Stella McCartney knows you’re going to be mad.
The 54-year-old designer has gained legendary status for two things: her singular take on capably cool style and her fierce defense of the environment through harm-free materials and “slow luxury” production. But on May 7, McCartney is duping her greatest hits at H&M, turning that unique vision into a mass-market frenzy—and partnering with a brand that helped put “fast fashion” on the map.
“I’m going to get murdered for doing this,” says McCartney when she calls me from a houseboat in London, where she’s joined by H&M’s longtime creative advisor Ann-Sofie Johansson to announce the inevitably controversial collab. “But how do you make change? You make it through economic impact.” For McCartney, specifically, that means this H&M partnership, which replicates her standout designs—dangerously low jeans with Moulin Rouge-style rhinestone swirls at the hips from 2023; faux snakeskin hobo bags with gold link trim, similar to the brand’s beloved cross-body bags—using low-impact manufacturing techniques and materials. Yes, there is also the infamous “Rock Royalty” tank first made by McCartney for the 1999 Met Gala—then worn by her and her bestie Liv Tyler; in the upcoming H&M ad campaign, it’s sported by Reneé Rapp.
The launch is a milestone for McCartney, who partnered once before with H&M in 2005. The first time around, there were lines circling entire city blocks to shop the collection, which came just after Karl Lagerfeld’s groundbreaking collab with the Swedish mega-chain. Since then, the British-born designer—who served as Chloé’s creative director from 1997 to 2001 before handing the reins over to Phoebe Philo and starting her own eponymous label—has dressed everyone from Natalie Portman to Zendaya. She’s bought back her fashion label from both Kering (in 2018) and LVMH (in 2025) and invested in lab-grown fur and leather research, paving the way for an animal-free fashion future. And last month in Paris, she accepted France’s prestigious Légion d’Honneur in front of friends like Oprah Winfrey and Naomi Watts; around the same time, she was on the cover of Time for her environmental work.
It is precisely because of this sustained, earnest effort that McCartney catches strays from keyboard warriors intent on demanding a purity-or-nothing approach to fashion (or maybe just to women running their own companies in general). “Whatever you do, somebody’s going to say, ‘This is bad; she’s not perfect,’” sighs the designer, who was raised as a vegan by her parents, musician Paul McCartney and photographer Linda McCartney. “That whole dialogue around, ‘If you’re doing something good, you must be doing something bad, and you’re annoying because you’re woke?’ I’ve had it my whole life.” To speak truth to Instagram rants, McCartney has created giant H&M hangtags (made from recycled paper, of course) crammed with details about each piece, including how it was made and where the fibers came from.
“I know what we’ve done in this industry is groundbreaking, and more than anyone else has ever done in this day and age.” She winces when she recalls pushing fashion executives for leather-free collections in the early aughts. “People were like, ‘Well, if we didn’t eat meat, we wouldn’t have cows. So by going vegan, you’re eventually going to kill all the cows.’ And I’m like, ‘How can you be so fucking stupid?!’ Come on, guys. Come on.”
“H&M is really big,” Johansson adds. “With that big responsibility comes the ability to be part of the solution. Working together again puts sustainability back on the agenda…but it’s also to inspire people, make them more curious, and encourage them to keep asking questions.”
McCartney says one of the questions is often, “Why are your clothes so expensive?” And though she has an excellent answer—luxury materials, well-paid labor, and expert tailoring cost a lot of money—McCartney admits it also “breaks [her] heart” that “the luxury fashion industry relies on making people feel like they can’t buy in—that they’re not good enough. I have a real problem with that distance. I’m like, ‘Everyone, come in, let’s all hug!’”
McCartney vows to be at various H&M boutiques herself to help shoppers find their favorite pieces, as she did in 2005, when she popped up in London to dress queueing fans, along with Gwyneth Paltrow and Hilary Duff, who donned the same $35.99 denim as the Stella-happy girls on the London Tube. (“We might have to top those two up with the new stuff,” McCartney muses.) She also insists that if you can’t get your H&M fix the old-fashioned way—by pretending you have a dentist appointment during work hours and racing to your city’s flagship instead—you should try resale sites. “Actually, thank God for eBay,” she says. “I know some of this H&M stuff will end up there, just like my runway collections do.” McCartney says this is “great.” Anything that keeps clothes out of landfills, in fact, is “brilliant.”
“Look, buy the clothes if you love them!” she says with a laugh. “Buy them, take care of them, go to the best parties in them, wear them a long time. And if you don’t like the fact that they’re at H&M, whatever. People will say anything to feel like they don’t have to try and do better.” But as cool as a Stella McCartney jacket and jeans may be, “trying to do good,” says McCartney, “is even cooler.”
Nobody can be mad about that.
