There’s something off about nostalgia. It feels joyous but bittersweet—a supercut of all our best memories. But it’s not authentic. It’s only the idea of authenticity, maybe even a false memory.

This season, Namesake’s Spring/Summer 2026 collection, titled Innerchild, doesn’t give us that scrapbook feeling. Instead, it’s a sense of longing, looking back and wondering: Where did that little kid go?

Images courtesy of NAMESAKE

The show notes opened with a question, borrowed from Stand By Me: “I never had friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?” I would say I still have friends like a 12-year-old, but it has definitely shifted. No more messy tweenage years—or childlike wonder. It was a time before we learned to put conditions on joy. Before our clothes stopped fitting into cubbies and started needing to be dry cleaned.

And yet, Innerchild isn’t playground-core. It’s not a lunchroom Halloween costume party. Or football varsity drag. It’s a confrontation—between the person you once were and the one you’ve become. It’s asking: Did you leave that kid behind, or did you just bury them under layers of workwear and irony?

Images courtesy of NAMESAKE

The silhouettes are active. Cropped jerseys and sweaters look like they’re mid-motion. The suiting is large, and oversized, like Dad’s jackets he wears once a year, buried in the back of a closet. Overall, there’s a uniform of youth. Spelling bee-inspired sweaters (the same deep V-neck we saw at Jonathan Anderson’s first show for Dior) with honor society patches are a standout. Elements of doodles, sportswear, nights at summer camp—no matter how subtle—spoke through the garments.

The bottoms were gold-star worthy. Just the right mix of length and flow. Details of patches, dirt stains, and paint splatter looked lived-in—like memories had been made.

However childlike it sounds, it still felt adult. The materials were professional: wool, stripes, and jacquards. Technical finishes like waterproofing and thermoregulation serve a purpose, but they also carry feeling. Not performance, but protection. This isn’t Gorpcore—it’s made for life—at any age.

Images courtesy of NAMESAKE

Roddy Ricch composed the original score, and it works. This isn’t rapper-makes-runway-noise. It’s an internal monologue in stereo. The music doesn’t just accompany the collection—it remembers the past alongside it. Songs swell and deflate alongside the garments, like lungs filling with air before cannonballing into a chlorinated pool.

The runway itself concretes the sentiment. Made by artist PZtoday, the audience is seated on tottering towers of inflatable pool floats. Above them, wind tubes whisper fragments of childhood warnings: “No running!” “Do you have to pee?”It’s absurd. It’s awkward. Anchoring it all is a massive, corporate-style sign with a single, disarming prompt: “Have you ever peed in the pool?”

Images courtesy of NAMESAKE

What Namesake does with Innerchild isn’t just emotional storytelling—it’s emotional tailoring. Clothing that reflects who we were, yes, but more importantly, who we’re still trying to be. And in a landscape obsessed with the future, that feels radical. A runway that doesn’t march forward, but turns around. Because maybe happiness isn’t something you grow into. Maybe it’s something you return to.