Fashion and Frivolity
From poulaines and crackowes, to shutter shades and FiveFingers shoes, the world has seen its share of frivolous fashions over the centuries. Reduced vision and questionable tan lines aside, Lisa Xing explores how fashionable frivolities are hinged upon society's prevailing concept of beauty. March 2013.
Click HERE to read the article online.
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In 2005, a relatively unknown company by the name of Vibram introduced a shoe that would rock the sensibilities of the fashion world. By sheer design factor and the alleged agility they provided the wearer, Vibram's FiveFingers became a cultural marvel. Actor Danny Glover even donned them while walking the red carpet at the Deauville Film Festival.
From one end of the body to the other, "shutter shades," first available in the 1980s, were popularised by the late pro-wrestler Macho Man Randy Savage. More recently, Kanye West reinvented them in his video "Stronger," donning an Alain Mikli designed version. Adorning the faces of teenage fans in disregard of reduced vision and questionable tan lines, shutter shades joined the ranks of fashion that could arguably be labeled as frivolous - or, lacking practical purpose.
Kimberly Manne, owner and designer of Warp Designs LLC in Brooklyn, says fashions do not necessarily need to serve a particular purpose. "Historically, [fashion] has defined your level of wealth, your personal grooming, your status. Now, it's more a representation of how explorative you are. […] It is a willingness to play and laugh and explore your culture," says Manne. And what we choose to wear isn't just tied to ourselves, but how we see ourselves within a cultural context. "You got the joke and you belong to that movement. It's a bridge. It creates a dialogue. It's art."
Rosa Fracassa, professor and program coordinator at George Brown College School of Fashion in Toronto, argues that innovations in fashion are just that - innovations. "Some of them really help explore the idea of design and you can sometimes get to something useful out of something that seems so ridiculous at first." So while Vibram's FiveFinger shoes may be an example of ridiculous to some, Fracassa argues that the shoes may be on the more useful end of the utility spectrum when compared to fashions of eras past. "If you look at the history of wearing clothes, people started wearing clothes because they started decorating their bodies. That alone is a frivolous reason, if you will."
Consider poulaines and crackowes - those very pointed shoes of the late Middle Ages. Comfort was not an issue for the wearers, Fracassa says, because the shoes indicated that one belonged to a social class that didn't have to work in the fields; they were a sign of privilege. The Renaissance period ushered in ruffled collars, or "ruffs," that took yards upon yards of lace to create. Queen Elizabeth I of England is easily recognisable in her portraits with heavy material around her neck. And what about the hobble skirts at the turn of the 20th century - so tight at the ankles, women would hobble instead of walk. In the '60s, designers began fashioning paper dresses that would be good for only one or two wears.
The utility of a style is hinged upon our collective definition of beauty, and while that definition continually changes, there are fundamental constants that stay the same. King Louis XIV of France popularised very large, powdered wigs. His reason? To hide his receding hairline. They began to increase in size because he wasn't a tall man, says Fracassa, "Is it tied to being what's beautiful? Of course it is."
Manne, who studied the use of corsets in previous centuries, says corsets were the female equivalent to the powdered wig. "When you consider how women used to bind their bodies, or men would accentuate themselves with chest or shoulder pads, it was an exterior armour that became such a part of your life you were making your body conform by these strange contraptions."
The concept of beauty, in turn, is a reflection of cultural norms. "I think that any shape that's created and any fashion often emphasises the ideal of beauty in the period and also what's happening in the period," says Fracassa. She cites the 1920s, when women were wearing "boyish" clothes with dropped waistlines. During that period, women were looking to win the right to vote. When the 1980s came around, power suits and shoulder pads were the norm for women. It was also a period when women were taking on more managerial roles in the work place. "They were showing that power through their clothing as well," reiterates Fracassa.
While cultural norms and concepts of beauty may be the underlying foundation to fashion, technology is also an essential driving force behind design and development. Not only does it drive the economic engine, it creates a much faster pace at which the industry moves. Because many items in our day-to-day lives don't come with a hefty price tag, they are becoming more quickly disposed of than ever. Consumers don't feel as much of an attachment to their garments and accessories.
"…Something you pay money for, you tend to hang on to for a longer period of time. That's what trends usually are. They're disposable and they usually have a certain price point attached to them. They're definitely not a heritage piece, let's say," says Fracassa.
She cites the 1920s, when women were wearing "boyish" clothes with dropped waistlines. During that period, women were looking to win the right to vote.
A new subtext has developed in last decades as well. Trends in fashion are not just tied to class, definition of beauty or social context anymore, but also cultural classes. An example is that of various music genres: hip-hop, rap, as well as punk or grunge music, are all tied in to a certain lifestyle and way of dressing. We used to identify with just class privilege (or lack thereof), especially in styles and in fabrics, says Manne. Increasingly, the lines are blurred in those realms, but other lines have developed between group identities that are reflected in the way we dress.
"It's important. It's about saying, 'I'm going to surrender something of the practical in order to progress.' Maybe our consciousness says, 'This is the way I need to go to be a part of this - to assimilate.' It becomes as important as language," says Manne.
Certainly, cultural climates draw guidelines for fashion, but those barriers are easily manipulated. The concept of beauty is so vast and interpretations so unique that it has made the world of fashion more ubiquitous than ever before. And, if previous centuries have taught us anything, fashion does not need to be useful to be relevant for generations. Our contemporary lifestyles just move at a pace that may just leave peep toe boots and shutter shades as a footnote in our cultural history.
Click HERE to read the article online.
-----------------------------------------------
In 2005, a relatively unknown company by the name of Vibram introduced a shoe that would rock the sensibilities of the fashion world. By sheer design factor and the alleged agility they provided the wearer, Vibram's FiveFingers became a cultural marvel. Actor Danny Glover even donned them while walking the red carpet at the Deauville Film Festival.
From one end of the body to the other, "shutter shades," first available in the 1980s, were popularised by the late pro-wrestler Macho Man Randy Savage. More recently, Kanye West reinvented them in his video "Stronger," donning an Alain Mikli designed version. Adorning the faces of teenage fans in disregard of reduced vision and questionable tan lines, shutter shades joined the ranks of fashion that could arguably be labeled as frivolous - or, lacking practical purpose.
Kimberly Manne, owner and designer of Warp Designs LLC in Brooklyn, says fashions do not necessarily need to serve a particular purpose. "Historically, [fashion] has defined your level of wealth, your personal grooming, your status. Now, it's more a representation of how explorative you are. […] It is a willingness to play and laugh and explore your culture," says Manne. And what we choose to wear isn't just tied to ourselves, but how we see ourselves within a cultural context. "You got the joke and you belong to that movement. It's a bridge. It creates a dialogue. It's art."
Rosa Fracassa, professor and program coordinator at George Brown College School of Fashion in Toronto, argues that innovations in fashion are just that - innovations. "Some of them really help explore the idea of design and you can sometimes get to something useful out of something that seems so ridiculous at first." So while Vibram's FiveFinger shoes may be an example of ridiculous to some, Fracassa argues that the shoes may be on the more useful end of the utility spectrum when compared to fashions of eras past. "If you look at the history of wearing clothes, people started wearing clothes because they started decorating their bodies. That alone is a frivolous reason, if you will."
Consider poulaines and crackowes - those very pointed shoes of the late Middle Ages. Comfort was not an issue for the wearers, Fracassa says, because the shoes indicated that one belonged to a social class that didn't have to work in the fields; they were a sign of privilege. The Renaissance period ushered in ruffled collars, or "ruffs," that took yards upon yards of lace to create. Queen Elizabeth I of England is easily recognisable in her portraits with heavy material around her neck. And what about the hobble skirts at the turn of the 20th century - so tight at the ankles, women would hobble instead of walk. In the '60s, designers began fashioning paper dresses that would be good for only one or two wears.
The utility of a style is hinged upon our collective definition of beauty, and while that definition continually changes, there are fundamental constants that stay the same. King Louis XIV of France popularised very large, powdered wigs. His reason? To hide his receding hairline. They began to increase in size because he wasn't a tall man, says Fracassa, "Is it tied to being what's beautiful? Of course it is."
Manne, who studied the use of corsets in previous centuries, says corsets were the female equivalent to the powdered wig. "When you consider how women used to bind their bodies, or men would accentuate themselves with chest or shoulder pads, it was an exterior armour that became such a part of your life you were making your body conform by these strange contraptions."
The concept of beauty, in turn, is a reflection of cultural norms. "I think that any shape that's created and any fashion often emphasises the ideal of beauty in the period and also what's happening in the period," says Fracassa. She cites the 1920s, when women were wearing "boyish" clothes with dropped waistlines. During that period, women were looking to win the right to vote. When the 1980s came around, power suits and shoulder pads were the norm for women. It was also a period when women were taking on more managerial roles in the work place. "They were showing that power through their clothing as well," reiterates Fracassa.
While cultural norms and concepts of beauty may be the underlying foundation to fashion, technology is also an essential driving force behind design and development. Not only does it drive the economic engine, it creates a much faster pace at which the industry moves. Because many items in our day-to-day lives don't come with a hefty price tag, they are becoming more quickly disposed of than ever. Consumers don't feel as much of an attachment to their garments and accessories.
"…Something you pay money for, you tend to hang on to for a longer period of time. That's what trends usually are. They're disposable and they usually have a certain price point attached to them. They're definitely not a heritage piece, let's say," says Fracassa.
She cites the 1920s, when women were wearing "boyish" clothes with dropped waistlines. During that period, women were looking to win the right to vote.
A new subtext has developed in last decades as well. Trends in fashion are not just tied to class, definition of beauty or social context anymore, but also cultural classes. An example is that of various music genres: hip-hop, rap, as well as punk or grunge music, are all tied in to a certain lifestyle and way of dressing. We used to identify with just class privilege (or lack thereof), especially in styles and in fabrics, says Manne. Increasingly, the lines are blurred in those realms, but other lines have developed between group identities that are reflected in the way we dress.
"It's important. It's about saying, 'I'm going to surrender something of the practical in order to progress.' Maybe our consciousness says, 'This is the way I need to go to be a part of this - to assimilate.' It becomes as important as language," says Manne.
Certainly, cultural climates draw guidelines for fashion, but those barriers are easily manipulated. The concept of beauty is so vast and interpretations so unique that it has made the world of fashion more ubiquitous than ever before. And, if previous centuries have taught us anything, fashion does not need to be useful to be relevant for generations. Our contemporary lifestyles just move at a pace that may just leave peep toe boots and shutter shades as a footnote in our cultural history.
Fashion and Cross-Cultural Diplomacy
In the course of diplomatic relations, public figures may receive as much commentary for their choice of attire as for what they do and say. As Lisa Xing finds out, fashion diplomacy in cross-cultural relations goes far beyond posing for a photograph in cultural dress. January 2013.
Click HERE to read the story online.
Click HERE to read the story online.
________________________________________________________
When Chinese writer Mo Yan traveled to Sweden in early December to accept the 2012 Nobel Prize in Literature, he didn't just attract criticism for his statements in support of "necessary" censorship laws in the mainland; his choice of clothing for the gala also raised eyebrows. Netizens in China disapproved of his Western black tie attire when he could have worn an outfit that resonated more with Chinese culture.
The emphasis on the sartorial choices of public figures is an indication that fashion indeed plays a role in cross-cultural diplomacy, perhaps now more than ever. "It wasn't an issue for [Mo Yan], but for people on the Internet," says Hazel Clark, Research Chair at the School of Art and Design, History and Theory at Parsons. Clark believes the public is more concerned with issues of dress now because they're exposed to so many more pictures of not only public figures, but of people in general.
In addition to the Internet and social media, Clark suggests another reason for the controversy surrounding the writer's choice of attire: BRIC countries like China are still trying to establish themselves in the world. "Clothing is very important in nation-building," she says. Because China became divorced from its traditions as a result of political upheaval over the last century, the need to re-establish itself seems to be paramount; one way to do this is through reinforcing its cultural presence and ultimately, its identity. "We are so aware of one another, so visually oriented that clothing is how we kind of talk to each other," says Clark. "I don't think it's the only thing [in cultural identity], but it's a part of our customs and practices and part of us being profoundly visual communicators in the contemporary world."
The fact that we are living in an increasingly visual society isn't lost to the tailors on Savile Row. Built sometime in the early 1700s, Henry Poole & Co. is often credited for beginning the made-to-fit traditions of Savile Row in the mid-1800s, boasting customers like Charles Dickens and Napoleon III while avoiding being labeled archaic. The "golden mile of tailoring" in Central London's Mayfair district holds warrants for the Royal family and political heavyweights, many of whom aren't disclosed due to the street's policy of discretion, says Simon Cundey, director of Henry Poole & Co.
"Every time we meet a customer, we are analysing his walk of life and how he perceives himself and how he comes across to the general public […] We have a certain mayor of London that could use some help," laughs Cundey, who has been with the company for 18 years. He also emphasises the etiquette issue: the amount of effort one puts into a meeting with someone reinforces a certain cultural courtesy as well - the style of dress, especially across borders, reflects a gracious guest.
Being in the business for more than 200 years has given the artisans at Henry Poole quite a bit of insight into the conduct of sartorial formality. In 1921, Hirohito, the young emperor of Japan, was to make his first state visit to the UK and had no Western dress in which to meet the King of England. Henry Poole & Co. had a dispatch sent to the island of Gibraltar to meet with the emperor's boat before it arrived on the island. Telegram technology allowed for measurements to be sent back to London so tailors could have a suit waiting for him upon his arrival.
"You tend to wear the dress of the nationality you are going to and not where you are coming from," says Cundey. He notes that when Queen Elizabeth leaves the island, she makes an effort to incorporate something in her outfit that relates back to the host country. "These kind of things can be put into the garment of a very discreet nature. She'll pick out some sort of flower or national animal and it will be incorporated into a dress or in the jacket."
The importance of echoing the cultural flavour of the country one is visiting is reinforced by Lynne Marks, an image consultant and founder of the London Image Institute based in Atlanta, Georgia. "You don't want to stand out like a sore thumb," she quips. "The protocol [for someone like Mo Yan to wear black tie] was correct because it was the event that dictated protocol."
A public figure's fashion choices are closely associated with his or her understanding of cultural, political and religious context. Cundey cites that in Gulf countries, men traditionally wear a dishdasha. "For the average Westerner, they may look the same, but there are different styles of trim which pinpoint different parts of the Middle East they come from."
Consequently, a sort of fashion diplomacy has emerged as a facet of political diplomacy. The 2006 APEC conference held in Hanoi, Vietnam was a prime example of the convergence of cross-cultural awareness - and the awareness of cameras and media being present for the photo op. Photos of the event show world leaders like George Bush, Vladimir Putin and Stephen Harper in traditional Vietnamese ao dai silk tunics.
"They looked absolutely absurd and mad," argues Clark. "There's a difference between wearing national dress and when it actually turns into fancy dress." Although it's perhaps a show of cultural diplomacy and, of course, a chance to vamp for the cameras, Marks also agrees that had the leaders been left to their own devices, they probably would have opted for the "boring, old suit."
The tradition of the cultural garb exchange at APEC then begs the question of why Barack Obama chose to end a nearly 20-year old custom started by Bill Clinton for the 2011 APEC Conference in Honolulu. "I think he's very conscious of not looking like a fool," states Clark, who refers to this tradition as more of a performance. "I think Obama is very careful. He's the first African-American president. I think someone like Bush just didn't give a damn. He's part of the hierarchy of presidents."
Clark reinforces the point that there has to be a certain consciousness of who one is and how one wants to be perceived. Given that Obama has received an influx of skepticism (mostly from the right) about his birth origins and associations with certain political groups, there is no doubt he must tread a finer line than those in power before him.
Even vice-presidential candidate Paul Ryan received much flack for his decision to pose for Time magazine while pumping iron in October 2012; critics believed that it resulted in the public taking him less seriously. "I think there is a question as to the extent to which politicians have to keep their distance [from the public] and one way is through dress code," says Clark. She likens formal businesswear in politics to a sort of uniform for the job. Although it may not be something he or she may not choose to wear in a social setting, public figures are always considered in the spotlight; if someone is not seen wearing it, it takes them out of the job and out of context.
But of course, the idea of the Western suit being an international standard in diplomatic and business dealings is precisely that - Western. In Africa, many men wear the agbada and women the buba for formal events, while the sari is accepted as business dress in India. However, at the United Nations, an organisation that seeks to unite cultures, the common denominator in prescribed dress is, in fact, the Western suit. To a large extent, Western norms have been adopted as universal norms and standards. Traversing these long-held borders may not be as simple as posing for a photo in the dress of another culture.
When Chinese writer Mo Yan traveled to Sweden in early December to accept the 2012 Nobel Prize in Literature, he didn't just attract criticism for his statements in support of "necessary" censorship laws in the mainland; his choice of clothing for the gala also raised eyebrows. Netizens in China disapproved of his Western black tie attire when he could have worn an outfit that resonated more with Chinese culture.
The emphasis on the sartorial choices of public figures is an indication that fashion indeed plays a role in cross-cultural diplomacy, perhaps now more than ever. "It wasn't an issue for [Mo Yan], but for people on the Internet," says Hazel Clark, Research Chair at the School of Art and Design, History and Theory at Parsons. Clark believes the public is more concerned with issues of dress now because they're exposed to so many more pictures of not only public figures, but of people in general.
In addition to the Internet and social media, Clark suggests another reason for the controversy surrounding the writer's choice of attire: BRIC countries like China are still trying to establish themselves in the world. "Clothing is very important in nation-building," she says. Because China became divorced from its traditions as a result of political upheaval over the last century, the need to re-establish itself seems to be paramount; one way to do this is through reinforcing its cultural presence and ultimately, its identity. "We are so aware of one another, so visually oriented that clothing is how we kind of talk to each other," says Clark. "I don't think it's the only thing [in cultural identity], but it's a part of our customs and practices and part of us being profoundly visual communicators in the contemporary world."
The fact that we are living in an increasingly visual society isn't lost to the tailors on Savile Row. Built sometime in the early 1700s, Henry Poole & Co. is often credited for beginning the made-to-fit traditions of Savile Row in the mid-1800s, boasting customers like Charles Dickens and Napoleon III while avoiding being labeled archaic. The "golden mile of tailoring" in Central London's Mayfair district holds warrants for the Royal family and political heavyweights, many of whom aren't disclosed due to the street's policy of discretion, says Simon Cundey, director of Henry Poole & Co.
"Every time we meet a customer, we are analysing his walk of life and how he perceives himself and how he comes across to the general public […] We have a certain mayor of London that could use some help," laughs Cundey, who has been with the company for 18 years. He also emphasises the etiquette issue: the amount of effort one puts into a meeting with someone reinforces a certain cultural courtesy as well - the style of dress, especially across borders, reflects a gracious guest.
Being in the business for more than 200 years has given the artisans at Henry Poole quite a bit of insight into the conduct of sartorial formality. In 1921, Hirohito, the young emperor of Japan, was to make his first state visit to the UK and had no Western dress in which to meet the King of England. Henry Poole & Co. had a dispatch sent to the island of Gibraltar to meet with the emperor's boat before it arrived on the island. Telegram technology allowed for measurements to be sent back to London so tailors could have a suit waiting for him upon his arrival.
"You tend to wear the dress of the nationality you are going to and not where you are coming from," says Cundey. He notes that when Queen Elizabeth leaves the island, she makes an effort to incorporate something in her outfit that relates back to the host country. "These kind of things can be put into the garment of a very discreet nature. She'll pick out some sort of flower or national animal and it will be incorporated into a dress or in the jacket."
The importance of echoing the cultural flavour of the country one is visiting is reinforced by Lynne Marks, an image consultant and founder of the London Image Institute based in Atlanta, Georgia. "You don't want to stand out like a sore thumb," she quips. "The protocol [for someone like Mo Yan to wear black tie] was correct because it was the event that dictated protocol."
A public figure's fashion choices are closely associated with his or her understanding of cultural, political and religious context. Cundey cites that in Gulf countries, men traditionally wear a dishdasha. "For the average Westerner, they may look the same, but there are different styles of trim which pinpoint different parts of the Middle East they come from."
Consequently, a sort of fashion diplomacy has emerged as a facet of political diplomacy. The 2006 APEC conference held in Hanoi, Vietnam was a prime example of the convergence of cross-cultural awareness - and the awareness of cameras and media being present for the photo op. Photos of the event show world leaders like George Bush, Vladimir Putin and Stephen Harper in traditional Vietnamese ao dai silk tunics.
"They looked absolutely absurd and mad," argues Clark. "There's a difference between wearing national dress and when it actually turns into fancy dress." Although it's perhaps a show of cultural diplomacy and, of course, a chance to vamp for the cameras, Marks also agrees that had the leaders been left to their own devices, they probably would have opted for the "boring, old suit."
The tradition of the cultural garb exchange at APEC then begs the question of why Barack Obama chose to end a nearly 20-year old custom started by Bill Clinton for the 2011 APEC Conference in Honolulu. "I think he's very conscious of not looking like a fool," states Clark, who refers to this tradition as more of a performance. "I think Obama is very careful. He's the first African-American president. I think someone like Bush just didn't give a damn. He's part of the hierarchy of presidents."
Clark reinforces the point that there has to be a certain consciousness of who one is and how one wants to be perceived. Given that Obama has received an influx of skepticism (mostly from the right) about his birth origins and associations with certain political groups, there is no doubt he must tread a finer line than those in power before him.
Even vice-presidential candidate Paul Ryan received much flack for his decision to pose for Time magazine while pumping iron in October 2012; critics believed that it resulted in the public taking him less seriously. "I think there is a question as to the extent to which politicians have to keep their distance [from the public] and one way is through dress code," says Clark. She likens formal businesswear in politics to a sort of uniform for the job. Although it may not be something he or she may not choose to wear in a social setting, public figures are always considered in the spotlight; if someone is not seen wearing it, it takes them out of the job and out of context.
But of course, the idea of the Western suit being an international standard in diplomatic and business dealings is precisely that - Western. In Africa, many men wear the agbada and women the buba for formal events, while the sari is accepted as business dress in India. However, at the United Nations, an organisation that seeks to unite cultures, the common denominator in prescribed dress is, in fact, the Western suit. To a large extent, Western norms have been adopted as universal norms and standards. Traversing these long-held borders may not be as simple as posing for a photo in the dress of another culture.
Manufacturing at Home: The Allen Edmonds Story
As more North American manufacturers seek labour overseas, the shoe industry is no exception. But as Lisa Xing finds out, staying true to its roots might just be the secret to the success and longevity of Allen Edmonds, one of the last prominent American shoemakers to keep operations at home. January 2012.
Click HERE to read the story online.
Click HERE to read the story online.
________________________________________________________
Executives at Allen Edmonds are resisting the tide that has been driving the operations of fashion houses overseas. Instead, a 390-strong workforce mans the warehouse floor of the upscale men's shoe manufacturer in Port Washington, Wisconsin. While that number has fluctuated with the economic times over the years, executives past and present have held true to the concept of the Made in America brand.
The costs of staying on home turf are higher because of wages, benefits, taxes, health care and other government regulatory costs, but the company's CEO, Paul Grangaard, says that extra costs, along with his business philosophy, are huge contributing factors to the company's recent financial success.
Grangaard was a partner at Goldner Hawn Johnson & Morrison, the private equity firm that bought a majority stake in Allen Edmonds in 2006. In 2008, he became Allen Edmonds' CEO, at a time when, says Grangaard, only about one per cent of shoesbought in America were actually made there.
The company is now one of the last large shoe manufacturers to keep operations in America. Despite higher costs domestically, the company says it has doubled its revenue in the last four years, finishing 2012 with an estimated US$120 million in revenue.
But sales figures aside, Allen Edmonds doesn't measure its success in numbers, implies Grangaard. The CEO recalls hiring a man who was coming out of unemployment: the man had told him that the job was the difference between his daughter going to college or not. "This is the best market value of success," he says. "Most focus on shareholder returns, employment growth. But, if you do right by employees and customers…you'll do just fine by shareholders and that's certainly what's happened here" - unorthodox sentiments from a man who spent a large part of his professional life as an investment banker.
But apparently, the philosophy allows workers to do what they do best: jobs that don't just require someone to operate machinery but to understand and appreciate the craft itself. Any given worker on the floor takes about three months to train. "There's a good Midwestern can-do attitude about the place," says Jim Kass, the head of production, and an employee of two decades. The "can-do" Kass is referring to, is epitomised in a number of areas: the company's ability to respond quickly to customers due to 93 per cent of operations being located in America; plus, the unique process of manufacturing its footwear.
Allen Edmonds uses the welting process - stitching a strip of leather to the sole of the shoe, instead of using a metal shank - to help keep the shoe's shape and add comfort. This is just one of more than 200 steps required to create an Allen Edmonds shoe. On any given day, a completed shoe will cross the hands of 70 workers. "There's a lot of machinery in it, but it's all guided by really careful operators," says Kass. "It's a manufacturing plant but it's almost a craft shop. You walk through and it looks like a fast, lean operation but when you really get into the details of how the shoes are put together, it's amazing how much craftsmanship is involved."
Fifty workers alone are involved in building the sole onto a shoe and because the shoes are built from the bottom up, they can also be re-built. Kass says it is not uncommon to have shoes that are 30 years old come into the facility to be mended. The flexibility with production and shipping times also speaks to Allen Edmonds' ability to gain popularity through word-of-mouth. Older generations have brought the younger into the brand, not so surprisingly, considering Allen Edmonds garnered much of its popularity during the Second World War, outfitting the Army and Navy.
Many customers have worn their shoes ever since. These customers, in turn, become evangelists for the Allen Edmonds brand. "[When] a young man in college or in the early part of their career…starting to look at shoes other than tennis shoes, they'll be told by their father, a mentor or colleague. It's worth of mouth and from generation to generation." The tradition seems to extend beyond the average citizen; both Bush presidents, Bill Clinton, as well as Canada's Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, are customers.
The brand's recent resurgence can be attributed to its focus on craftsmanship, but increasingly its ability to adapt to advancements in technology and demands of the market. The CEO of less than five years has found a way to keep with heritage and tradition, while concurrently extending the company's reach to a younger demographic.
The reinvention began when Allen Edmonds started placing emphasis on product development. In addition to bringing back classic styles, like the cap toe or wing-tip brogue, there's also a creative culture within the company that isn't just reserved for a specified design team. "We've changed a lot over the years," says Kass, who was hired right after he completed graduate school. "When I first started, it did look more like the traditional stuff - black and brown shoes running on the conveyer. Now, [there is] a lot of variety, a lot of colour."
"I just saw about 40 of the Jingle Bell Moks going down the production line," says Grangaard. The shoe is a modern take on the wing-tip shoe, two-toned with red and white laces, literally unveiled just in time for the Christmas shopping season; the style was conceived a week before Black Friday. "We like the fact that great American styling and heritage is delivered by great American production. We would lose our ability to [do product development] on the fly. If we had to go over and have someone live in China for a month to develop a new product, then come back…then wait another six months to get the product delivered, we'd be a lot more regimented," he continues. "We don't have a problem with long shipping half a world away."
Grangaard has also embraced new, edgier colour schemes and manufacturing while avoiding time constraints that comes with overseas production by using the internet. He has developed what he calls "web gems," a throw to ESPN's baseball highlights that viewers can vote for online. "[Web gems are for] shoes that we think are a little bit out there. They're kind of fun, but we wouldn't want to invest in inventory and try to spread around our stores if they don't sell."
So, instead, shoes like the Jingle Bell Mok are made to order. In the month since their conception, Allen Edmonds has sold more than 4,000 pairs. This could be considered surprising, since most winter merchandise is rolled out by the fall season, though the CEO argues its selling success hinges on the male shopping mentality. "Women are trained that summer starts in February…Men are much sloppier," he explains. "[For us], summer starts around Memorial Day and is still going on in late July."
While the company can certainly say that it already has a loyal following of men who have stood by the brand for decades, the most effective way to ensure its advancement and longevity is perhaps in hiring a business-minded CEO who just happens to be a long-time, loyal customer. "I get asked all the time, sometimes with a sort of skeptical brow - do you do a lot of focus groups? Or, 'Who's in charge of the design?'" he says.
The answer to that is simple: Grangaard himself is part of the team that heads product development. As he is part of a network of executives, investors and business people who wear the Allen Edmonds shoe, arguably he knows the target audience because he is part of it. "You don't have to tell me what the guys wear or who wears Allen Edmonds. I also know what they wear when they're not wearing Allen Edmonds. I know the market."
The next step is expanding into markets of serious competitors. The company has recently opened a store in Shanghai and Grangaard hopes to do the same across Europe, where there are many more hand-crafted and home-grown shoe companies. "We want to have a personality as a company," he says, explaining why he thinks Allen Edmonds stands out among this lot. "We're serious a lot, but we also enjoy having fun and we want our company to reflect that."
And it may very well be the ability to hold the title of a big-league corporation while still maintaining a hands-on attitude that will see the wing-tips and brogues in the closets of the already-established customer base, but increasingly, on the feet of a brand new generation.
Executives at Allen Edmonds are resisting the tide that has been driving the operations of fashion houses overseas. Instead, a 390-strong workforce mans the warehouse floor of the upscale men's shoe manufacturer in Port Washington, Wisconsin. While that number has fluctuated with the economic times over the years, executives past and present have held true to the concept of the Made in America brand.
The costs of staying on home turf are higher because of wages, benefits, taxes, health care and other government regulatory costs, but the company's CEO, Paul Grangaard, says that extra costs, along with his business philosophy, are huge contributing factors to the company's recent financial success.
Grangaard was a partner at Goldner Hawn Johnson & Morrison, the private equity firm that bought a majority stake in Allen Edmonds in 2006. In 2008, he became Allen Edmonds' CEO, at a time when, says Grangaard, only about one per cent of shoesbought in America were actually made there.
The company is now one of the last large shoe manufacturers to keep operations in America. Despite higher costs domestically, the company says it has doubled its revenue in the last four years, finishing 2012 with an estimated US$120 million in revenue.
But sales figures aside, Allen Edmonds doesn't measure its success in numbers, implies Grangaard. The CEO recalls hiring a man who was coming out of unemployment: the man had told him that the job was the difference between his daughter going to college or not. "This is the best market value of success," he says. "Most focus on shareholder returns, employment growth. But, if you do right by employees and customers…you'll do just fine by shareholders and that's certainly what's happened here" - unorthodox sentiments from a man who spent a large part of his professional life as an investment banker.
But apparently, the philosophy allows workers to do what they do best: jobs that don't just require someone to operate machinery but to understand and appreciate the craft itself. Any given worker on the floor takes about three months to train. "There's a good Midwestern can-do attitude about the place," says Jim Kass, the head of production, and an employee of two decades. The "can-do" Kass is referring to, is epitomised in a number of areas: the company's ability to respond quickly to customers due to 93 per cent of operations being located in America; plus, the unique process of manufacturing its footwear.
Allen Edmonds uses the welting process - stitching a strip of leather to the sole of the shoe, instead of using a metal shank - to help keep the shoe's shape and add comfort. This is just one of more than 200 steps required to create an Allen Edmonds shoe. On any given day, a completed shoe will cross the hands of 70 workers. "There's a lot of machinery in it, but it's all guided by really careful operators," says Kass. "It's a manufacturing plant but it's almost a craft shop. You walk through and it looks like a fast, lean operation but when you really get into the details of how the shoes are put together, it's amazing how much craftsmanship is involved."
Fifty workers alone are involved in building the sole onto a shoe and because the shoes are built from the bottom up, they can also be re-built. Kass says it is not uncommon to have shoes that are 30 years old come into the facility to be mended. The flexibility with production and shipping times also speaks to Allen Edmonds' ability to gain popularity through word-of-mouth. Older generations have brought the younger into the brand, not so surprisingly, considering Allen Edmonds garnered much of its popularity during the Second World War, outfitting the Army and Navy.
Many customers have worn their shoes ever since. These customers, in turn, become evangelists for the Allen Edmonds brand. "[When] a young man in college or in the early part of their career…starting to look at shoes other than tennis shoes, they'll be told by their father, a mentor or colleague. It's worth of mouth and from generation to generation." The tradition seems to extend beyond the average citizen; both Bush presidents, Bill Clinton, as well as Canada's Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, are customers.
The brand's recent resurgence can be attributed to its focus on craftsmanship, but increasingly its ability to adapt to advancements in technology and demands of the market. The CEO of less than five years has found a way to keep with heritage and tradition, while concurrently extending the company's reach to a younger demographic.
The reinvention began when Allen Edmonds started placing emphasis on product development. In addition to bringing back classic styles, like the cap toe or wing-tip brogue, there's also a creative culture within the company that isn't just reserved for a specified design team. "We've changed a lot over the years," says Kass, who was hired right after he completed graduate school. "When I first started, it did look more like the traditional stuff - black and brown shoes running on the conveyer. Now, [there is] a lot of variety, a lot of colour."
"I just saw about 40 of the Jingle Bell Moks going down the production line," says Grangaard. The shoe is a modern take on the wing-tip shoe, two-toned with red and white laces, literally unveiled just in time for the Christmas shopping season; the style was conceived a week before Black Friday. "We like the fact that great American styling and heritage is delivered by great American production. We would lose our ability to [do product development] on the fly. If we had to go over and have someone live in China for a month to develop a new product, then come back…then wait another six months to get the product delivered, we'd be a lot more regimented," he continues. "We don't have a problem with long shipping half a world away."
Grangaard has also embraced new, edgier colour schemes and manufacturing while avoiding time constraints that comes with overseas production by using the internet. He has developed what he calls "web gems," a throw to ESPN's baseball highlights that viewers can vote for online. "[Web gems are for] shoes that we think are a little bit out there. They're kind of fun, but we wouldn't want to invest in inventory and try to spread around our stores if they don't sell."
So, instead, shoes like the Jingle Bell Mok are made to order. In the month since their conception, Allen Edmonds has sold more than 4,000 pairs. This could be considered surprising, since most winter merchandise is rolled out by the fall season, though the CEO argues its selling success hinges on the male shopping mentality. "Women are trained that summer starts in February…Men are much sloppier," he explains. "[For us], summer starts around Memorial Day and is still going on in late July."
While the company can certainly say that it already has a loyal following of men who have stood by the brand for decades, the most effective way to ensure its advancement and longevity is perhaps in hiring a business-minded CEO who just happens to be a long-time, loyal customer. "I get asked all the time, sometimes with a sort of skeptical brow - do you do a lot of focus groups? Or, 'Who's in charge of the design?'" he says.
The answer to that is simple: Grangaard himself is part of the team that heads product development. As he is part of a network of executives, investors and business people who wear the Allen Edmonds shoe, arguably he knows the target audience because he is part of it. "You don't have to tell me what the guys wear or who wears Allen Edmonds. I also know what they wear when they're not wearing Allen Edmonds. I know the market."
The next step is expanding into markets of serious competitors. The company has recently opened a store in Shanghai and Grangaard hopes to do the same across Europe, where there are many more hand-crafted and home-grown shoe companies. "We want to have a personality as a company," he says, explaining why he thinks Allen Edmonds stands out among this lot. "We're serious a lot, but we also enjoy having fun and we want our company to reflect that."
And it may very well be the ability to hold the title of a big-league corporation while still maintaining a hands-on attitude that will see the wing-tips and brogues in the closets of the already-established customer base, but increasingly, on the feet of a brand new generation.
Instant Images: The Role of Digital Photography
With the ubiquity of smartphones and photography apps like Instagram, the concept of photography has changed dramatically in a short period of time. Lisa Xing explores the mobile photography terrain and the role of the photographer within it. November 2012.
Click HERE to read the story on The Genteel.
Click HERE to read the story on The Genteel.
________________________________________________________
Not so long ago, photographers were sneaking film canisters out of war zones to shed light on conflicts unfolding across the world. They worked in dark rooms, mixing chemicals, working with light and negatives. The end results were images the world had never seen before - images that changed the way people perceived cultures and issues.
The tactile nature of traditional photography may resonate with purists as an indispensable part of the medium, but the way the medium has been used and interpreted over the last decade has changed dramatically in a short period of time. News agencies and artists alike are learning to use and navigate a brand new world, one that exists solely in that elusive fourth dimension - the Internet; where photographs are quickly produced, shared and consumed.
Now, photography is considered as a medium that does not exist on its own, but one that is coupled with social media platforms. Take Instagram, for example, the photo-sharing application that Facebook recently acquired. As of September 2012, it had over 100 million users, who have shared upwards of four billion images and those numbers only continue to grow.
Time magazine made headlines recently, rounding up five photographers to document the effects of Hurricane Sandy in the northeast - all on their mobile phones, all using Instagram's platform. Time's decision, to commission work done with phones and apps, was motivated by necessity; the advent of smartphone technology now means decent-quality cameras are widely available, dominating a large part of the photography market. Photo-sharing forums, like Instagram, have created consumer demand for material that isn't just effective, but immediate.
"This is a moment where change is so rapid, particularly in photojournalism," says Ed Kashi, one of the chosen Hurricane Sandy photographers. "It's also an exciting time to embrace the changes in how we are and can communicate to broader, non-traditional audiences and further our reach."
The idea of rapid communication is one of the overarching themes of mobile photography, and perhaps inseparable from a form of public relations. Uploading phone photos provides a sense of transparency and insight into the observations of not only photojournalists and artists, but politicians and celebrities alike. Through their phones, public personalities are able to reach audiences who may not follow traditional media. American President Barack Obama has nearly 1.8 million followers, while teen heart-throb singer Justin Bieber has more than four million.
Kashi himself has just over 7,000 followers on the photo-sharing network. In the last few months, he has started using the platform seriously, which has opened doors to other opportunities as well, including working with the New Yorker on its weekly feed and managing National Geographic's Instagram.
While Kashi initially found success in photography on a more traditional platform - shooting for the print editions of LA Times and National Geographic - other photographers have used social networking platforms to launch their careers. Eelco Roos hails from The Hague and works at a global IT company in Amsterdam. Since joining Instagram one year ago, he has already amassed 200,000 followers. Roos says he was always interested in photography, but that he began to seriously pursue it after he bought his first iPhone, the 3GS. "I wanted to be one of the first in The Netherlands to show the possibilities with mobile photography."
Roos began pouring over tutorials and experimenting with different apps. "When you're on a social media platform and more and more users start following you everyday, you know you are doing something right," he says. "It's much harder to get this kind of recognition through other types of media." The recognition Roos is talking about includes his first iPhone photo exhibition (at the Crossing Border festival in The Hague), a campaign with Johnnie Walker, and invitations to discuss mobile photography at conferences around the world.
Taking photographs and uploading them into the public space is making photography a much more dominant part of our language. It is quickly becoming an indispensable and unavoidable way we talk to each other - one that transcends geography.
"The game has really changed with mobile media and social media," says James Ramer, Director of Graduate Studies in Photography at Parsons The New School, in New York City. Ramer taught one of the first digital photography classes at Parsons a decade ago and says the school is constantly trying to adapt its curriculum to reflect changes in the real world. "Our perceptions of photographs is changing because the images exist in a stream. [...] The way we teach photographers is more a producer/director kind of thing. It's not just about a print anymore. [...]They're very much affected by their context, more so than just the way photographs are being constructed."
The changes in the medium include breakthroughs in the portability of the device itself, which is inextricably linked to its functionality. A smartphone can now take decent-quality photographs with the touch of a button and, with another swipe or two, a high-resolution video. Ramer suggests another reason smartphone photography is becoming a game-changer is that it arguably produces the most "truthful" or "authentic" image - the antithesis to the common notion that magazine photographs are very likely to have been manipulated or airbrushed in some way.
It's not just the image itself, though, that is making mobile photography a core component of photography courses, but the speed at which photographers are able to share pictures and receive instant feedback in the form of "likes" and "comments." It's also a new way we write our autobiographies. "We can use it for visual journalling, for the mundane and prosaic, but also for the poetic and dramatic moments of our daily lives," says Kashi.
But what role will traditional forms of photography have in this digital conversation? Steve McCurry photographed of one of the most iconic and recognised photographs of the 20th century: Afghan Girl. He spent the early part of his career sneaking film out of war zones by sewing rolls of film into his clothes. And although he doesn't yet have a Twitter nor Instagram handle, he's had a Facebook page for the last four years. "Communication is always a good thing. [...] I don't see a downside to it. A lot of people - good, serious, intelligent people - use Facebook everyday. It's just the reality," he says.
When asked whether or not he was resistant to the push toward digital photography, McCurry admits he was, noting that it's human nature to resist change. At the same time, he challenges this resistance with a smattering of rhetorical questions - whether cars would be as ubiquitous as they are today if people were set on using the horse and buggy, or if anybody really uses the typewriter anymore. "An image taken by a cell phone, I think, is as valid as a sort of 8x10 view camera. Why not? If you have an extraordinary image that tells a story [with] shade, emotion, composition, who's making the rules?'
Nevertheless, the renowned photographer (who reveals that he does, in fact, take phone photos, though not for professional purposes) says there are constraints when it comes to creating a good image. "[There is] something to be said about crisp, clear, beautiful prints with nuance...Is every person with a cell phone making great art, great pictures? [No.] But you take a skilled someone, with a great eye, they can do amazing things with anything."
While photography has undoubtedly acquired a new dimension - one that fosters a new type of communication between photographer and viewer - it also seems like the fundamental purposes of the medium have not changed as much as some may think. As always, we still take photos to immortalise moments and to communicate what we see to others. Rather, it is the way we engage in the dialogue that has undergone a transformation; taking photographs and uploading them into the public space is making photography a much more dominant part of our language. It is quickly becoming an indispensable and unavoidable way we talk to each other - one that transcends geography.
While there is a certain nostalgia associated with the "old" way of doing things, as Ramer says, it's because the digital platform is still in its infancy. As we still don't fully understand the implications of this new language in the digital realm, the idea of it can be daunting. Nonetheless, this new frontier remains compelling, as there is still a breadth of potential not yet explored.
What is undeniable is the changing speed and quantity at which we produce and "publish" photos. These are conditions that will ultimately affect the way we use the medium. Perhaps our ability to navigate this new platform is not contingent on the individual to understand it right away, nor to subscribe to an objective assessment of its purpose. Instead, our understanding may come from a subjective experience of the continuous stream of imagery and choosing elements of it that will, ultimately, leave an impression on our personal lives.
Not so long ago, photographers were sneaking film canisters out of war zones to shed light on conflicts unfolding across the world. They worked in dark rooms, mixing chemicals, working with light and negatives. The end results were images the world had never seen before - images that changed the way people perceived cultures and issues.
The tactile nature of traditional photography may resonate with purists as an indispensable part of the medium, but the way the medium has been used and interpreted over the last decade has changed dramatically in a short period of time. News agencies and artists alike are learning to use and navigate a brand new world, one that exists solely in that elusive fourth dimension - the Internet; where photographs are quickly produced, shared and consumed.
Now, photography is considered as a medium that does not exist on its own, but one that is coupled with social media platforms. Take Instagram, for example, the photo-sharing application that Facebook recently acquired. As of September 2012, it had over 100 million users, who have shared upwards of four billion images and those numbers only continue to grow.
Time magazine made headlines recently, rounding up five photographers to document the effects of Hurricane Sandy in the northeast - all on their mobile phones, all using Instagram's platform. Time's decision, to commission work done with phones and apps, was motivated by necessity; the advent of smartphone technology now means decent-quality cameras are widely available, dominating a large part of the photography market. Photo-sharing forums, like Instagram, have created consumer demand for material that isn't just effective, but immediate.
"This is a moment where change is so rapid, particularly in photojournalism," says Ed Kashi, one of the chosen Hurricane Sandy photographers. "It's also an exciting time to embrace the changes in how we are and can communicate to broader, non-traditional audiences and further our reach."
The idea of rapid communication is one of the overarching themes of mobile photography, and perhaps inseparable from a form of public relations. Uploading phone photos provides a sense of transparency and insight into the observations of not only photojournalists and artists, but politicians and celebrities alike. Through their phones, public personalities are able to reach audiences who may not follow traditional media. American President Barack Obama has nearly 1.8 million followers, while teen heart-throb singer Justin Bieber has more than four million.
Kashi himself has just over 7,000 followers on the photo-sharing network. In the last few months, he has started using the platform seriously, which has opened doors to other opportunities as well, including working with the New Yorker on its weekly feed and managing National Geographic's Instagram.
While Kashi initially found success in photography on a more traditional platform - shooting for the print editions of LA Times and National Geographic - other photographers have used social networking platforms to launch their careers. Eelco Roos hails from The Hague and works at a global IT company in Amsterdam. Since joining Instagram one year ago, he has already amassed 200,000 followers. Roos says he was always interested in photography, but that he began to seriously pursue it after he bought his first iPhone, the 3GS. "I wanted to be one of the first in The Netherlands to show the possibilities with mobile photography."
Roos began pouring over tutorials and experimenting with different apps. "When you're on a social media platform and more and more users start following you everyday, you know you are doing something right," he says. "It's much harder to get this kind of recognition through other types of media." The recognition Roos is talking about includes his first iPhone photo exhibition (at the Crossing Border festival in The Hague), a campaign with Johnnie Walker, and invitations to discuss mobile photography at conferences around the world.
Taking photographs and uploading them into the public space is making photography a much more dominant part of our language. It is quickly becoming an indispensable and unavoidable way we talk to each other - one that transcends geography.
"The game has really changed with mobile media and social media," says James Ramer, Director of Graduate Studies in Photography at Parsons The New School, in New York City. Ramer taught one of the first digital photography classes at Parsons a decade ago and says the school is constantly trying to adapt its curriculum to reflect changes in the real world. "Our perceptions of photographs is changing because the images exist in a stream. [...] The way we teach photographers is more a producer/director kind of thing. It's not just about a print anymore. [...]They're very much affected by their context, more so than just the way photographs are being constructed."
The changes in the medium include breakthroughs in the portability of the device itself, which is inextricably linked to its functionality. A smartphone can now take decent-quality photographs with the touch of a button and, with another swipe or two, a high-resolution video. Ramer suggests another reason smartphone photography is becoming a game-changer is that it arguably produces the most "truthful" or "authentic" image - the antithesis to the common notion that magazine photographs are very likely to have been manipulated or airbrushed in some way.
It's not just the image itself, though, that is making mobile photography a core component of photography courses, but the speed at which photographers are able to share pictures and receive instant feedback in the form of "likes" and "comments." It's also a new way we write our autobiographies. "We can use it for visual journalling, for the mundane and prosaic, but also for the poetic and dramatic moments of our daily lives," says Kashi.
But what role will traditional forms of photography have in this digital conversation? Steve McCurry photographed of one of the most iconic and recognised photographs of the 20th century: Afghan Girl. He spent the early part of his career sneaking film out of war zones by sewing rolls of film into his clothes. And although he doesn't yet have a Twitter nor Instagram handle, he's had a Facebook page for the last four years. "Communication is always a good thing. [...] I don't see a downside to it. A lot of people - good, serious, intelligent people - use Facebook everyday. It's just the reality," he says.
When asked whether or not he was resistant to the push toward digital photography, McCurry admits he was, noting that it's human nature to resist change. At the same time, he challenges this resistance with a smattering of rhetorical questions - whether cars would be as ubiquitous as they are today if people were set on using the horse and buggy, or if anybody really uses the typewriter anymore. "An image taken by a cell phone, I think, is as valid as a sort of 8x10 view camera. Why not? If you have an extraordinary image that tells a story [with] shade, emotion, composition, who's making the rules?'
Nevertheless, the renowned photographer (who reveals that he does, in fact, take phone photos, though not for professional purposes) says there are constraints when it comes to creating a good image. "[There is] something to be said about crisp, clear, beautiful prints with nuance...Is every person with a cell phone making great art, great pictures? [No.] But you take a skilled someone, with a great eye, they can do amazing things with anything."
While photography has undoubtedly acquired a new dimension - one that fosters a new type of communication between photographer and viewer - it also seems like the fundamental purposes of the medium have not changed as much as some may think. As always, we still take photos to immortalise moments and to communicate what we see to others. Rather, it is the way we engage in the dialogue that has undergone a transformation; taking photographs and uploading them into the public space is making photography a much more dominant part of our language. It is quickly becoming an indispensable and unavoidable way we talk to each other - one that transcends geography.
While there is a certain nostalgia associated with the "old" way of doing things, as Ramer says, it's because the digital platform is still in its infancy. As we still don't fully understand the implications of this new language in the digital realm, the idea of it can be daunting. Nonetheless, this new frontier remains compelling, as there is still a breadth of potential not yet explored.
What is undeniable is the changing speed and quantity at which we produce and "publish" photos. These are conditions that will ultimately affect the way we use the medium. Perhaps our ability to navigate this new platform is not contingent on the individual to understand it right away, nor to subscribe to an objective assessment of its purpose. Instead, our understanding may come from a subjective experience of the continuous stream of imagery and choosing elements of it that will, ultimately, leave an impression on our personal lives.
Emerging Designers: Fashion and the City
Fashion schools produce hoards of young designers who hope to have their names grace magazines and labels. However, only a handful will end up realising that dream. Depending on the city, emerging designers face unique geographical challenges that they must overcome. October 2012.
Click HERE to read the story on The Genteel.
________________________________________________________
Amidst the busy, noisy streets of Jakarta, is an established hub for high fashion. Prada and Gucci boutiques can be found in the city's shopping centres and Jakarta Fashion Week continues to grow along with established Indonesian designers such as Biyan and Tex Saverio, who dressed Lady Gaga in one of his gowns for Harper's Bazaar's May issue.
But, high fashion is just one facet of Indonesia's growing fashion industry. High fashion often comes at equally high prices, and new designers are hungry to market creations that the younger generation can afford. One of the independent designers responding is Istituto Marangoni graduate, Nikeeta Lakhiani, 25. Lakhiani's strategy is to start small, then branch out if she has success locally. "The street style scene is a relatively new phenomenon here," she says. "There's still so much potential for growth because the younger demographic is very hungry for fast fashion: wanting to look stylish but not having to pay so much."
In her modest studio, she sketches ideas for her brand, Nikoo. Apart from receiving orders online through her website, and using social networking to promote the brand, Nikoo is run on a consignment basis with boutiques. Lakhiani also joins trade shows in Jakarta and surrounding cities which draw at least 50,000 shoppers. "Word gets around," says the young designer, "It's usually the best way to get acquainted with boutique owners that might be interested to stock our label."
While there's a gap in fashion for Jakarta's younger generation, emerging designers in other cities face very different obstacles. Across the world, almost 10,000 miles from Jakarta, Toronto is home to some of today's best Canadian designers. Arguably the country's fashion headquarters, Toronto boasts the flagship of luxury retailer Holt Renfrew and has produced well-known labels like Greta Constantine, whose fans include supermodel, Coco Rocha. With a well-established fashion scene, the city also houses most of Canada's fashion schools, producing young graduates every year hungry to make a name for themselves.
Not surprisingly, competition is cut-throat and garnering success isn't so much about filling a gap, as it is about being able to break from the pack. "You have to show you are somehow unique and you have to establish a following - something about what you do isn't following what others do," says Marilyn McNeil-Morin, the Chair of the School of Fashion Studies at George Brown College in Toronto. In addition to having well-rounded knowledge about the business aspects of the market, she says it is also important to be realistic about expectations. While many up-and-coming designers may be talented at creating what they want to wear, it's not necessarily the market new designers ought to join. "The real market is finding a population bulge. [At the moment] It's the baby boomer generation," she says. "Club-wear is great to design, but who's got money to spend?" Although this may not echo the ideals of glamourous, high fashion runways, there are more opportunities in creating "real" clothes for "real" people.
Maybe they're the illustrator, or quality control, or in sourcing. They play a role and find their fit. That's more realistic and where a lot of our students end up. Even then, finding a gap in the industry in a city like Toronto, can be difficult, especially since it sees thousands of graduates a year. The reality is, many of the fresh faces settle down in roles designing mainstream fashion, but not necessarily ones where their name is on the label. "Students will learn they're fantastic with something like pattern drafting," says McNeil-Morin. "They're learning what they love to do. Maybe they're the illustrator, or quality control, or in sourcing. They play a role and find their fit. That's more realistic and where a lot of our students end up."
But, that's not to say there isn't room for designers who are able to put forth their creative energy, are business savvy and, on top of that, are able to make inroads into the industry.
Sarah Stevenson started her line in 2010 after completing a Masters in Fashion and Textile Design at the European Institute of Design in Milan. Based in Toronto, she distinguishes herself by creating her own prints - a style of wearable art that doesn't just work for the catwalk, but on the street as well. "All of the prints are my own artwork," she says. "I create mostly by hand, using mixed media, watercolour, acrylic, ink and photography." Using digital printing, Stevenson then prints her works onto fabric. What started on canvas has quickly become an aesthetic Stevenson can call purely her own. As a result, she has an impressive array of accomplishments under her belt; Stevenson has shown at Toronto Fashion Week in the past few years, designed a dress in collaboration with Barbie, a tutu for the National Ballet of Canada, and has had her designs featured in FASHION and Flare magazines. Despite these successes, the young designer says she has a long road ahead, citing that she is still seeking much-needed support from investors or retailers in order to truly expand her business.
Much of the hardship may lie in the fact that many designers find their fame in established fashion meccas. "Sadly, I think [being in Toronto] is a roadblock," says Stevenson. She notes there aren't Canadian equivalents to organisations like the Council of Fashion Designers of America and the British Fashion Council, which promote and sponsor talent to not only show at fashion week events, but to travel and meet with buyers across the globe. "You can have an amazing product, but if you don't have the money to promote it, it will never be seen."
Success is also relative to market size. A designer in a smaller market has more chance of being noticed, says McNeil-Morin. But it can also be a disadvantage, as making important connections is more difficult. "That's what happens with Canadian designers. It's hard to become bigger. To be carried across the border." McNeil-Morin notes designers like DSquared2 and Mark Fast, who started their careers in Toronto and have uprooted to major fashion ports in Europe. They're examples of designers who had the creative skills, but also knew the right people and were in the right place at the right time - a formula that designers themselves can't completely control. "It doesn't guarantee success to leave," she elaborates, "We have designers that have come back, or not necessarily succeeded in those markets. A lot of things have to fall into place."
Lakhiani also admits that being in Jakarta, instead of a mainstream fashion hub, makes it harder to approach the international market. She says it would be easier being based in Hong Kong, or even in Australia, as they experience more foreign traffic and are well-established economically. For the same reasons, Jakarta has its benefits; there are plenty of garment factories and labour is cheaper than in bigger cities, so it is far less financially draining for emerging designers looking to translate their sketches into wearable styles. As well as two online stores, Nikoo is now carried in one boutique shop in Jakarta and two in Bandung, Indonesia.
There doesn't seem to be a steadfast equation any one designer can follow to become a mainstay on the scene. What has emerged amidst the noise, is that there are two forces at play, believes McNeil-Morin. From the top down, people create fashion from inspiration that eventually makes its way to the street. And now, more so than ever, from the bottom up, people on the street are starting to dictate trends as well. The two meet in the middle and more often than not, they inspire each other. Once emerging designers begin to understand and navigate this changing landscape, the more they may be able to make a lasting impression on it.
Click HERE to read the story on The Genteel.
________________________________________________________
Amidst the busy, noisy streets of Jakarta, is an established hub for high fashion. Prada and Gucci boutiques can be found in the city's shopping centres and Jakarta Fashion Week continues to grow along with established Indonesian designers such as Biyan and Tex Saverio, who dressed Lady Gaga in one of his gowns for Harper's Bazaar's May issue.
But, high fashion is just one facet of Indonesia's growing fashion industry. High fashion often comes at equally high prices, and new designers are hungry to market creations that the younger generation can afford. One of the independent designers responding is Istituto Marangoni graduate, Nikeeta Lakhiani, 25. Lakhiani's strategy is to start small, then branch out if she has success locally. "The street style scene is a relatively new phenomenon here," she says. "There's still so much potential for growth because the younger demographic is very hungry for fast fashion: wanting to look stylish but not having to pay so much."
In her modest studio, she sketches ideas for her brand, Nikoo. Apart from receiving orders online through her website, and using social networking to promote the brand, Nikoo is run on a consignment basis with boutiques. Lakhiani also joins trade shows in Jakarta and surrounding cities which draw at least 50,000 shoppers. "Word gets around," says the young designer, "It's usually the best way to get acquainted with boutique owners that might be interested to stock our label."
While there's a gap in fashion for Jakarta's younger generation, emerging designers in other cities face very different obstacles. Across the world, almost 10,000 miles from Jakarta, Toronto is home to some of today's best Canadian designers. Arguably the country's fashion headquarters, Toronto boasts the flagship of luxury retailer Holt Renfrew and has produced well-known labels like Greta Constantine, whose fans include supermodel, Coco Rocha. With a well-established fashion scene, the city also houses most of Canada's fashion schools, producing young graduates every year hungry to make a name for themselves.
Not surprisingly, competition is cut-throat and garnering success isn't so much about filling a gap, as it is about being able to break from the pack. "You have to show you are somehow unique and you have to establish a following - something about what you do isn't following what others do," says Marilyn McNeil-Morin, the Chair of the School of Fashion Studies at George Brown College in Toronto. In addition to having well-rounded knowledge about the business aspects of the market, she says it is also important to be realistic about expectations. While many up-and-coming designers may be talented at creating what they want to wear, it's not necessarily the market new designers ought to join. "The real market is finding a population bulge. [At the moment] It's the baby boomer generation," she says. "Club-wear is great to design, but who's got money to spend?" Although this may not echo the ideals of glamourous, high fashion runways, there are more opportunities in creating "real" clothes for "real" people.
Maybe they're the illustrator, or quality control, or in sourcing. They play a role and find their fit. That's more realistic and where a lot of our students end up. Even then, finding a gap in the industry in a city like Toronto, can be difficult, especially since it sees thousands of graduates a year. The reality is, many of the fresh faces settle down in roles designing mainstream fashion, but not necessarily ones where their name is on the label. "Students will learn they're fantastic with something like pattern drafting," says McNeil-Morin. "They're learning what they love to do. Maybe they're the illustrator, or quality control, or in sourcing. They play a role and find their fit. That's more realistic and where a lot of our students end up."
But, that's not to say there isn't room for designers who are able to put forth their creative energy, are business savvy and, on top of that, are able to make inroads into the industry.
Sarah Stevenson started her line in 2010 after completing a Masters in Fashion and Textile Design at the European Institute of Design in Milan. Based in Toronto, she distinguishes herself by creating her own prints - a style of wearable art that doesn't just work for the catwalk, but on the street as well. "All of the prints are my own artwork," she says. "I create mostly by hand, using mixed media, watercolour, acrylic, ink and photography." Using digital printing, Stevenson then prints her works onto fabric. What started on canvas has quickly become an aesthetic Stevenson can call purely her own. As a result, she has an impressive array of accomplishments under her belt; Stevenson has shown at Toronto Fashion Week in the past few years, designed a dress in collaboration with Barbie, a tutu for the National Ballet of Canada, and has had her designs featured in FASHION and Flare magazines. Despite these successes, the young designer says she has a long road ahead, citing that she is still seeking much-needed support from investors or retailers in order to truly expand her business.
Much of the hardship may lie in the fact that many designers find their fame in established fashion meccas. "Sadly, I think [being in Toronto] is a roadblock," says Stevenson. She notes there aren't Canadian equivalents to organisations like the Council of Fashion Designers of America and the British Fashion Council, which promote and sponsor talent to not only show at fashion week events, but to travel and meet with buyers across the globe. "You can have an amazing product, but if you don't have the money to promote it, it will never be seen."
Success is also relative to market size. A designer in a smaller market has more chance of being noticed, says McNeil-Morin. But it can also be a disadvantage, as making important connections is more difficult. "That's what happens with Canadian designers. It's hard to become bigger. To be carried across the border." McNeil-Morin notes designers like DSquared2 and Mark Fast, who started their careers in Toronto and have uprooted to major fashion ports in Europe. They're examples of designers who had the creative skills, but also knew the right people and were in the right place at the right time - a formula that designers themselves can't completely control. "It doesn't guarantee success to leave," she elaborates, "We have designers that have come back, or not necessarily succeeded in those markets. A lot of things have to fall into place."
Lakhiani also admits that being in Jakarta, instead of a mainstream fashion hub, makes it harder to approach the international market. She says it would be easier being based in Hong Kong, or even in Australia, as they experience more foreign traffic and are well-established economically. For the same reasons, Jakarta has its benefits; there are plenty of garment factories and labour is cheaper than in bigger cities, so it is far less financially draining for emerging designers looking to translate their sketches into wearable styles. As well as two online stores, Nikoo is now carried in one boutique shop in Jakarta and two in Bandung, Indonesia.
There doesn't seem to be a steadfast equation any one designer can follow to become a mainstay on the scene. What has emerged amidst the noise, is that there are two forces at play, believes McNeil-Morin. From the top down, people create fashion from inspiration that eventually makes its way to the street. And now, more so than ever, from the bottom up, people on the street are starting to dictate trends as well. The two meet in the middle and more often than not, they inspire each other. Once emerging designers begin to understand and navigate this changing landscape, the more they may be able to make a lasting impression on it.
Guiliana Coen Camerino: Turning Fashion into Artistry
For decades, Giuliana Coen Camerino's groundbreaking handbags had been off the collective fashion conscience. But in the late nineties, the bags experienced a resurgence within the fashion world. Today, the brand that took the handbag from utility to artistry is once again doing what it does best. Lisa Xing speaks with Coen Camerino's daughter, Roberta, and the brand's CEO, Ercole de Cesare. September 2012.
Click HERE to read the story on The Genteel.
Click HERE to read the story on The Genteel.
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High fashion brings to mind opulence, glamour and lavish billows of rich fabrics and décor - from shop windows on Fifth Avenue to the runways of Paris. But the story of the Roberta di Camerino brand is rooted in the struggles of a monumental time in history. Despite these circumstances, through the decades, Roberta di Camerino blossomed into a prestigious fashion house, whilst also putting the international fashion spotlight on Venice.
It is a timeless saying that the best inventions come from necessity, and although the brand's founder, Giuliana Coen Camerino, wasn't responsible for inventing the handbag, the Venetian-Jewish fashion icon certainly played a vital role in its modern reinvention.
Giuliana Coen Camerino with one of her designs. Photograph courtesy of Roberta Camerino.
Coen Camerino was forced to flee Mussolini's Italy in 1943 with her husband, settling in Lugano, Switzerland as a refugee. When she couldn't afford to buy a new purse, Coen Camerino sewed herself a leather handbag. A Swiss woman on the street liked it so much, she bought it there and then - directly off the young designer's shoulder.
When the war ended, the future businesswoman returned to the Venice she loved and began building her empire. She named it after the 1935 Fred Astaire musical, Roberta; "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" from the production was the last song she danced to before fleeing her native country - an ode to memories of happier times.
Thus began a complete reinvention of the handbag - at a time when most designers only crafted them in brown or black leather, Coen Camerino's designs were a total aberration. She didn't use traditional colour palettes (to say the least); her purses featured graphic patterns, cloth and brass buckles, using rich fabrics that were - up until that point - most commonly seen in clothing.
These designs arguably launched the handbag from a mere utility object to a status symbol and fashion staple - the classic Bagonghi bag rested on the arms of some of the most iconic figures of the 1950s, including Grace Kelly. These were the first designer bags; Coen Camerino had brought colour back to postwar Italy.
"I was lucky to know Ms. Giuliana in the last two years before she passed away," says Ercole de Cesare, CEO of Roberta di Camerino, from the brand's headquarters in Milan. "She was an unbelievable woman. When I knew her, she was around the age of 80, but was always thinking about the future to develop the brand. To me, it was amazing the energy and power she had at the end of her life," he continues.
[Giuliana Coen Camerino] was an unbelievable woman. When I knew her, she was around the age of 80, but was always thinking about the future to develop the brand. To me, it was amazing the energy and power she had at the end of her life. De Cesare recalls sitting in meetings with the entrepreneur and being astounded at the progressive ideas Coen Camerino brought to the table during his first few months with the company. "We were studying the new website and she proposed a fashion show on YouTube. I was thinking - she's 80 years old and thinking about this. She's amazing."
The designer's daughter, Roberta Camerino, says her mother's success can be attributed to a few main attributes: "She was a good businesswoman. She worked full time, and for long, until she died. She loved her work."
Without the artistic direction of the designer herself, de Cesare says it took the company a bit of time following its founder's death (in 2010 at age 89) to hone the vision and next steps for the brand. "At the beginning, it was very complicated to think about the future because she always had very good ideas, innovative ideas."
With a classic statement design steeped in history, decision-makers at Roberta di Camerino realised that to continue being successful, they needed to go back to their heritage. The most distinguishable features of the handbags - the use of bright colours, rich textures and distinct shapes - were, after all, original ideas introduced by the brand.
The iconic branding and designs that made the brand so successful in the first place are back at the core of its current success. "When you see a lady on the street wearing this little bag, they can immediately be recognised a Roberta di Camerino bag. They are iconic products," says de Cesare. The lattice of monogrammed R's adorned her collections in the 1940s whilst woven leather was introduced in the '50s. The purses signed off with bright, clean patterns, purses with flaps and were constructed in the well-known doctor's "medicine bag" shape. Subconsciously or not, Coen Camerino influenced other designers, like Gucci, Bottega Veneta and Prada, to create pieces that would go on to become known as their "signature" designs.
Borsa Bagonghi Purse.
Photograph courtesy of Roberta Camerino. Although the brand continues to sell accessories such as scarves and wallets, it is best known for its innovation in handbag design. The leather-crafted, brightly coloured bags grace the displays of 100 shops around the globe, bringing in about €2m in revenue worldwide, according to the company's CEO. The company still keeps to its age-old business model - less about commercial distribution, and instead, chooses to keep business at "eye level," says de Cesare, "It isn't a commercial brand." For purses that average between €500-1,500, it's a concept that is sustainable as they serve clientele ranging from boutiques in Tokyo to Barneys New York.
The company even creates couture pieces using materials such as velvet from their archives - materials that aren't reproducible today. As a result, vintage Roberto di Camerinos are coveted heirlooms. Designers like Anna Sui are avid collectors and Madonna was seen carrying around her Caravel in the 2000s. The Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology displayed them at the turn of the millennium, while a little closer to home and shortly after her death, Trieste's Museo Revoltella paid tribute to the "Signora of fashion" with an exhibition dedicated to the brand and its history.
Roberta Camerino told The Genteel that her mother was most fondly revered and remembered after her death. "It's always the case. It's not easy to remember people when they're alive. When she died, [Venice] did a special celebration for her." Fitting, considering how Roberta Camerino describes her mother's signature purses: "All her life, all her designs are full of Venice."
These were the first designer bags; Camerino had brought colour back to postwar Italy. Italy has exported some of the world's best-loved labels, but few are from Venice; of them Roberta di Camerino is one of the most successful. Save for Pierre Cardin (who moved to France from his native Venice at age two, and who also recently received rounds of dissension for his proposal of a glass addition to the Venetian skyline), the Roberta di Camerino brand has become a metonym for the decadent, gilded opulence of Venice, whose image has been reinforced and highlighted by hosting the world's oldest, and one of the most prestigious film festivals.
De Cesare attributes much of the ideas of the label's founder to this very fact. "She had a very strong personality that, in some part, came from the city. The city is one of the most beautiful cities in the world and is very particular. It helped her develop her style." Her daughter echoes that sentiment, saying her mother's signature pieces and personality are inextricably linked. "She was the first that designed bags in colour. She was the first to [use] the trompe l'oeil design. I can tell you thousands of things she did. My mother was also a very particular woman. Full of life. She was full of personality and full of ideas."
It was Coen Camerino's ideas that captured the attention and admiration of her contemporaries, such as Coco Chanel. But, it is perhaps the artist, and Coen Camerino's dear friend, Salvador Dali who described her best: she first conveyed art into fashion. At the very least, the Signora was a woman who dared to challenge conventionality, and succeeded in turning utility into artistry.
High fashion brings to mind opulence, glamour and lavish billows of rich fabrics and décor - from shop windows on Fifth Avenue to the runways of Paris. But the story of the Roberta di Camerino brand is rooted in the struggles of a monumental time in history. Despite these circumstances, through the decades, Roberta di Camerino blossomed into a prestigious fashion house, whilst also putting the international fashion spotlight on Venice.
It is a timeless saying that the best inventions come from necessity, and although the brand's founder, Giuliana Coen Camerino, wasn't responsible for inventing the handbag, the Venetian-Jewish fashion icon certainly played a vital role in its modern reinvention.
Giuliana Coen Camerino with one of her designs. Photograph courtesy of Roberta Camerino.
Coen Camerino was forced to flee Mussolini's Italy in 1943 with her husband, settling in Lugano, Switzerland as a refugee. When she couldn't afford to buy a new purse, Coen Camerino sewed herself a leather handbag. A Swiss woman on the street liked it so much, she bought it there and then - directly off the young designer's shoulder.
When the war ended, the future businesswoman returned to the Venice she loved and began building her empire. She named it after the 1935 Fred Astaire musical, Roberta; "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" from the production was the last song she danced to before fleeing her native country - an ode to memories of happier times.
Thus began a complete reinvention of the handbag - at a time when most designers only crafted them in brown or black leather, Coen Camerino's designs were a total aberration. She didn't use traditional colour palettes (to say the least); her purses featured graphic patterns, cloth and brass buckles, using rich fabrics that were - up until that point - most commonly seen in clothing.
These designs arguably launched the handbag from a mere utility object to a status symbol and fashion staple - the classic Bagonghi bag rested on the arms of some of the most iconic figures of the 1950s, including Grace Kelly. These were the first designer bags; Coen Camerino had brought colour back to postwar Italy.
"I was lucky to know Ms. Giuliana in the last two years before she passed away," says Ercole de Cesare, CEO of Roberta di Camerino, from the brand's headquarters in Milan. "She was an unbelievable woman. When I knew her, she was around the age of 80, but was always thinking about the future to develop the brand. To me, it was amazing the energy and power she had at the end of her life," he continues.
[Giuliana Coen Camerino] was an unbelievable woman. When I knew her, she was around the age of 80, but was always thinking about the future to develop the brand. To me, it was amazing the energy and power she had at the end of her life. De Cesare recalls sitting in meetings with the entrepreneur and being astounded at the progressive ideas Coen Camerino brought to the table during his first few months with the company. "We were studying the new website and she proposed a fashion show on YouTube. I was thinking - she's 80 years old and thinking about this. She's amazing."
The designer's daughter, Roberta Camerino, says her mother's success can be attributed to a few main attributes: "She was a good businesswoman. She worked full time, and for long, until she died. She loved her work."
Without the artistic direction of the designer herself, de Cesare says it took the company a bit of time following its founder's death (in 2010 at age 89) to hone the vision and next steps for the brand. "At the beginning, it was very complicated to think about the future because she always had very good ideas, innovative ideas."
With a classic statement design steeped in history, decision-makers at Roberta di Camerino realised that to continue being successful, they needed to go back to their heritage. The most distinguishable features of the handbags - the use of bright colours, rich textures and distinct shapes - were, after all, original ideas introduced by the brand.
The iconic branding and designs that made the brand so successful in the first place are back at the core of its current success. "When you see a lady on the street wearing this little bag, they can immediately be recognised a Roberta di Camerino bag. They are iconic products," says de Cesare. The lattice of monogrammed R's adorned her collections in the 1940s whilst woven leather was introduced in the '50s. The purses signed off with bright, clean patterns, purses with flaps and were constructed in the well-known doctor's "medicine bag" shape. Subconsciously or not, Coen Camerino influenced other designers, like Gucci, Bottega Veneta and Prada, to create pieces that would go on to become known as their "signature" designs.
Borsa Bagonghi Purse.
Photograph courtesy of Roberta Camerino. Although the brand continues to sell accessories such as scarves and wallets, it is best known for its innovation in handbag design. The leather-crafted, brightly coloured bags grace the displays of 100 shops around the globe, bringing in about €2m in revenue worldwide, according to the company's CEO. The company still keeps to its age-old business model - less about commercial distribution, and instead, chooses to keep business at "eye level," says de Cesare, "It isn't a commercial brand." For purses that average between €500-1,500, it's a concept that is sustainable as they serve clientele ranging from boutiques in Tokyo to Barneys New York.
The company even creates couture pieces using materials such as velvet from their archives - materials that aren't reproducible today. As a result, vintage Roberto di Camerinos are coveted heirlooms. Designers like Anna Sui are avid collectors and Madonna was seen carrying around her Caravel in the 2000s. The Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology displayed them at the turn of the millennium, while a little closer to home and shortly after her death, Trieste's Museo Revoltella paid tribute to the "Signora of fashion" with an exhibition dedicated to the brand and its history.
Roberta Camerino told The Genteel that her mother was most fondly revered and remembered after her death. "It's always the case. It's not easy to remember people when they're alive. When she died, [Venice] did a special celebration for her." Fitting, considering how Roberta Camerino describes her mother's signature purses: "All her life, all her designs are full of Venice."
These were the first designer bags; Camerino had brought colour back to postwar Italy. Italy has exported some of the world's best-loved labels, but few are from Venice; of them Roberta di Camerino is one of the most successful. Save for Pierre Cardin (who moved to France from his native Venice at age two, and who also recently received rounds of dissension for his proposal of a glass addition to the Venetian skyline), the Roberta di Camerino brand has become a metonym for the decadent, gilded opulence of Venice, whose image has been reinforced and highlighted by hosting the world's oldest, and one of the most prestigious film festivals.
De Cesare attributes much of the ideas of the label's founder to this very fact. "She had a very strong personality that, in some part, came from the city. The city is one of the most beautiful cities in the world and is very particular. It helped her develop her style." Her daughter echoes that sentiment, saying her mother's signature pieces and personality are inextricably linked. "She was the first that designed bags in colour. She was the first to [use] the trompe l'oeil design. I can tell you thousands of things she did. My mother was also a very particular woman. Full of life. She was full of personality and full of ideas."
It was Coen Camerino's ideas that captured the attention and admiration of her contemporaries, such as Coco Chanel. But, it is perhaps the artist, and Coen Camerino's dear friend, Salvador Dali who described her best: she first conveyed art into fashion. At the very least, the Signora was a woman who dared to challenge conventionality, and succeeded in turning utility into artistry.
