DWR DESIGN FORUM LECTURE

To Build A Collection:
From Japanese Architecture to Modular Dressing

Elaine M. Perlov
Fashion Designer and Owner, ElainePerlov/ImmortalCoil

Design Within Reach Furniture Studio
DWR Design Forum Lecture Series
Cambridge, MA, January 14, 2004

I am honored to be asked to speak in this forum of design professionals as the only fashion designer, among all of you architects, industrial designers and furniture designers.

A fashion designer can draw from many sources. Although the industry is largely driven by the fleeting trends of popular culture, the profession has a great number of notable stars whose designs continue to influence the work of others. But while it would be easy, and perhaps even expected, for me recite a litany of names and personalities, I'd like to take a different tact. I won't be mentioning Tom Ford, John Galliano or Karl Lagerfeld. Well at least I won't be mentioning them again.

This evening, I will point to certain elements of style and concept in both traditional Japanese architecture and 20th century American design that have piqued my interest and inspired my clothing and accessory design over the years. And I wish to highlight those moments of what I will call "relativeness" which serve as an underlying theoretical framework for my concept of MODULAR DRESSING.

After studying in Japan during college, I was most struck by the beauty and simplicity of traditional Japanese architecture, where a room could be created or recreated with sliding doors and folding screens. [fig.1] Now, when I build a fashion collection, I similarly conceive of each piece of clothing as a modular and changeable element of a whole. I want to make each piece versatile, economical and useful within a larger theme or scheme. As such, my collections are item-based, composed of simple, sculptural pieces that can be layered or mix-matched in numerous ways. And each season, the new collection evolves from the previous, making it easy for the wearer to freshen up her outfits with just a few new elements.

I came to create this MODULAR DRESSING concept from a background in sculpture and Japanese Art History -- not from fashion. I am self-taught as a fashion designer, never having taken a sewing course or business course. And when I took my first pattern course, I was already 5 years into doing major fashion shows.

In fact, my entry into the world of fashion was wholly unexpected. In 1991, while working at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston as a Japanese art curatorial intern, I invented and copyrighted the IMMORTAL COIL; a sculptural coiled steel hat design, with lots of torque. [fig. 2] Using materials I found in my parents basement, I made the first IMMORTAL COIL while I was home for Christmas. I hand-coiled galvanized steel into a Jackie-O style pillbox shape and then wrapped it in black velvet.

I would debut a new hat each month at Starving Artist on Newbury Street at their gallery openings. The hats got a great response. From then on, many unexpected opportunities ensued, all pointing to one thought: leave the Japanese art world behind and start my own company.

That was in 1992. Very soon after, I appeared in Vogue on the "Talking Fashion" page. [fig. 3] Such recognition was quite a nice way to launch my company. After Vogue, more articles began to appear about the IMMORTAL COIL and as a result, I was invited to be a part of a new group forming of 8 Boston Avant Garde fashion designers. I later went on to do my first solo show, which I staged at an art gallery in Fort Point. I based the collection on the work of Joseph Beuys and called it "Rescue Fashion". [figs. 4,5]

Trevor Fairbrother, the then-Curator of Contemporary Art at the MFA heard about the collection and asked me to restage the show in the I.M. Pei West Wing Lobby of the Museum. And as a result of the great success of that show, I was given a 5-season contract with Dewar's Scotch. With the considerable resources that Dewar's offered me, I was able to showcase my collections in elaborate catered runway shows to audiences of 500 to 800 people in historical landmarks around Boston. I chose unusual spaces that would relate to the clothes and create a dramatic spectacle, such as the Cyclorama, the Castle at Park Plaza, and the Emerson Majestic theatre, as well as a bowling alley in Jamaica Plain where models walked the lanes as the runway.

But my first foray into clothing design began with my becoming a member of the Boston Avant-Garde group in 1992 with our debut show at the Institute of Contemporary Art's Spring Gala. At the time, I only made hats and did not have any idea of how to make clothes, but how could I miss the opportunity to show at the ICA? I quickly taught myself and made 8 dresses.

My first dress to complement the hats was straight from Japanese architecture-slash-décor: A noren, but made for the body.[figs. 6, 7] My 4-flap dress, made of common burlap and sunback satin, had 12 sets of hooks and eyes to adjust to 3 different heights, or dozens of height combinations. The wearer was able to transform her dress into different sculptures each time she wore it.

The unique architectural dress would become a symbolic link between my Japanese art life and my fashion life. I would go on to make more and more Asian-inspired minimalist pieces, just delighting in the simplicity and the multi-functioning, multi-use ideas of Japanese design. In Japan I had observed that good design usually meant that an object was so simple and pared-down that it seemed to sing. [fig. 8: butterfly stool, yanagi sori 1954] And an object so simple could easily be placed in many different contexts, to totally change its mood.

* * *

Since being in Japan, I have reflected on the idea of "relativeness" or relatedness between objects, but also between people. I believe one can better understand Japanese design through a study of how individuals in Japanese society relate to one another and to their surroundings.

In most, or dare I say all, aspects of life in Japan, the individual does not stand alone, but lives in relationship to the landscape. In fact, the individual is keenly aware of that relationship, be the landscape a vast and unpredictable nature, an overcrowded urban landscape of other people, or a meticulously crafted Zen garden. [fig. 9] In this picture of a residential contemplative garden, the sandals to be worn to experience the "landscape" are specifically placed on the stepping-stone. That detail, to me, says that yes, we can be a part of this beautiful "landscape," but in a very prescribed way. Here, our experience of nature and our relationship to it is not haphazard, but designed, by those sandals and by the placement of the stones. And let me tell you, it is no simple task to navigate small stepping-stones with wooden sandals.

We can begin to see this carefully prescribed positioning in Japanese life as a metaphor for Japanese design; namely in MODULAR ELEMENTS that can be juxtaposed in numerous ways to create harmony through spatial relationships. [fig. 10] And it is those RELATIVE moments, those mutable, changeable elements -- be they sliding doors, folding screens or outdoor bamboo shades -- that continue to propel my clothing design to this day.

* * *

Before I proceed into more contemporary influences on my pieces from Japan and the West, let me turn briefly to sex, or rather, my clothing's demure sex appeal. In The Tale of Genji depicted here in this hand scroll of courtly life during the 11th century Heian period, [fig. 11] we see numerous flirtatious scenes of stolen glimpses and overheard whispers -- nobility and servants alike peering around corners or peeking through fabric "walls."

This sort of flirtation is what I attempt to capture in my layering of sheer fabrics. The wearer can show a tease of the pattern that is partially hidden, partially revealed, thus enticing her would-be love interest to come a little closer and steal another glimpse.

I would say that I design each piece of clothing and each accessory to entice any observer to take a closer look. And for me, it's all in the mix. I like to combine unlikely textures and patterns through layering, that catch people's eye, or make them say "OH!?"

[figs. 12, 13]
Let us look at these 2 spaces for a moment. Take a look at the various materials: we see bamboo, concrete, plants, glass, paper. Ah, but the way the materials are arranged-the contrasts become harmonies. Each element is reduced to an essential. Inside reflects outside -- outside comes inside -- the boundaries are loosely suggested so the mood can be changed with minor adjustments or a slide of a screen.

In the same way that sitting in such a room, you could slide open a door to reveal an inspirational garden, the wearer of my clothing can don my Bamboo Denim Suit and Matching Bag, and then remove the coat to reveal the hidden bamboo tee and bangles underneath. [figs.14, 15] Or she can take the mood of her outfit in another direction entirely, using the skirt as a base piece.

We have carried these modular concepts of MIX-MATCH and RELATIVENESS to the user interface on my website, elaineperlov.com. I invite you to take a sticker later and log on tonight at home. Each piece on the site is shown as a unique item in different "rooms" if you will, grouped according to theme or color. When you click on each item you see a suggested outfit combination - a different MODULAR option or mood. And with each subsequent season, the collection evolves to give the wearer ideas of how to include her older pieces in new contexts. Thus my concept of fashion is unusually economical.

Similarly, for the first furniture line that Russell Wright did for Heywood Wakefield in 1934, his pieces were shown in "room-like settings" using Wright's own accessory lines to complement the furniture. But it was to be sold as "open stock." Sets or suites, as furniture was commonly sold, would be replaced by ITEMS to suit individual tastes and usage. I was struck by the similarity of Wright's "open-stock" to my "item-based". In my design concept, every piece we make -- even our suits -- are sold as items, to let the wearer become a creative co-conspirator or stylist herself. By choosing different ELAINE PERLOV items or layers each day, she can redesign her own unique look according to her current need or whim. In our e-newsletter, The Fitting Room, that we offer quarterly to subscribers, I have a regular MODULAR DRESSING column that offers tips on how to extend your wardrobe.

I will close with an amusing and truly economical concept I had for a fashion show. As you all know, "economical" and "fashion" don't usually mix, but that intersection is where I get my ideas. Like Cézanne's limited palette of 3 to 5 earth tones, or the Japanese tea ceremony aesthetic of simplicity and restraint, I like to force myself to create more with limited resources. I always say, "Economy of form can be the most evocative." With that, I thought what better way to demonstrate all of these favorite concepts of mine than have one model wear all 50 outfits -- at once. She starts all layered up. Perfect hair and makeup. And as she gets to the end of the runway, she takes her top off and drops it there on the ground, to reveal a new outfit combo. Back and forth, new top/new skirt until there is a great heap of clothes at the foot of the stage and her hair is a bit disheveled. And then she does her last outfit change to reveal a glowing white bridal gown, the traditional signal of the finale.

Thank you.

Read the article in the Boston Sunday Globe