Cortina d’Ampezzo is called the Queen of the Dolomites for good reason. Nestled high in the mountains, this shimmering alpine town provides a dramatic backdrop for an equally historic tradition: the 2026 Paralympic Winter Games. The international competition for athletes with disabilities has been held for nearly 80 years, and this year marks the 50th anniversary of the winter edition.
With 665 athletes competing across 79 events, the Paralympics place extraordinary athletic achievement on full display. Behind every potential medal lies an arsenal of specialised equipment, and attire is among the most crucial components. At the highest levels of sport, clothing must perform as precisely as the athlete wearing it.
To understand how adaptive clothing has reached this moment, it helps to briefly look back.
Recognisable elements of adaptive fashion date back as far as the late nineteenth century, with the invention of the snap and the zipper. Helen Cookman and Virginia Pope helped lead what is often called the first wave of adaptive fashion in the 1950s, when the return of disabled veterans from World War II created new demand for clothing that supported independence. Though the industry drifted away from style in later decades, brands such as IZ Adaptive and Bezgraniz Couture reintroduced a design-forward approach in the early 2000s.
Today, the scale of the conversation is undeniable. According to the World Health Organization, roughly 1.3 billion people worldwide live with disabilities, representing a global market with more than $13 trillion in annual disposable income. The adaptive clothing sector alone is projected to surpass $30 billion by 2034.
But statistics only tell part of the story.
The Paralympics offer a rare lens into clothing under pressure, a stage where functionality and aesthetics must answer to an unusually complex set of demands. Athletes must compete at the highest level while navigating prosthetics, wheelchairs, and other mobility aids. At the same time, they maintain the same relationship with clothing as anyone else: the desire to feel comfortable, confident, and recognisable as themselves.
To make sense of how fashion responds to those demands, it helps to look through the eyes of a designer.
Elisabetta Venturelli, who grew up around Cortina, trained in Milan, and now designs activewear and outerwear for global brands in New York, has spent much of her career working at the intersection of performance, tailoring, and everyday life. Watching the Paralympians compete in the mountains she once called home, she sees adaptive design not as a niche category, but as an intense expression of fashion’s broader purpose.
“When you watch these athletes move, you realise how precise clothing has to be,” Elisabetta says. “Details like seam placement, the weight of a fabric, or how easily a zipper can be reached suddenly become critical. But those insights don’t only apply to adaptive clothing. They can improve design for everyone.”
On the slopes, athletes themselves are the best judges of what works.
“I’m usually more of a functionality type of person,” confesses American Para Alpine Skiing phenom Blake Eaton. “I try to get it done using whatever works for me the easiest, but I usually don’t worry about how I look. It’s more about how I feel.”
For Eaton, certain details can make all the difference.
“With pants, I like ties or anything with elastic waistbands. Being able to pull them up and down in a chair is important. Snow pants are usually bibs because otherwise, when I get out of my monoski, they fall down. And with jackets, I just want something not too baggy or long. Skiers break zippers often, so I prefer something strong and easy to grab.”
Mobility aids fundamentally change how clothing behaves.
“A lot of our clothes are good, but there’s a lot of white outfits, which is kind of frustrating for the Paralympic side,” admits Eaton’s teammate Robert Enigl. “Our wheelchairs pick up dirt constantly, especially when it’s snowing. Our opening ceremony outfits were awesome, but they were long fleece gowns, and it’s hard to wear something like that in a wheelchair. Jackets fall over the sides and pick up grime.”
In many cases, clothing must be designed in relation to the wheelchair itself.
“The materials get beat up and wear down,” Enigl says. “For most wheelchair users, you pick clothes that basically fit you. But if something hangs over the sides, it rubs against the wheels. Sometimes the wheelchair is actually more important than the clothing.”
Designers, Elisabetta notes, have to account for these altered relationships between body, garment, and equipment.
“If someone is sitting most of the time, proportions change,” she explains. “A coat behaves differently. Pants fit differently. The waist needs more stretch. But that doesn’t mean style disappears. It means the design process has to become more attentive.”
Some athletes are already working with brands to push those ideas forward.
“I really like to look good when I’m outside of skiing,” proclaims Norwegian Para Alpine skier and six-time Paralympic gold medalist Jesper Pedersen, who collaborates with Helly Hansen on equipment and apparel. “But when you’re sitting in a wheelchair, some cuts simply don’t work. Long coats behave differently, so we often adjust pieces to fit better.”
Footwear presents its own challenges.
“These shoes are from the Olympic Village set,” Enigl reveals, pointing to a pair made by Nike. “They added a zipper, which helps a lot. Normally, it’s really difficult to get shoes on. Having fashionable shoes with hidden zippers would make a big difference.”
For others, the priority remains efficiency.
“When it comes to ski clothes and the clothes we train in, it’s all about functionality,” asserts Norwegian competitor Bernt Marius Rørstad. “Zippers that make prostheses easier to access so you don’t have to take everything off and on again. It’s about using the least amount of energy on clothing.”
American Para Alpine skier Noah Bury, who has taken a keen interest in design himself, noted how closely athletes tend to study their gear. Small adjustments, such as how sleeves move when pushing a wheelchair, where seams fall against equipment, and how easily closures can be reached, can make a significant difference over long days on the mountain. When we met him, he was wearing convertible trouser-shorts with a discreet zipper system that allowed the garment to transform full trousers into shorts. Paired with a beautifully patterned prosthetic that, if anything, elevated the look, the piece illustrated how thoughtful design can quietly solve practical challenges while still allowing individuality to come through.
And indeed, across conversations with athletes, one theme emerges repeatedly: functionality does not eliminate the desire for style.
Athletes speak not only about efficiency and durability but also about how clothing looks, moves, and allows them to present themselves beyond the competition.
“Adaptive clothing is often framed as solving a problem,” Elisabetta comments. “But what the athletes remind us is that people still want to express themselves. They want clothing that reflects who they are, not just something that works.”
For several of the women competing in Cortina, the conversation about clothing quickly turned as much to identity as to function. American Para Alpine skier Saylor O’Brien, recognisable on the slopes for her bright blue hair and glittered cheeks, described clothing as one way athletes continue to express themselves beyond competition. “I want things that work,” she says, “but I also want to feel like myself.”
Other athletes pointed to another step the industry could take. Paralympic champion Brenna Huckaby, who has collaborated with brands experimenting with adaptive design, suggested that the most meaningful progress will come when people with disabilities are involved earlier in the process. Consulting athletes, or even bringing disabled designers directly into design teams, can reveal insights that are difficult to anticipate from a studio. As teammate Jaclyn Hamwey noted, many of the solutions athletes rely on today began as small adjustments made out of necessity.
For the fashion industry, the Paralympics offer a powerful design laboratory.
Creating garments for bodies that interact differently with clothing exposes assumptions that mainstream fashion often ignores about proportions, movement, closures, and materials. In solving those challenges, designers often discover solutions that benefit a far broader audience.
“When you design for more complex needs,” Elisabetta concludes, “you usually end up creating clothing that is easier, more intuitive, and more comfortable for everyone.”
On the slopes of Cortina, the lessons of adaptive fashion are already clear. The garments that perform best are those that allow athletes to move with confidence while still expressing themselves as individuals.
In that sense, adaptive design is not separate from fashion’s future. It may be one of the places where that future is already taking shape.
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