Spencer Badu doesn’t talk like someone chasing a seat at the table. He talks like someone building a new one — and inviting the next generation to pull up a chair. In a short but revealing conversation, the Toronto-based designer opens Spencer Badu’s world: a decade of building his label, the immigrant-family grit behind it, and why his presence on Project Runway Canada feels less like a cameo and more like a checkpoint for where Canadian fashion is headed.
At the halfway point of the season, Badu’s perspective lands with a kind of calm confidence. He’s not interested in playing fashion oracle. He’s interested in showing the country what’s already here — talent, range, and designers who deserve more than being told they’ll “make it” once they leave Canada.
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A designer shaped by curiosity and necessity
Badu describes himself simply: a fashion designer who’s spent the last 10 years running his label. Like many real creative origin stories, it started in a bedroom — making clothes in his room, following instinct, and working with his hands before he ever had access to formal training. Eventually, he went to school to learn the technical side “the correct way,” but the spark was always there: curiosity.
Before it was fashion, it was drawing. He drew what he saw on TV. Then friends. Then ideas. Add older siblings to the mix and suddenly style becomes a language — a way you present yourself, a way you’re read by the world. Over time, he developed a distinct point of view, and the gap became obvious: the pieces he wanted to wear weren’t available. So he did what entrepreneurs do best. He made them.
That first-generation pressure sits quietly behind the story too. Badu comes from a family of Ghanaian immigrants and describes himself as first generation — a detail that adds context to the “grueling journey” he mentions. The grind wasn’t optional. It was the price of entry.
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Why he belongs on the panel
Badu is careful when he talks about judging. He’s not trying to make the season about himself — and he’s not pretending his own designs are the point. But he’s clear about what he brings: perspective from someone actively doing the work right now.
He points to a common pattern across judging panels in entertainment: a lineup of established industry veterans deciding what’s next. He’s not dismissing experience — he’s acknowledging reality. Taste changes. What’s considered “good” shifts over time, just like music evolves from decade to decade. The danger is when anyone starts saying, “That’s not how it’s supposed to look,” as if creativity comes with a rulebook.
Badu’s value is that he sits closer to the future contestants are chasing. He’s built something current, global, and culturally relevant — collaborations with international brands, celebrity placements, travel, and growth — but still feels grounded enough to understand what it’s like to be on the come-up. In his words, it’s important to have someone in the seat who could realistically represent where contestants want to be.
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In other words: he’s not the gatekeeper. He’s proof it’s possible.
What it’s like judging alongside fashion icons
Badu lights up when he talks about his fellow judges — especially Jeanie (Jeannie) Beker, who he calls a legend. For Canadians, she’s more than a personality: she’s a fashion encyclopedia who helped teach audiences how the industry works. Sitting beside her feels surreal. “I watched you on TV,” becomes “now we’re here together,” and Badu admits the experience is as inspiring as it is humbling.
He also credits her communication style — the way she speaks is captivating, and watching her critique has taught him about clarity and delivery. That’s a subtle flex on its own: he’s not just judging designers, he’s studying the craft of critique.
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Koko gets his respect for a different reason. Badu frames him as the embodiment of fashion’s emotional translation. Designers create the message, but models carry it — and in runway culture, that relationship can make or break the story. Koko has walked for some of the most impactful designers in the world, and Badu sees his presence as part of fashion history itself.
Aurora, he notes, is more separated from the judges day-to-day because of how the show is structured, but he still recognizes her impact. For Badu, her contribution is about visibility and change — pushing the industry to reflect more people and more perspectives, not just the same familiar faces.
What he wants viewers to take away
Badu’s hope for the season is straightforward: he wants Canadians to see their own talent. Too often, he says, we look outward — New York, London, Paris — and assume that’s where fashion “really” happens. Meanwhile, Canada’s lack of industry structure can leave designers overlooked. Even when someone gets noticed, they can still feel invisible.
Project Runway Canada, in his view, counters that. It puts creators on a platform big enough for the country to finally pay attention. And even if contestants don’t win, viewers will find designers whose work connects with them — which is the point. Not just a winner, but a wider spotlight.
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Because if Canadian fashion is going to evolve, it needs something stronger than permission. It needs visibility.
Feature image courtesy Crave
