Every fashion brand has an identity. What defines them, much like individuals, is an amalgamation of experiences, perception-shaping moments and the values embedded in their work.
Brands build relationships through culture and community, with subcultures and trends amplifying the moments that cement their place in specific spaces. Think Adidas’ emergence as streetwear on football terraces, driven by Liverpool’s match-going fans. Think Burberry—its caps, scarves, shirts and jackets—bridging both street and high fashion. Think Corteiz, dominating the very spaces where culture is actively being formed.
Whether historic or contemporary, every brand’s mission is to remain relevant. For legacy brands, in particular, that relevance often demands reinvention—a reworking of identity that evolves without losing its core. That challenge sits at the heart of Alexei Hamblin’s work, a 23-year-old designer and TikTok star whose deep understanding of brand storytelling has led him to collaborate with the Frasers Group on reimagining Slazenger, one of the UK’s most recognisable sportswear brands.
Like many British boys, Alexei grew up with big aspirations. Raised in Kidlington, a small town in Oxfordshire, he had two ambitions: to become an artist and a “teletalker”—his childhood term for a presenter. Sport was also central to his upbringing. Football, tennis—he played it all. But, by his own admission, he wasn’t particularly good, and a professional sports career was never realistic. Instead, he found another way in: embedding himself in the culture surrounding the things he loved, and that lane came through visual design. Alexei began creating logos for FIFA-based YouTube channels, developing his skills in drawing, painting and digital design while staying closely attuned to the spaces he admired. Documenting his journey across TikTok and Instagram, he set out to carve his own place within those worlds, building both a portfolio and a distinct creative voice.
Today, Alexei has built a following of over 90,000 followers on TikTok, a platform that reflects both his consistency and intent. His content explores brand histories, business strategies and fashion trends, often reimagining familiar names through a luxury streetwear lens. From Sports Direct to Tesco to Greggs, no brand was off-limits. His audience became highly engaged, frequently flooding comment sections to push his ideas further and shape the conversation around his work. Eventually, that noise reached the right ears: Frasers Group, which houses a number of British heritage brands, took notice. What began as online experimentation turned into a real-world opportunity: a meeting, a conversation, and, ultimately, a role in helping to reshape Slazenger.
Founded in 1881, Slazenger built its legacy through high-quality equipment across tennis, cricket, golf and hockey, later expanding into apparel. Deeply embedded in sporting culture, it outfitted icons like Fred Perry and Tony Jacklin, and has supplied tennis balls to Wimbledon since 1902. By the 1990s and early 2000s, it sat among accessible sportswear brands. While still globally visible today, its cultural impact has softened—the panther logo remains familiar, but less aspirational. For Alexei, that gap signalled opportunity. After extensive research into the brand’s archives, including footage and insightful talks with the founder’s family, he developed a new direction. The new Off-Court collection blends heritage with modern design, reinterpreting over a century’s worth of history for the present day.
Speaking from Slazenger’s HQ in Derbyshire, Alexei Hamblin discusses his influences and the challenge of evolving a legacy brand without losing its identity.
COMPLEX: Firstly, thank you for your time—I really appreciate it. I spent the last 24 hours going through your work and actually went all the way back to the beginning of your TikTok, watching around 200 videos. It was genuinely inspiring to see where you started and how you’ve refined your vision to where you are now, especially with Slazenger. Huge respect.
Alexei Hamblin: That’s insane! I didn’t think half of those were even still up [laughs]. But thank you, I appreciate it.
How are you? How’s life right now?
Good. It’s insanely busy, but I love it. I can’t complain about having too much work because I’ve kind of brought this upon myself. So yeah, all good.
I always like to understand where people start creatively. On your TikTok, you mentioned designing graphics for FIFA YouTubers when you were a teenager. What would you say was your real starting point? When did you realise you wanted to create and just needed to find your lane?
Well, funnily enough, this comes up quite a lot when I’m catching up with family. When I was about 4 years old, and people asked what I wanted to be, I’d always say two things: the first was that I wanted to be an artist, before I’d ever picked up a pencil, and the second was that I wanted to be a “teletalker”, which was my way of saying, a presenter. Now my job is kind of presenting my art, so it’s come full circle. Growing up, I loved sport—football was my life—but I wasn’t very good, so I leaned into design, painting, drawing… Things I could feel confident in. That evolved into the FIFA YouTube stuff. I wanted to be part of that world, so I contributed what I could: design. I’ve always kind of been on the outside wanting to get into the things I love, and I think that’s always been in my DNA.
You also had early work experience in fashion. What did that period teach you?
That was a big moment for me. It’s where I learned what a creative director actually was. I remember on my first day, I didn’t know who anyone was and I spoke really casually to the creative director. Everyone was looking at me like, “You can’t talk to him like that!” But in that moment, I realised: he’s just a person. Obviously, incredibly talented, but still just a person. That stuck with me. It made me feel like, “I could do this one day.” That belief was the biggest takeaway for me.
Another thing I noticed in your content is how you break down brands and their storytelling. When did you decide that creating content around that was the best way to get your message out?
I’ll be honest: I ran out of money trying to promote my own brand. I ended up in a lot of debt because I took out loans before validating the idea. So I thought, “How do I connect myself to the culture more?” I started making documentary-style content about brands—how they started, how they grew, how they built identity. It was all stuff I’d already researched for years. At the time, UK fashion TikTok was booming, and people were jumping onto brands without knowing their history. I thought storytelling could connect with people who were like-minded. It didn’t really convert into sales for my brand, but it was my first taste of virality and building an audience, and that’s been invaluable.
Who are some of your favourite designers and fashion content creators?
Undoubtedly Virgil Abloh. His ethos and design thinking were what first got me interested in fashion and design as a teenager. His ability to flip mundane objects and iconography into something fresh and exciting always stuck with me—that idea that anything could be art. More traditional designers… I love Demna, Jonathan Anderson and Kim Jones. Again, it’s their ability to recontextualise and create new meaning around existing ideas.
On the independent side, it’s Fully from House of Errors. The way he creates visual storytelling through fabric is second to none right now, in my opinion. In terms of content creation, Front Office Ken is top-tier. His storytelling and level of detail when explaining garments and fabrics can get anyone interested in everyday clothing. Oren Meets World is also a big inspiration—I actually met him in China by chance. His perspectives and breakdowns of brand architecture always push me to think further outside the box.
And outside of “industry” creators, I really like what Kershaw is doing—the character he’s building across socials. It felt natural to bring him in to represent my first Slazenger Off-Court collection; he embodies that British grit and audacity that my work carries.
When it comes to older sportswear brands from the ‘90s and early 2000s, how do you make something like that feel modern today without just relying on nostalgia?
I’ve always been fascinated by brand revivals, how one group of people can hate a brand while another loves it, even though it’s the exact same product. The only thing that changes is the storytelling. I saw that through reselling vintage: brands no one wanted could suddenly become desirable again. When I saw that happening more widely, I started thinking about what other brands could be recontextualised. When I came across Slazenger, I realised there was so much depth to it. It wasn’t just a product brand—it was fundamental to British sport. Tennis, golf, cricket—it was involved in all of it. Now sport is becoming culturally relevant again, people are playing more, focusing on fitness, so it felt like the right time. It’s not about reworking old pieces—it’s about bringing back the original spirit in a way that makes sense today.
That’s interesting, because growing up in South-East London, Slazenger had a very specific association for me—more working-class, more practical, not necessarily seen as “cool” compared to bigger sports brands.
Yeah, I had a similar experience. I couldn’t afford the bigger brands growing up, so I wore Slazenger. And at the time, it did feel a bit embarrassing compared to having Nike or Adidas. That’s something I want to change. I want people to feel proud wearing Slazenger. But I’m not trying to erase what the brand is; it already serves a purpose. I’m just building on top of that, not replacing it.
Looking at the campaign, I wrote down a few words to capture how I feel: regal, articulate, very British. There’s also a cinematic quality to it. How did you approach that visually?
We had a lot of references—film, old sport—but the key inspiration was an old tennis documentary from the 1950s. The idea was to make something that felt like it could sit within that world: same tone, same pacing, same visual style, but with modern people. Keeping that slightly upper-class feel, but grounding it in real British culture.
More broadly, what do you think is missing when it comes to the representation of iconic British sportswear?
I think there’s a lack of authenticity. We’ve got such a rich sporting history, but outside of a few recent examples, there aren’t many brands that truly embody proper British sporting values. We love the community side of sport. We love playing it—not just winning—and we’re happy to laugh at ourselves when it goes wrong. That’s a huge part of the culture. Some brands just put a Union Jack on a T-shirt and call it a day [laughs]. That’s not enough. A big reason I was drawn to working on Slazenger was the opportunity to bring real relatability back into the market. Too many brands rely on the fact that they were once great, without recontextualising that for today. It’s good to see newer brands coming through and putting UK sportswear back on the map, but a lot of the messaging around optimisation and perfection doesn’t always feel like it speaks to real people. For me, it’s simple: own what we are, be proud of it, and stop pretending to be something else.
Paint a picture for me: it’s peak summertime in London—where do you want to see people wearing your pieces?
First place: a beer garden, watching England win the World Cup! Beyond that—pubs, busy streets, and Soho. Just everyday environments. I like the idea of people choosing it because it gives them confidence, like it’s their outfit for the day. I also want to disrupt that “uniform” you see in social spaces a bit, and bring something new into that.
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