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One of the most progressive trends emerging
in today's Design world is the new generation of exceptionally talented
Asian Americans in the Fashion world. 太太
applauds and supports their efforts.
Congratulations to those who have made it to the pinnacle and inspiration to
those who are still 'in training'. All the best. With
determination, hard work + good funding, anything is possible.
China is also emerging as a strong retail centre for many of the world's top
designers. Yeah! - 太太
A Design Generation Rising
From 
>> WSJ
Slideshow
In "The September Issue," the
recent documentary film on Vogue, the designer with the most screen time is
Thakoon Panichgul, a 34-year-old American who was born in Thailand.
He is just one of a growing number of young
Asian-American fashion designers who command growing clout in the fashion
world. Jason Wu, a 26-year-old of Taiwanese descent, skyrocketed to fame after
the First Lady wore his dress to Inaugural Night balls. Gap has tapped
Asian-American designer labels Doo.Ri, Phillip Lim and Alexander Wang, as well
as Mr. Panichgul, to design collections over the past three years. At New York
Fashion Week, which begins today, 25 Asian-American fashion designers plan to
hold shows or presentations, nearly double the number five years ago,
according to the Fashion Calendar, an industry newsletter that lists fashion
shows and events.
To explain the sharp increase in their
numbers, many young Asian-American designers point to a cultural shift within
their communities that has liberated them from traditional career
expectations.
A
Bold Expansion for Derek Lam
Asian-Americans in their 20s and 30s were
part of an immigration boom. The passage of the Immigration Act of 1965
effectively ended policies that put quotas on the numbers and origins of
Asians allowed in the country. Once they arrived, the children of this wave of
Asian immigrants generally didn't feel as much parental pressure as previous
generations to excel in more-traditional fields such as business or
science—in part because the previous wave of immigrants had proven
themselves in those fields.
"I lucked out. A lot of my cousins,
God bless them, they are doctors, in science or in business," says
38-year-old fashion designer Peter Som, who is of Chinese descent.
Today's Asian-American designers also say
relatives their own age who weren't born in America faced more traditional
career expectations. Jason Wu notes that his older brother, who chose to study
business, had more years of schooling in Taiwan than he did.
A New American Dream
"These Asian-American parents look
around and realize the American dream can be realized in other ways,"
says Frank H. Wu, author of the book "Yellow: Race in America Beyond
Black and White," published in 2001. "They also realize their
children are assimilated and don't face all the barriers that they might have
faced when they first came here."
Of course, some Asian-American designers
had parents who were adamant in their expectations of traditional success.
Phillip Lim, the 36-year-old Thailand-born designer who started a women's
fashion line in 2005, didn't tell his parents before he switched majors in
college from business to home economics and fashion merchandising.
He says his mother and father, a seamstress
and a professional poker player, respectively, expressed disappointment.
"They said, 'We worked so hard. We brought you here. Why would you do
that? No one looks up at us, we are the lowest class.' The whole guilt
trip," says Mr. Lim, whose first men's fashion presentation will be
tomorrow. "But that wasn't going to stop me from doing what I wanted to
do."
Similarly, Mr. Panichgul ended up getting a
business degree from Boston University to please his mother, who wanted him to
pursue "more lucrative jobs like business or law or being a doctor."
He didn't tell her that he wanted to be a fashion designer until he launched
his line in 2004. He had, unbeknownst to her, quit his job as a writer for
Harper's Bazaar to work on setting up the line. "She couldn't stop it
after that," he says. "It's a rebelling. Our generation kind of went
the opposite direction of what our parents wanted us to do."
A Relaxation of Pressure
Derek Lam had just crossed the line of
high-fashion stardom -- and profitability -- when the global economic meltdown
unfolded. WSJ's Vanessa O'Connell speaks to the designer about how his
business has adapted to the current economy
In some cases, designers say it was enough
for their parents if just some of their children pursued traditional paths.
Richard Chai's sister is a business executive. Korea-born Doo-Ri Chung, whose
line is Doo.Ri, says her brother is an investment banker.
Indeed, business success in the family
could be helpful. Ms. Chung's brother has helped her with money, as well as
business plans. Jason Wu started his label in 2006 with money from his family.
Asia's reputation as a
clothing-manufacturing hub plays a smaller role in the rise of Asian-American
designers than some might think. With a few exceptions, these designers didn't
come from families that worked in textiles or clothing manufacturing.
Today's Asian-American designers don't wear
their "otherness" on their sleeves as did the wave of Japanese
designers like Issey Miyake and Yohji Yamamoto, who took the fashion world by
storm in the '80s with avant-garde designs. Many young Asian-American
designers' clothes, such as Jason Wu's blend of modernity with the intricacy
of couture and Phillip Lim's modern takes on classic looks, are generally
aimed at a broad mainstream audience.
"We are all so different with so many
different backgrounds," says Derek Lam, 43, one of the few Asian-American
star designers whose family was involved in the clothing-manufacturing
business. Though he grew up around that, he went to college to study English
and says his decision to become a fashion designer stemmed more from his
desire to do something artistic than from roots in the family business.
One factor helped ease the way: In many
Asian families, the fine arts have long been encouraged as a disciplined hobby
for children. With the mainstream success of Asian classical musicians,
architects and filmmakers, the arts have become an increasingly viable career
choice. Fashion has come to be seen as a legitimate extension of the arts,
especially because of design's emphasis on drawing and sketching.
Some designers say their parents were
supportive of their choice to study fashion design so long as they went to
what they considered the best schools for that field and excelled at their
studies.
"Their attitude was if you want to do
art or fashion, be at the best school," says designer Richard Chai, who
grew up in New Jersey and attended Parsons the New School for Design.
Many of his peers, too, took summer classes
at Parsons and the Fashion Institute of Technology while still in junior-high
and high school, and then went on to apprentice under famous fashion
designers, giving them skills and boldface names in their portfolio. Mr. Chai
worked as a sketcher for Lanvin, a designer for DKNY and a design director for
Marc Jacobs. Mr. Som worked under Michael Kors and Calvin Klein. Mr. Wu
interned for Narciso Rodriguez. Ms. Chung worked under Geoffrey Beene.
Fashion schools have witnessed an influx of
Asian-American students. Between 1998 and 2008, Parsons says, Asian-Americans
were its fastest-growing ethnic group, more than tripling in number. At
Parsons, "there were tons of Asians when I was there," says Mr. Som.
By contrast, Anna
Sui, who launched her
line in 1981, making her part of an earlier generation of Asian-American
designers, says, "when I went to [Parsons], maybe there was one other
Asian student, in the year before me."
Simon Collins, dean of fashion at Parsons,
says the school didn't have to do any special outreach to Asian-Americans.
"We didn't have problems finding Asian-American students," he says.
'Talent and Work Ethic'
Joanne Arbuckle, dean of the school of art
and design at the Fashion Institute of Technology, says that while she doesn't
like to generalize, she finds that students of Asian descent "come to the
table with two things: talent and work ethic."
Ms. Arbuckle says that during her 10 years
of teaching in the fashion-design department, she found the drive of Asian
students "noticeable." She also said some had strong math and
engineering backgrounds, "which is a tremendous benefit to being a
designer." Those students viewed design almost like solving a problem,
she says: "It's right or it's wrong and they never gave up until it was
really right."
Though Asian-American designers want to be
looked at more for their individual work than for their common background, a
number of them do admit to a sense of pride. Says veteran designer Vera Wang,
"It is kind of a wonderful phenomenon."
- 2009 September 9 WALL
ST JOURNAL
MORE
PRESS:
You'd be hard pressed to find a more
label-conscious society than Hong Kong, where you can instantly identify a
woman's place in the social pecking order by the bag on her arm. Leather bags
by Louis Vuitton, Ferragamo, Gucci, and Hermes have long been a staple for
Hong Kong's 太太
"tai tais" [aka Ladies of Leisure] and Canto starlets, and
more recently mainland Chinese tourists have been making a bee-line for these
luxury houses during shopping sprees to the city. Culturally 太太's
also seem well educated in jewellry.
 
FASHION TRENDS &
SHOPPING
Lirical Jewellry is 太太
's latest find in her travels for new talent. Architect
Brenda Wong has turned her design eye to fine jewellry at excellent
prices. A gallery in Ottawa Canada is carrying her works.
ROME - Many people think of Italians as free and
easygoing people unbound by rules and hang-ups. This is true of things like
traffic lights where red simply means slow down and take a look before racing
through the intersection. And it's true of riding the buses and trams where
it's considered a waste of money to buy a ticket when the officials hardly
ever check to see if you have one. But it's not true when it comes to certain
cultural traditions such as eating, drinking and even shopping.
Shopping is a deceptively simple activity. Most of us think we know how to
do it. But shopping in Rome can leave even the most confident card-carrying
Saks Fifth Avenue patron in a state of confused uncertainty.
People coming from North America, the land where the customer is king and
where the customer is always right, are frequently surprised to learn that in
Rome the customer is not only wrong but is frequently a dishonest idiot as
well.
"The Americans like to touch everything," says a clerk in an
Armani Jeans store. "They pick up everything and they do this," she
says, scurrying around rubbing the cloth of several sweaters and blouses
between her fingers in a show of great disgust.
During the summer months when the city hosts thousands and thousands of
tourists from afar, the clerks spend most of their working day trying to save
their beautiful displays of perfectly folded T-shirts and sweaters from being
ransacked by undisciplined shoppers. It sometimes seems as if the customers
are the greatest obstacle to the clerks getting their job done.
Most of these culture clashes begin because we don't understand the Italian
way of shopping. But all the shops -- from the vegetable market to the
drugstore -- have traditionally been run on a don't-touch basis. The correct
way to handle this situation is to ask the clerk to show you the sweaters, the
broccoli or the toilet paper. This is changing somewhat because of the
pressure from foreigners and is causing great confusion among Italian shoppers
who no longer know when to touch and when not to touch. It is also creating a
generation of resentful clerks who realize they are expected to tidy up.
One recent warm November afternoon, I accompanied a friend, Julia, visiting
from Toronto, on a shopping trip. In one clothing store near Campo de' Fiori,
Julia asked to try on a black lacy top. In Italy, it is important to be sure
everything fits and that it is in good condition before you buy it because
stores will never accept returns -- under any circumstances. "You cannot
try it," says the sales clerk standing in front of the curtained dressing
room. "You can only try on pants or skirts." And then he performed
an elaborate pantomime of putting on lipstick and mascara to illustrate his
reasoning.
Fresh-faced, clean-scrubbed Julia told him that she wouldn't buy the top if
she couldn't try it on. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say it was her
loss.
We moved on to the carnivalesque atmosphere of shops on and around Via Del
Corso that run from high-end Furla leather handbags to low-end plastic shoes.
We walked into one shop empty of other customers and found the sales clerk
reading a magazine and chain-smoking. Since she didn't look up when we came in
or respond to our "buongiorno," we figured it was safe to paw the
merchandise. Julia found a skirt and sweater she wanted to try on. She
apologized to the clerk for not speaking Italian and then asked her if she
spoke French or English. The clerk simply stared at her. So Julia pointed to
the dressing room and held up her potential purchases. The clerk still stared.
Finally, I asked in Italian if she could try them on. The clerk shrugged and
went back to her magazine.
We soon learned to ignore the sales clerks and do as we pleased, which left
some of them happily engaged in conversation and oblivious to us, and others
in a frenzy of disapproval as they followed us around refolding sweaters. And
then we decided to add some variety and we went into a pharmacy to look for
European shampoos and skin creams. We were met by a woman in a white lab coat
who asked us many questions and then brought jars of face cream out one at a
time from a locked cupboard behind a counter.
There were little displays of Band-Aids, diapers and diet milkshake drinks
to indicate the range of products the pharmacy had for sale, but if you wanted
to buy anything, you had to ask for it. We left empty-handed and frustrated at
not being able to see the full stock.
While still on Via Del Corso, Julia made an impulsive decision to look at
the clothes in a shop called Killah. Inside, there was a plastic floor with
lights underneath, three video screens showing a cartoon subtitled in Swedish
and blasting American rap music. The two young sales girls were dancing
together and singing along to the music happily shouting out the chorus in
their Italian accented English: "Why don't you f--- off, and f---in' die
and f---in' kill you-self."
As improbable as it seemed, Julia spotted quite a nice black dress among
the highly revealing little skirts and tops that were mostly emblazoned with
nostalgic images of childhood, like cartoon kittens and little ducks.
Frederica, one of the singing sales clerks, was happy to help with the size.
She pronounced Julia a babe in the dress and insisted she buy it, and she did.
While the second clerk wrapped up the dress and ran it through on Julia's
Visa card, they both entertained us with their linguistic abilities. Their
English was fairly limited to sizes and prices and the lyrics of American pop
songs, but in French they knew how to say "My name is," "How
are you?" and "You are a slut."
Julia signed her Visa slip, advised the girls that it was really better not
to swear in a foreign language, and we left. Later, she found a tiny pair of
purple jeans fit for a child or an anorexic teenager in the bag with the dress
and discovered that they had been added to her bill.
We returned to Killah the next day with the bill and the purple jeans. Both
sales girls remembered us and remembered the dress and they agreed it was
rather unlikely that Julia would have wanted size-two purple pants. They
agreed that it was clearly an accident but they explained it was impossible to
return them. Once they were paid for they were hers. "You should have
been watching me more carefully," said one.
As a generous offer, one she knew she was not really obliged to make, the
sales clerk told Julia that she could exchange them for something else. Julia
looked around at the pink miniskirts and the tiny orange sweaters and restated
that this was not her mistake. She asked again to have her money back.
After a tense phone call to the boss, one clerk reached into the cash
register, pulled out some bills and pressed them on Julia. Then she shoved us
angrily out the door.
I recounted this story later to a friendly saleswoman in a chic little
boutique in Trastevere. She was busily pulling dresses off the rack for me to
look at and displaying jackets she thought I might like. I kept my hands to
myself, trying to prove that I am not a barbarian. The saleswoman was shocked
that we insisted on returning the pants. She said she would never have
refunded the money. "Your friend should have checked her bill, she should
have looked in her bag," she said, explaining that everyone in Italy
knows that you check the bill and count your change before you leave the
store. You don't go back later to sort out your mistakes. "You expect too
much." - by Jeannie Marshall
NATIONAL
POST 4 Dec 2002
SPORTS
FASHION
Luxury companies are getting
into Sports Fashion in a big way. Desginers have jumped in on the sports
bandwagon with progressive technically advanced fashions. Some
highlights:
- Prada entered the Louis
Vuitton Cup sailing in red and silver Prada Sport ensemble, a lighter,
breathable version of sailing gear
- Asprey & Gerrad's
2.5 kg sterling silver dumbells cost ~$5,675 USD
- Gucci's snorkel mask and
flippers with their trademark logo
- Moschino's iridescent
silver windbreaker outshines the competition
- Hyp
fashion sense for women's golf
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