In 1928 (at the earliest) Hugo Boss became the official supplier of uniforms for the SS, Hitler Youth and other Nationalist Socialist groups. The designer was also suspected to be Hitler’s personal tailor, and it is thought that around 180 prisoners of war were forced into labour to supply the garments for soldiers.

Yet in 2010, the German luxury fashion house boasted a net profit exceeding $200 million, which certainly positions it as a brand of continuous success and fortune. It would seem that the industry has forgotten the fashionhouse’s origins, as the designer is certainly no longer seen as the Nazi-couture-sponsor that it was (…that was so last century).

Hugo Boss’s position in the fashion world today begs the question of how some of today’s luxury brands have escaped their dark pasts to regain their prestige. It also illustrates how the industry plays an important role in shaping and conditioning our perception of history.

We must remember that fashion is, at its heart, art. Though Boss’s partialities are to be rejected as abhorrent (a connection which the German firm has publicly apologised for), there is no denying that the SS uniform and other outfits designed at such a time had been crafted with a refined sense of style. Simply cut, consistent in aesthetic and striking in presence, the uniforms ranged from structured trench coats to minimalist capes which would cover the whole body. They looked seamlessly effective. Yet to commend the aesthetic is not to commend the action, and this is a wider point relating to artistic function: it serves as a space for disconnect. A painter who depicts death would not be charged as a murderer, nor would the novelist who probes matters of sadomasochism be rebuked as psychologically unstable. In its fundamentally artistic form, fashion, as the worn, detaches itself from the wearer. Hence the better models are so often found to be “blank canvases” - it is the clothes, not the character, that must come alive. As such, history’s lens, though unwaveringly condemning the actions of Nationalist Socialist figures – like Boss himself, whom histories of his company have described as a “loyal Nazi” – seems to filter out, and make exception for, the fact they often look good enacting them. Over time, the world of haute couture has forgiven such transgressions and imbues value in the work of such designers independently of personal political alignments. How else would Hugo Boss remain the global powerhouse that it is today?

Not only that, but similar instances are seen elsewhere on the fashion timeline. John Galliano, head designer for French fashion houses Givenchy and Dior in 2011, embarked on an anti-Semitic rampage in a bar in Paris. Videos allegedly capture him proclaiming “I love Hitler”, and yet, even now, the fashion world is forgiving. Dior’s suspension of him and his fine of €6,000 hardly reflects the severity of such sentiments (drunk or otherwise) and he is now the creative director of avant garde Parisian fashion house Maison Margiela. Even the renowned and seemingly untouchable mother of fashion Coco Chanel was thought to have dated Nazi Baron Hans Gunther von Dicklage and shared anti-Semitic sentiments, and Chanel is arguably the most respected fashion house to dress the world.

Whether this is morally unacceptable is not the point to be made here; what is pertinently relevant is that the fashion industry considers itself in a position to make such judgment calls. The current system forgives and forgets; it appreciates the work produced independent of context and allows such important figures and fashion houses to continue to produce art and to influence the public.