody fire itself; restless, transforming, never the same twice.
I was excited to dive into this project and navigate the intersection of these two disciplines. 3D printing was for me a purely technical exercise, typically applied to engineering components for enhanced properties, that called for precise automation and meticulous testing. Here, the role of this technology wasn’t obvious, and I was eager to find out.
The time available before the deadline was just enough for a couple of brainstorming sessions and prototypes. Working smart was key, and we started immediately. For me, this was a nice distraction from my usual PhD research, while for Laura, this was one out of 6 outfits she had to design for her graduation project. The final presentation was nothing less than a catwalk at Børsen, in the heart of Copenhagen. No pressure.
Step 1: Setting the stage – research – narrowing down endless possibilities
At this time, there were more questions than answers. How do we incorporate 3D printing and textiles? How does 3D printing enable wearable technology? How do we leverage 3D printing technology to elevate our ideas and bring them to shape?
We researched, sketched, made collages, and tried a few mockup ideas. While I was tackling the technical details of printing materials, possible mechanisms, and selecting the appropriate machine to use, Laura was busy draping fabrics and talking about emotional transformation. We were solving the same problem with completely different lenses.
We were working towards a breakthrough that came when we combined our two approaches. Both 3D printing and fabric were variables; it was a collaboration between the two, almost like a dance.
A bracelet, a necklace, and a belt – 3D printed – would be the enabler of the changing moods of the dress. These accessories would keep the fabric together. How? On the surface, we would place hundreds of the male part of a press button on. The fabric would then accommodate hundreds of female parts of a press button. Through the buttons, the fabric could be draped around the body, in various shapes and configurations, even while wearing the dress.
Step 2: bringing ideas to life – prototyping
Being the one in charge of the modelling and printing, I decided to start with the necklace. The most challenging piece. I wanted it to have an organic and hugging shape, almost like a second skin. One piece. No moving parts.
I 3D scanned my very own neck to have a base shape and proportion, and then modelled the neck piece around it in Rhinoceros. I’ll say that this type of 3D modelling was completely out of my comfort zone. Parametric mechanical components? Any day. But this was different. I wasn’t used to accounting for aesthetics in my work. My engineering metrics did not apply here, or at least not in the same way. How does one optimize for beauty? To this day, I still do not have an answer, but it took me many iterations – and lots of frustration – to achieve a piece that I was happy with both aesthetically and technically.
For the bracelet and the belt, we opted for a simpler shape, and they were much easier to model. I designed the belt as a set of interlocking standard components, so that Laura could adjust the length to fit the waist of her model.
Each one of the accessories had many of those protrusions for accommodating the press buttons. They were small enough to print without support, even on vertical surfaces.
Step 3: Bringing it all together – production
The production of the final pieces was straightforward, but not without bumps. The neck piece proved to be a challenge not only to model but also to print. The printing time totalled to 24 hours, which meant printing overnight, unattended, with an outside temperature drop that could affect the nozzle functioning, and it sure did. My wild guess was that the filament we chose for final production had a different chemical composition than the one used for prototyping. The latter (green), printed flawlessly, while the final choice (natural) kept on failing on me. Perhaps something related to the color dyes? I can only speculate.
I think it took me at least 3 attempts to find the right parameters and have a successful print, but I still managed to deliver the prints just in time for the catwalk. There would be no final fitting; it was a one-shot thing. It just had to work.
A grand conclusion – the catwalk
The catwalk took place in one of the parliament halls in the centre of Copenhagen, a beautiful location, with a magical atmosphere. It felt both surreal and amazing to have contributed to such a show. When there, I saw the whole dress for the first time, and I felt a great sense of pride. I can only imagine how stressed and nervous Laura must have been, because I could feel it too, those gnawing butterflies in my belly.
Breathing again, I followed the creation moving along, and fluctuating, just as we envisioned. The flowy fabric was ever changing and following the motions in space. As a spectator, you could not tell that the dress had 3D printed parts, because they blended so well with the fabric and with the concept. 3D printing had enabled an idea to come to life, but it became completely invisible in the bigger picture of this project. Dancing fabric was the centerpiece.
It made me realize how contextual technology can be, and how its value is not universal. 3D printing was an all-consuming topic for me, and as an engineering student, I was constantly being evaluated on technical mastery and measurable results. Laura, on the other hand, was being judged on movement, composition, and emotional impact.
This experience offered a fresh perspective on the relationship between technology and different industries. The idea that there is never a single interpretation and use of it opened up a new way to look at my projects, pushing me to broaden my research and ask deeper questions. How does my research bring value outside of an engineering context? How do I embrace and develop creativity in my engineering work? Questions that still drive my work to this day.
Technical details
3D Scanner: David Scanner (can’t remember the model)
3D modelling software: Rhinoceros
Printer: Ultimaker Original
Material: PLA
This is a project from the early days of my PhD, happening sometime in early 2013.
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