Once a symbol of high fashion’s polished austerity, Burberry has made a bold pivot. No longer confined to London’s posh boutiques and royal wardrobes, it now roars across fields soaked in beer, bass, and bliss. With “Burberry Festival”, the brand doesn’t just present clothes—it stages a visual anthem to the pulsing heart of British music culture.

This campaign, orchestrated through the lens of Kim Gehrig and the camera of Drew Vickers, offers more than aesthetics. It’s a tribute—intimate, cinematic, and defiant. It doesn’t whisper, it belts. With Liam Gallagher swaggering through the screen, Goldie glinting with untamed legacy, and a new class of creatives cracking open the future, Burberry’s summer vision celebrates what the British do best: music, attitude, and style as cultural currency.

The Campaign’s Pulse

“Burberry Festival” unfolds like a summer diary—stitched in basslines, rain-slicked tents, and the way your boots feel after three days on muddy grass. It isn’t clean, it isn’t poised, and that’s the point.

This is festival culture as memory, myth, and moment. It’s not an ad campaign—it’s an artifact.

Each frame is intentionally raw, captured on what feels like the edge of chaos. Instead of posing, subjects move. Instead of perfection, there’s pulse. Vickers’ lens doesn’t polish—it reveres the scuff marks. His portraits linger on details: smeared eyeliner, sweat-slicked curls, the torn edge of a wristband. The campaign is drenched in atmosphere, not artifice.

Gehrig, known for her kinetic direction and humanistic storytelling, doesn’t just shoot scenes—she curates a mood. Every visual plays like a mixtape. Moments of reflection intercut with roars of noise and crowd. The effect is immersive: this isn’t a festival you watch—it’s one you feel under your skin.

The Icons

Liam Gallagher

 – The Frontman

If British festivals had a deity, it might be Liam Gallagher. He doesn’t just perform on stages—he haunts them. A figure of unapologetic ego, blistering sound, and sharp Northern wit, Gallagher is Burberry’s avatar of rebellion.

Clad in oversized parkas and his trademark swagger, Liam isn’t styled—he is style. His presence in the campaign is thunderous. He doesn’t need dialogue. His glare, his stance, the tilt of his head—each carries the weight of ‘90s anthems, brotherly feuds, and football chants echoing across open fields. Burberry doesn’t tame him—it frames him like an ancient relic of British cool.

He’s the alpha in the lineup, the elder of the tribe, the patron saint of disheveled brilliance.

Goldie

 – The Alchemist

Goldie brings a different current. Not the frontman, but the underground. The metalhead turned jungle pioneer, his inclusion signals that Burberry isn’t just paying tribute to indie guitar bands—it’s acknowledging the subterranean pulse of British sound systems.

His look is fierce: gold teeth, tattooed confidence, and the aura of someone who has seen it all and survived it twice. In Goldie’s scenes, there’s an electricity—a crackle of basslines and broken beats. He wears Burberry not like fashion, but armor. His energy is an incantation: rave is not dead. It simply waits for darkness and a beat drop.

Loyle Carner

 – The Lyricist

Carner is the campaign’s soft soul with sharp edges. Known for introspective bars and a voice that sways between spoken word and confession, he’s the bridge between Gallagher’s brute force and the new guard’s experimentalism.

In the campaign, Loyle moves slowly, eyes scanning, voice steady. He wears Burberry with a sense of understated authority. His presence doesn’t shout—it speaks truth. Among the chaos of festival noise, he is the clarity—a verse whispered into the storm.

The New Vanguard

Lennon Gallagher

 – The Heir Apparent

The camera doesn’t miss the weight on Lennon Gallagher’s shoulders—how could it? Son of Liam, carrier of a surname that shaped modern music, Lennon walks the line between inheritance and independence.

Burberry captures him not as a replica, but a reinterpretation. He’s more angular, less brash, with a modern edge to his charisma. His look is curated, but not costume. It’s streetwear molded into elegance, youth without apology.

In him, we see the continuum of festival culture: yesterday’s swagger reimagined for tomorrow.

Chy Cartier

 – The Disruptor

Cartier blurs lines—gender, genre, expression. Their presence is like a lightning bolt: bright, fast, unforgettable. In Chy, Burberry finds a new kind of icon—not anchored in the past, but rooted in fluidity and fierceness.

They dance through the scenes—glittering, spitting lines, wearing kilts with platform boots. Chy’s energy reshapes the frame itself. It says: the new British style doesn’t ask for permission. It takes space, remixes expectations, and shines.

Seungmin

 – The Connector

Seungmin is the wildcard—K-pop royalty dropped into a British field of muddy boots and lager cans. His inclusion is not a gimmick, but a statement: music, like fashion, no longer bows to borders.

He walks through the campaign with poise and curiosity, an outsider made insider through sheer charisma. His styling mixes Burberry’s check with futuristic silhouettes, crafting a visual metaphor: heritage meets horizon.

John Glacier

 – The Shadow Poet

John is the enigma—the one you catch out of the corner of your eye. With her ethereal energy and lo-fi presence, she is festival intimacy distilled. Her voice haunts, her eyes burn slow. She’s not here for spectacle, but resonance.

In her scenes, the light dims. Her Burberry pieces look almost lived-in, weathered like stories told too many times. She doesn’t perform for the crowd—she plays for the night sky.

Clothing as Character

In “Burberry Festival,” the clothes don’t scream—they support the scream. They become second skins for identities that don’t fit into boxes. Festivalwear here isn’t costume—it’s armor, banner, and self-expression.

We see:

• Trench coats flung open, as if mid-wind or mid-dance.
• Checkered scarves twisted like flags, carried like heritage and waved like rebellion.
• Layered hoodies and bomber jackets, tough enough for a mosh pit, stylish enough for backstage.
• Kilts, mesh, and tailoring clashed on purpose, because nothing true ever matches.

The palette leans into earth and smoke—tones that get better with dirt, rain, and sweat. This isn’t showroom clothing. This is lived-in luxury, gear that survives the storm and looks better because of it.

Soundtrack of a Generation

Though silent on page or screen, the campaign pulses with imagined sound. You can almost hear the setlist as you scroll:

• “Live Forever” by Oasis kicks in as Liam adjusts his collar.
• Goldie’s “Inner City Life” thunders during a late-night rave sequence.
• Loyle Carner’s verses sneak in like voice notes between tracks.
• John Glacier’s vocals swirl like wind over empty fields at dawn.
• Chy Cartier and Seungmin soundtrack the next-gen stage, where genres blur and borders melt.

This imagined playlist becomes the soul of the campaign. It’s not one genre. It’s every beat that made a crowd raise their arms and sing to the sky.

More Than Fashion – A Cultural Document

What Burberry does with this campaign is bigger than branding. It’s a cultural chronicle, a snapshot of where the UK stands musically, socially, and stylistically.

It acknowledges that the British festival isn’t just a location—it’s a state of being. It’s the muddy boots in Glastonbury, the sunrise at Creamfields, the poetry of Latitude, the grime at Wireless, and the pulse of Notting Hill Carnival. It’s tradition and disruption coexisting.

By including a spectrum of voices—from legends to rule-breakers—Burberry isn’t selling a dream. It’s showing a reality made magical.

A New Kind of Legacy

Burberry has always dealt in legacy. But now, it understands that legacy isn’t static. It’s a moving target—a rhythm passed down through hands, mics, and fashion seams.

“Burberry Festival” isn’t just an homage. It’s an evolution.

The campaign says: British music and British fashion don’t exist separately. They breathe through each other. One shouts, the other echoes. One marches, the other cloaks the marchers. Together, they define what it means to stand out and belong, to rebel and remember.

And as the rain pours, the lights flash, and the crowd surges—Burberry doesn’t stay backstage.

It takes the main stage. And it owns it.