San Francisco gave the world blue jeans, the derby jacket, and bell bottoms. Yet in much of the 21st century, this city has prioritized efficiency over craftsmanship. Unfortunately, the modern uniform of the city speaks for itself.

Everything about how we live, work, and interact has shifted in the last few years. The phone is leaving our pockets, redistributing itself across necklines, wrists, waistbands, becoming the garment itself. This calls for design that responds to where on the body it belongs: how it moves, how it falls, how it catches light. We now have machine learning, stretchable electronics, electrochromic materials, nanofabrication. All of it ready to adapt to posture, flex at the wrist, illuminate with gesture, drape the neckline.

When you think '60s, '70s, '80s, a distinct silhouette comes to mind. The decades since blur together. Y2K is back. So are the '90s. So is everything else. Technology has entered fashion before, but rarely has it entered beautifully. McQueen's robot-painted dress, Chalayan's transforming garments, Van Herpen's 3D-printed couture proved it could be done.

But by and large, we're not designing the future. We've been recycling. San Francisco, the city of the future, has everything needed to give the dawning decade its defining silhouette, and every reason for designers to come build it.

The only thing that's been missing is the runway.