
The International Design Magazine
May, 1999
Wear House
by Julia Szabo
If clothes can be likened to spaces, then a design by Yeohlee would be a minimally appointed loft by John Pawson. "Intimate architecture" is the term the designer uses to describe her work. (No wonder Richard Martin has called her "the new Rudofsky.") Yeohlee's family legend has it that if you threw a stone in the Teng courtyard in Malaysia, you were bound to hit an architect; her father and two of her brothers are master builders. As is Yeohlee, in her fashion. Her elegant, ultra-functional clothes are at once protective and welcoming, as in a hooded, zip-front coat that's 100 percent reversible down to its pockets, or chaps that tie on over trousers for an added layer of urban armor. Meanwhile, architecture's ornamental side appears in a skirt of pewter and bronze silk with contrasting panels cut in the unmistakable shape of Gothic arches.
Putting fashion on the same plinth as architecture may raise objections from purists in both camps, but that has only fueled the line of inquiry, especially among a growing number of artists exploring fashion- and building-related themes. One of these artists is English-born, Paris-based Lucy Orta. Her repertoire, some of which she calls "Refuge Wear," focuses on issues of identity, the space claimed by the individual and the intersection of public and private realms.
Compared with Yeohlee's quiet temples, Orta's Refuge Wear is more like a fallout shelter. "I'm interested in mobility and in the human condition as it relates to self-sufficiency," Orta says. Her inspiration? "People in transition," she explains. Hence, Orta creates "ambulatory survival sacs" or "mobile cocoons" essentially, wearable bivouacs that convert from tentlike sleeping bags to coats, and back again. Executed in performances fabrics designed to withstand the harsh climates that mountaineers encounter (Polarfleece, ripstop nylon, Kevlar, aluminum fiber and materials that cool down or heat up according to changes in body temperature), they may best be described as the North Face meets Joseph Beuys. But Orta is careful to point out that, unlike her artistic inquiries, "fashion is a business, an industry. Once you move form artistic expression to a commercial garment, you have to take into account function on a long-term basis."
That crossover seems to have been achieved by Japanese designer Kosuke Tsumura, a disciple of Issey Miyake and the brains behind Final Home, a shoes-to-coats collection inspired by "the demands of an increasingly mobile society," Tsumura says. Designed to appeal to mind and body in both urban and rural settings, Final Home includes jackets and coats that feature as many as 48 (and no fewer than 24) pockets. Final Home also offers smaller items, sold separately, to stuff into those pockets: safety-orange terrycloth towels and insulating gun - and teddy bear-shaped pillows that keep in warmth. While some of the Day-Glo pocket stuffers may appeal to teen ravers, the bulk of Tsumura's output would seamlessly complement the average person's workaday wardrobe. A corporate-looking black wool buttoned blazer, for instance, reverses to become a sporty, water-repellent nylon jacket, complete with zippers and snaps.
Less like fixed buildings than shelters on wheels, these are the garments label sewn on the outside of every Tsumura garment includes a line for "blood type," in case of emergency) or Airstream trailers (one coat comes with instructions on how to stuff its pockets with newspapers to keep warm at outdoor sporting events.) The creative mind at work here seems to be saying that, as frequent-flying urban nomads, we should carry our supplies on our backs because at any moment, without warning, a pleasant afternoon at the football stadium could turn to unspeakable disaster (or just become uncomfortably cold.)
In Final Home, as in the work of Yeohlee and Lucy Orta, there's another simple recognition, the one at the heart of any enterprise involving clothes: No matter how life-or-death the situation, it's useful to be able to adapt, to change one's appearance at a moment's notice.
And to do that, it sure helps to have pockets.
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