From round spectacles and soft tailoring to colourful ties and button-down collars, David Hockney spent a lifetime expressing himself through art—and the art of dress.
David Hockney (09.07.1937 - 11.06.2026)
Credit: Trinity Mirror / Mirrorpix
In November 1967, a thirty-year-old David Hockney stood before his painting 'Peter Getting Out Of Nick's Pool' for which he won the £1,500 first prize in Liverpool's John Moores Exhibition. Within a few years, the pool paintings would make him one of the most recognisable artists in the world.
Looking at the photograph today, it is striking how much of the future Hockney is already present.
The spectacles. The tie. The soft tailoring. And, perhaps unexpectedly, the button-down collar.
The latter would become a recurring feature. Not for a season. Not for a decade. For the rest of his life.
David Hockney opening night show "Recent Etchings" at the Kasmin Gallery Bond Street, London, England (December 1969)
Credit: Homer Sykes
Two years later, at John Kasmin's gallery in New Bond Street, many of the same elements remained. Kasmin, who introduced Hockney to Michael Fish, occupied a central place in London's cultural life. Through Fish, Hockney encountered a new generation of men who saw clothing not merely as something to wear, but as a means of self-expression.
Yet unlike many participants in the Peacock Revolution, Hockney never appeared to be wearing a costume.
The flamboyant ties, slightly oversized jackets and pocket squares (billowing from both breast and side pockets) were always grounded by a sense of authenticity.
He looked less like a man trying to become somebody else and more like a man becoming increasingly himself.
That quality remained remarkably constant.
David Hockney during the filming of the documentary A Bigger Splash (1973)
Credit: TCD/Prod.DB
As the decades passed, the spectacles evolved. The jackets became larger and softer. Bow ties appeared and disappeared. Knitted ties, checked jackets, velvet slippers and sneakers that he paired with suits (30 years ahead of their time) entered the wardrobe. Colours became brighter. Patterns became bolder.
Yet the underlying principles remained unchanged.
Again and again the same visual language reappeared.
Round spectacles. Soft tailoring. Pocket squares. Colour. And, time after time, the button-down shirt – what proved most surprising was its persistence.
David Hockney working on set designs for Glyndebourne production of Mozart's the Magic Flute opera (December 1977)
Credit: Goddard Archive Portraits
It appeared beneath tweed jackets and checked jackets. It appeared with knitted ties and bow ties. It appeared in California, London, New York and Cologne. It appeared while designing sets for Glyndebourne and while attending gallery openings. It even appeared beneath black tie at the National Portrait Gallery's 150th anniversary gala.
David Hockney, California (1993)
Credit: ZUMA Press Inc.
Looking through photographs spanning more than fifty years, one begins to suspect that Hockney had little interest in fashion at all.
Fashion asks what everybody else is wearing. Style asks what feels right.
Hockney seemed to have found the answer remarkably early.
Many artists develop a recognisable visual language on canvas.
Hockney developed one in life.
David Hockney, California (1994)
Credit: ZUMA Press Inc.
The spectacles became part of the work.
The colours became part of the work.
The clothes became part of the work.
Not through calculation, but through repetition.
A painter's eye could be seen everywhere: in the unexpected colour combinations, the juxtaposition of patterns, the willingness to place apparently incompatible elements side by side and somehow make them harmonious.
He dressed as he painted.
By instinct.
David Hockney at the opening of his retrospective at Museum Ludwig in Cologne, Germany (1997)
Credit: United Archives GmbH
The final photographs are perhaps the most revealing.
There is Hockney, now in his eighties, receiving honours, meeting royalty and attending the grandest cultural occasions. The hair has turned from blonde to white. The spectacles are brighter than ever. The trainers have become a permanent fixture.
Yet he remains unmistakably David Hockney.
Queen Sonja of Norway with David Hockney, recipient of the Lifetime Achievement Award at the Royal Academy, London (2018)
Credit: Doug Peters / PA Images
Looking at a photograph taken in Buckingham Palace in 2022, one realises that the achievement is not merely artistic.
Over six decades, David Hockney created one of the most recognisable personal identities in modern culture.
King Charles III talks with David Hockney during a luncheon for Members of the Order of Merit at Buckingham Palace, London (Nov. 2022)
Credit: Aaron Chown / PA Images
The paintings changed.
The technology changed.
The world changed.
David Hockney, in the ways that mattered most, remained entirely himself.
And perhaps that, as much as any painting, is part of the legacy he leaves behind.