Step out of Oxford Circus underground station in London and, if you stand on the right corner and squint a bit, you’ll be able to spot four sizeable H&M stores. Nearby, you’ll also see an outpost for Cos, the Swedish retail giant’s fascia that specializes in simple Nordic-inspired staples. Not too far from there lives & Other Stories, the group’s Scandi-boho womenswear brand. Then, around the corner on Regent Street, is Weekday: home to the unofficial Drake- and Kanye-for-H&M lines. Finally, a few doors down is Arket, the company’s newest sub-brand, a lifestyle store where one can buy chic glassware and coffee grinders as well as affordable merino roll neck sweatshirts and unaffordable Tricker’s boots.

In fact, stroll not too far and you’ll hit H&M‘s flagship and its three premium marques in the space of 50 yards. Hang another left onto Carnaby Street and you’ll discover Monki (fast, disposable womenswear) and Cheap Monday (stretchy unisex denim). You could conceivably spend a day filling your wardrobe by emptying your wallet solely into the coffers of Hennes & Mauritz AB. The Stockholm-based multinational’s sub-firms have mushroomed, even as profits at the mainline stores have fallen. Novelty is the defence against boredom, as shoppers tire of seeing the same products for more than a couple of weeks.

H&M isn’t the only brand to suffer. It’s been a tough few years for fashion in general. In its top tier, heads have rolled at a pace that makes the Premier League look like a model of long-term planning. The creative directors at Dior, Lanvin and Saint Laurent have been among the highest profile casualties of an industry in flux. Luxury fashion is under assault, both as the Far Eastern markets it relied on to bolster its books through the recession start to contract, and the high street replicates what appears on runways ever faster. When the ship flounders, the folks at the helm pay the price.