A week has now passed since I first shared our story and I am feeling the insistent urge to sit down and write. While the overwhelming support has quieted, and the conversation has largely moved on, I've noticed how disproportionately fast something that seemed so significant one week ago can become non-existent when little of what happened exists beyond the microcosm of social media. I am pulled in the direction of my keyboard because while the attention may have faded, the larger issue hasn't gone anywhere.
I’ve spent the past week reading through the hundreds of comments, questions, and perspectives shared, reflecting on what happened, why I felt compelled to speak publicly, and what I hope comes from it. While I’ve wanted to respond to so many of them individually, I realized that perhaps the most meaningful way to do so was to put my thoughts into writing. I believe that this conversation deserves a place beyond a few days of social media attention. Not to prolong a dispute (which if you know me, you know there is nothing I dislike more), but to document my experience, share what I've learned, and continue a discourse I believe is important for independent designers everywhere. So I decided to put it all "on paper", not just what happened, but why I believe it all matters.
Perhaps somewhere along the way, another independent designer navigating a similar experience will find this story and feel a little less alone, a little more understood, and a little more empowered to stand up for the work they've created.
For me, this is about closing the personal chapter while continuing the industry conversation. When I started Classic Six, I never imagined I would find myself publicly questioning the creative decisions of someone whose work I had followed and admired. I certainly never imagined that a jacket I had spent years thinking about would become the center of a much larger conversation about originality, accountability, and the responsibility we have to one another in the fashion industry.
But here we are. And while this story began with one jacket, I've come to realize that what matters most to me is something much bigger.

The Story Behind the Marlene
As the founder and designer of Classic Six, I put an enormous amount of thought, time, and care into every piece we create. We are a small, independent fashion brand built on the belief that less is more. We don't produce massive collections or chase every passing trend. We believe in creating thoughtfully considered pieces that earn their place in a woman's wardrobe.
Nothing we make happens overnight.
Behind every garment are months of development, countless revisions, financial risks, sleepless nights, and an enormous amount of belief in what we're creating. Our Marlene Convertible Jacket is particularly meaningful to me. It's a design I had been dreaming about long before Classic Six existed. I wanted to create a utility jacket that offered something more than the traditional silhouette, something that could evolve with the person wearing it. The result was a jacket with detachable sleeves and a detachable hem, allowing it to be worn in multiple ways. It was a reflection of everything I believe in as a designer: versatility, intention, and the idea that a smaller wardrobe can offer more possibilities.
We launched the Marlene in April 2026, and I was so proud that what had once only been a thought in my head was now something tangible that I could share with our customers.
From a Gifted Jacket to a New Collection
In May 2026, we gifted the Marlene Jacket to fashion influencer Julia McGuire. Like many independent brands, we gift pieces to creators because we believe in their voices, their creativity, and the relationships we're building. We hope they'll love what we've created. We hope they'll share it. And we trust that there is a mutual respect for the work behind it. Julia publicly shared the jacket and celebrated its convertible construction. I was so grateful for that support from someone I have truly loved following.
Five months later, on October 15, Julia launched a collection in collaboration with fashion retailer Few Moda. Among the pieces was a utility jacket that, at first glance, looked remarkably similar to our Marlene.
When I saw the photographs, I was stunned.

The similarities extended beyond the general idea of an army green utility jacket. To my eye, the silhouette, proportions, oversized chest pockets, collar, and construction appear nearly identical to our design. But it was the detachable hem that stopped me. Seeing one of the defining features of our Marlene jacket reflected in another design that also looked so similar to ours was particularly disheartening.
Few Moda's website described the collaboration as designed by Julia McGuire. When I read that, I found myself asking a question I hadn't anticipated having to ask.
Where is the line between inspiration and imitation?
Why I Chose to Speak Publicly
On October 15, I shared our experience on Instagram. It wasn't a decision I made lightly. I understood that sharing the story could invite criticism, speculation, and unwanted attention. But I also felt strongly that staying silent would mean accepting something I fundamentally disagreed with.
I believe in inspiration. Fashion has always been a conversation between designers, ideas, and generations. Trends evolve. Silhouettes repeat. Creative references are exchanged. I'm not suggesting that any designer owns the concept of a utility jacket or convertible clothing. But I do believe there's a difference between drawing inspiration from another person's work and reproducing so much of what makes a particular design recognizable. I believe that difference deserves consideration, even when the law doesn't necessarily require it.
As a small brand, we put enormous resources into creating something we believe in. We invest in development and trust that the people we work with will respect the effort behind what we've created. When someone who has received and publicly celebrated one of those designs later introduces something so visually similar through another commercial partnership, I believe it's reasonable to ask questions. Not simply about the design itself, but about the responsibility that comes with having influence.
What happened next
The response to our post was far greater than I expected. Thousands of people engaged with the story, sharing their perspectives, offering support, and raising questions about the relationship between independent designers, influencers, and larger retail platforms. I heard from fellow designers, small business owners, and consumers who felt that the conversation reflected a larger concern within the industry.
Following the public response, the jacket was removed from Few Moda's website. The remainder of Julia's collection continues to be available. To date, neither I nor anyone at Classic Six has received any communication from Few Moda regarding the jacket or its removal.
Julia subsequently shared a public statement, pinning a (now deleted) comment to her post featuring the launch of her collection, acknowledging the conversation.
I appreciated that she acknowledged Classic Six, but I ultimately found her response deeply disappointing. I felt it was missing a genuine sense of accountability, and it only reinforced my belief that this is part of a much larger, industry-wide problem. I was then disheartened to learn that the post and her statemrnt had reportedly been removed from her page, while her content quickly returned to business as usual. It was difficult to watch something that had sparked such an important conversation for me and so many, seemingly become something that could simply be erased and moved on from. To me, accountability means more than acknowledging something in the moment. It means being willing to stand by that acknowledgment, even after the conversation has quieted.
I would never suggest that a designer should be discouraged from finding inspiration in another person's work. As I said, I believe in inspiration and personally find it everywhere. But again, there is a meaningful difference between drawing inspiration from an existing design and introducing something so visually similar that the original design becomes difficult to distinguish from the new one.

The statement did not acknowledge the very specific circumstances that brought us here. Julia had received our Marlene Jacket, worn it, publicly identified it as Classic Six, while highlighting its convertible construction. Five months later, she introduced a jacket through her collaboration with Few Moda, publicly describing it as her own design while demonstrating its exact convertible hem detail. The similarities were so striking that people were commenting with confusion about whether the jacket was or was not Classic Six.
A simple acknowledgment that these similarities warranted recognition of the original design and the independent brand behind it would have gone so far. Not just to me, but to the broader conversation about how influencers can use their platforms to recognize and uplift the independent designers whose work they admire and encounter. Instead, I was left feeling that the central concern had gone unanswered. And perhaps that disappointment is part of why I feel so strongly that this conversation deserves to continue.
Accountability Does Not Have to Mean Punishment
Something I've struggled with throughout this experience is the idea that speaking publicly about a grievance must automatically mean wanting to hurt the person on the other side of it. That was never my intention. I don't like what happened here, but I also don't like knowing that another human being is on the other side of this conversation, navigating what I'm sure has been an incredibly difficult experience.
I can be deeply disappointed and still have empathy. I can believe something was wrong and still believe wholeheartedly in people's capacity to recognize mistakes, learn from them, and make things right. Those beliefs are not contradictory. I still believe there is room for compassion in difficult conversations, but compassion shouldn't require silence. And accountability shouldn't have to mean humiliation. It can mean understanding. For one another, and for every artist, designer, and creative brave enough to stand up for what they believe in, even when it's uncomfortable.
Why I Didn't Handle This Privately
Yes, there is always room for thoughtful private conversation and resolution. But I also believe there are moments when the purpose of speaking publicly is bigger than resolving an individual grievance. For me, this was one of those moments. This wasn't about gaining followers, generating sales, or even simply defending my own business. It was about principle. I would have spoken up whether my post reached 500 people or 500,000.

I've seen other articles about influencers and brands imitating the work of independent designers who publicly share their experience and I worry that when we frame these conversations primarily through engagement, publicity, or whether the attention ultimately benefits a business, we risk overlooking why people are speaking up in the first place.
To me, there is an important distinction between calling someone out for personal gain and taking a public stance against something you believe is fundamentally wrong. I don't want to live in a culture where every perceived similarity becomes a public accusation. I believe in nuance, understanding, and giving people the opportunity to explain themselves. But I also don't believe independent designers should feel obligated to remain silent because speaking up might be perceived as combative. If we never talk about these things, how does anything change?
The Responsibility That Comes With Influence
Influencers have become an enormously important part of the fashion industry. They introduce consumers to new designers, help independent businesses reach audiences they might never otherwise reach, and increasingly collaborate with retailers to create collections of their own.
I believe those opportunities come with responsibility. When a creator receives products from independent brands, they are being invited into a relationship built on trust. I put this in bold because it is possibly the most important thing I have written. That relationship doesn't create an obligation to promote every product or endorse every business, but I believe it should come with consideration for the creative work they're encountering. And when creators become designers themselves, I think that consideration becomes even more important.
The question isn't whether influencers are allowed to be inspired by the brands they wear. Of course they are. The question is how they distinguish inspiration from imitation, how they acknowledge the creative work that informs their own, and how the retailers facilitating those collaborations approach originality.
Those are questions worth asking of the industry as a whole.
What I Hope Comes From This
The outpouring of love and support for Classic Six has been something I will never forget. To everyone who shared our story, spoke up, left a kind comment, or simply took the time to listen, thank you. You reminded me how powerful it can be when people show up for small businesses. I don't want the conversation to end with who gained followers, who apologized, or who came out ahead. I'd rather see us asking what responsibility brands, retailers, and influencers have to the independent creatives whose work help shape this industry.
I want other small business owners to know that their voices matter. That their ideas matter. That they deserve to stand behind the work they've created without feeling that doing so makes them difficult or unreasonable. And I hope we can create an industry where acknowledging another person's creative contribution is seen as a strength rather than a weakness.
I never imagined that speaking up for my little company would turn into such a large conversation, but perhaps that's the silver lining in all of this. That something uncomfortable can open the door to something meaningful. I am proud of the Marlene Jacket, the work that went into it, and the brand I've built. I still believe we can advocate for our work with conviction while extending compassion to the people on the other side of the conversation. Those things can coexist. They should coexist. Ultimately, this was never just about one jacket. It was about respect for the work behind it. And that's a conversation I believe is worth continuing.
Diana LoMonaco
Proud Designer & Founder of Classic Six
P.S. If you're an independent designer who has experienced something similar, I'd love to hear your story. I'm exploring ways to bring greater awareness to this issue, and perhaps sharing our experiences is a meaningful first step. I believe there's power in numbers, and that together, we might be able to create real change. Consider the comments below a place to keep this conversation going. XO

1 comment
I am a cookbook author and recipe developer, so while it is not the exact same here are some things that are similar. 1. Respect the inspiration. If I create a recipe that was inspired by something else I saw (in writing) or tasted (at a restaurant) I always acknowledge it. Always. 2. I have an online cookbook club. I share about my favorite recipes from a certain cookbook. I do NOT type out a recipe from a cookbook. If the author has a link to a blog, etc. I will link that but out of respect zero screenshots either. 3. I receive a lot of products in the mail and sometimes I get an email prior, sometimes I don’t. I never accept anything I won’t truly use (I am almost 60 and no grandkids and a diaper company kept sending me diapers?) and if I have a relationship with let’s say a knife company, I won’t endorse another knife out of respect for the relationship I have built.
So in my opinion, it comes down to integrity. Some people choose to lead with their wallet vs their brain.