Ibizan Style
Has It Lost Its Sparkle?
Ibiza’s fashion narrative took a significant turn with the first Ibiza Fashion Week in 1971, which showcased naturally coarse, handcrafted materials in a new light, emphasising their delicacy and beauty. The involvement of personalities like Yugoslavian “princess” Smilja Mihailovitch helped position Ibicenca fashion as an alternative to the mainstream. This period not only transformed the fashion scene but also fostered economic independence among the women of Ibiza, who found new opportunities in fashion.
Ibiza’s modern club scene, with its legendary DJs and hedonistic energy, continues a long tradition of secular shamanism, where music unites everyone in a collective experience. This deep connection to the spiritual power of music has not only shaped the island's cultural vibe but also influenced its fashion. The clubs themselves—Amnesia, Pacha, and Es Paradis—are more than just party venues; they are temples of expression, where fashion, like music, becomes a tool for personal freedom.
Amnesia, transformed in 1976 by Antonio Escohotado from a rural finca into The Workshop of Forgetfulness, was a place where both music and fashion served as forms of escape from the conventional. The eclectic sounds of Alfredo Fiorito, the club’s key DJ, inspired a style that blended bohemian, hippie, and shamanic influences with the emerging rave culture. This eclecticism filtered into the fashion worn at these venues—light, flowing garments that allowed for movement, paired with bold accessories and eclectic cultural references, from Indian-inspired jewellery to beachy comfort.
Similarly, Pacha, which arrived in Ibiza in 1973, became a symbol of both the island’s party culture and its glamour. The rustic farmhouse design of the club mirrored Ibiza’s raw charm, but inside, it was the opposite—pure decadence. The club’s iconic cherry logo became synonymous with fun worldwide, and partygoers wore everything from white linen and crochet to glitter and gold. Es Paradis, which opened in 1975, with its open-air design and pyramid roof, attracted young clubbers drawn to the carefree attitude and escapism that Ibiza has always fostered. These clubs weren’t just places to dance; they were stages for fashion statements.
By the '80s, fashion became pure anarchy—hedonistic, eclectic, and totally unfiltered. The island had always been a magnet for the slightly unhinged (myself included), but by then, the underground and the extravagant had fully collided. At Ku (which later became Privilege and is now set to be UNVRSE), DJs, artists, and clubbers mixed sequins with sun-bleached linen, while Yves Uro’s surrealist posters set the tone—neon and oh so very trippy. New Romantics, punks, and acid house ravers all left their mark, but there were no rules here. One night: a kaftan and handmade jewellery. The next: a metallic leotard and a camel toe.
When the '90s kicked in, suddenly Ibiza was on the map for the mainstream. The underground went global, house and techno ruled, and the island’s superclubs—Space, Amnesia, Pacha—became dance music institutions. Superstar DJs took over, the afterparty scene became its own religion, and suddenly, Ibiza wasn’t just a place to escape to—it was the centre of the music and fashion universe. Ravers came in tie-dye, bucket hats, and smiley-face everything. By mid-decade, it was cyber-goth and UV, metallic bikinis, and neon. And smelly feet in furry boots.
Every decade in Ibiza had oomph—wildly different, bold, and full of character. No one dressed the same, and that was the magic. I’ve been lucky enough to see Ibiza through two decades, and I am now entering my third. Each time I come back, eyes wide, taking it all in. But something has shifted.
Where have all the colours gone? The sequins, the sexiness, the silliness?
Last summer, a local put it bluntly: “Everyone just looks the same now.” And they weren’t wrong. Homogeneous tans, identical swimwear, the same hair, the same makeup. It’s beautiful and polished, it’s curated—but is it Ibiza?
Ibiza has never been about fitting in—it’s about standing out. The island was built on self-expression, an anything-goes playground where glam, rave, boho, and just plain bonkers coexisted. But now, it’s as if the algorithm has infiltrated real life.
Ibiza has your back if you dare to be different. So leave behind the cookie-cutter looks and wear what makes you feel alive. Sequins at the pool, vintage Gucci at the beach, neon at the afters—whatever feels like you.
Has It Lost Its Sparkle?
3/3/25
By Sophie Morrow
Touch down in Ibiza, and there’s an undeniable magic in the air. Fashion here has never followed a prescriptive runway; it’s an organic expression of the island’s energy, woven together by the people who live it and love it. Unlike the rest of the world, where trends dictate wardrobes, Ibiza’s style has always been a reflection of the island's spirit—unconstrained, unapologetic, and ever-evolving.
The Phoenicians, Ibiza’s first settlers, worshipped the moon goddess Tanit and Bes, the Egyptian god of domestic protection, music, dance, and sexual pleasure. This cultural heritage still resonates in modern Ibiza, with full moon parties and Sunset Ashram echoing ancient rituals that celebrate the island’s unique blend of mysticism and hedonism. Over the past fifty years, Ibiza has attracted a diverse range of subcultures, from beatniks to modern hypebeasts, shaping a distinct style that blends hippie and shamanic influences with the contemporary energy brought by the constant influx of the young and wild.
In the 1950s and 1960s, Ibiza became a haven for artists, writers, and free spirits. Raoul Hausmann, a pioneer of the Dada movement, and Erasmus Engelmann, a German art dealer, played key roles in establishing Ibiza as a creative sanctuary. Beatnik writers and poets, along with global nomads influenced by Indian, Moroccan, and Native American styles, brought eclectic, handcrafted pieces to the island’s markets. Prominent figures such as Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, and Pink Floyd found their way to Ibiza. During those decades, Pink Floyd’s albums Ummagumma and More became the soundtrack of the island. After the Spanish Civil War, Ibiza’s isolation became a magnet for musicians, intellectuals, and individuals fleeing the fascists. The island’s “off-grid” vibe meant people were free to escape conventional fashion norms, and Ibiza’s distinctive style began to take shape.
The foundation of Ibiza’s fashion identity, particularly the concept of "Adlib Fashion," can be traced back to the island’s cultural and historical roots, blending indigenous traditions with external influences. The island’s fashion history is tied to its agricultural past and local craftsmanship, particularly the clothing worn by rural Ibicencan people, which reflected the practical use of natural materials available on the island—cotton, esparto grass, and straw.
The concept of Adlib Fashion emerged in the 1960s and was popularised by a group of local designers who sought to create a modern style that honoured Ibiza’s traditional rural clothing while incorporating cosmopolitan influences. The term Ad Libitum—meaning "as you like"—embodied a philosophy of personal expression without sacrificing taste. Local designers like Charo Ruiz, Margarita Nuez, and Josep Font blended Ibiza’s traditional dress with modern, chic styles.
By Sophie Morrow
Ibiza’s fashion narrative took a significant turn with the first Ibiza Fashion Week in 1971, which showcased naturally coarse, handcrafted materials in a new light, emphasising their delicacy and beauty. The involvement of personalities like Yugoslavian “princess” Smilja Mihailovitch helped position Ibicenca fashion as an alternative to the mainstream. This period not only transformed the fashion scene but also fostered economic independence among the women of Ibiza, who found new opportunities in fashion.
Ibiza’s modern club scene, with its legendary DJs and hedonistic energy, continues a long tradition of secular shamanism, where music unites everyone in a collective experience. This deep connection to the spiritual power of music has not only shaped the island's cultural vibe but also influenced its fashion. The clubs themselves—Amnesia, Pacha, and Es Paradis—are more than just party venues; they are temples of expression, where fashion, like music, becomes a tool for personal freedom.
Amnesia, transformed in 1976 by Antonio Escohotado from a rural finca into The Workshop of Forgetfulness, was a place where both music and fashion served as forms of escape from the conventional. The eclectic sounds of Alfredo Fiorito, the club’s key DJ, inspired a style that blended bohemian, hippie, and shamanic influences with the emerging rave culture. This eclecticism filtered into the fashion worn at these venues—light, flowing garments that allowed for movement, paired with bold accessories and eclectic cultural references, from Indian-inspired jewellery to beachy comfort.
Similarly, Pacha, which arrived in Ibiza in 1973, became a symbol of both the island’s party culture and its glamour. The rustic farmhouse design of the club mirrored Ibiza’s raw charm, but inside, it was the opposite—pure decadence. The club’s iconic cherry logo became synonymous with fun worldwide, and partygoers wore everything from white linen and crochet to glitter and gold. Es Paradis, which opened in 1975, with its open-air design and pyramid roof, attracted young clubbers drawn to the carefree attitude and escapism that Ibiza has always fostered. These clubs weren’t just places to dance; they were stages for fashion statements.
By the '80s, fashion became pure anarchy—hedonistic, eclectic, and totally unfiltered. The island had always been a magnet for the slightly unhinged (myself included), but by then, the underground and the extravagant had fully collided. At Ku (which later became Privilege and is now set to be UNVRSE), DJs, artists, and clubbers mixed sequins with sun-bleached linen, while Yves Uro’s surrealist posters set the tone—neon and oh so very trippy. New Romantics, punks, and acid house ravers all left their mark, but there were no rules here. One night: a kaftan and handmade jewellery. The next: a metallic leotard and a camel toe.
When the '90s kicked in, suddenly Ibiza was on the map for the mainstream. The underground went global, house and techno ruled, and the island’s superclubs—Space, Amnesia, Pacha—became dance music institutions. Superstar DJs took over, the afterparty scene became its own religion, and suddenly, Ibiza wasn’t just a place to escape to—it was the centre of the music and fashion universe. Ravers came in tie-dye, bucket hats, and smiley-face everything. By mid-decade, it was cyber-goth and UV, metallic bikinis, and neon. And smelly feet in furry boots.
Every decade in Ibiza had oomph—wildly different, bold, and full of character. No one dressed the same, and that was the magic. I’ve been lucky enough to see Ibiza through two decades, and I am now entering my third. Each time I come back, eyes wide, taking it all in. But something has shifted.
Where have all the colours gone? The sequins, the sexiness, the silliness?
Last summer, a local put it bluntly: “Everyone just looks the same now.” And they weren’t wrong. Homogeneous tans, identical swimwear, the same hair, the same makeup. It’s beautiful and polished, it’s curated—but is it Ibiza?
Ibiza has never been about fitting in—it’s about standing out. The island was built on self-expression, an anything-goes playground where glam, rave, boho, and just plain bonkers coexisted. But now, it’s as if the algorithm has infiltrated real life.
Ibiza has your back if you dare to be different. So leave behind the cookie-cutter looks and wear what makes you feel alive. Sequins at the pool, vintage Gucci at the beach, neon at the afters—whatever feels like you.