Liang Ping, who traveled from Xian in central China to Shanghai to shop, browsing through a rack at the boutique Estune. (photo Ariana Lindquist for the IHT)
A number of young designers here have opened shops to sell their own creations.
By Alexandra A. Seno
'When I look at China and fashion, the underlying focus is on the rebirth of individualism," Lorraine Justice, head of the school of design at the Hong Kong Polytechnic University, said in an interview. And amid the clutter of Shanghai's retail scene, a number of youthful and energetic designers are making their mark by celebrating that personal kind of style. Why make a black silk vest the way one has been taught at school when it can be cut differently, covered buttons can be added in unexpected places and the whole thing can be embellished with ribbons, beads and feathers?
That is certainly the attitude this season at Estune, a funky boutique on Chang Le Road in the strip close to the Rui Jin Road intersection, where a number of young designers have opened shops. Clothing stores along the street reflect the range of Shanghai style today. There are those that offer factory overrun clothing at prices three times the norm; those that sell poorly made shoes and bags and outfits with iron-on crystal accents. Then there are shops like Estune - a space in which clothes are hung in a loft-like space of unfinished concrete with whitewashed wood doors.
The clothing in shops like Estune is different from that produced by the first generation of contemporary Shanghai designers, like Wang Yiyang of Cha Gang fame, Han Feng, or the great hope of Chinese fashion, Wang Wei, now based in London. That group, whose members are still working in fashion, approached clothing as art. Indeed, Wang Yiyang and Wang Wei got their big breaks working for a fashion label started by the late Chen Yifei, a painter who is considered a Chinese realist master. In contrast, the newcomers, first and foremost, appear to be just having fun.
Alex Ying Jianxia, the creative force behind Estune, trained at the Beijing Fashion Institute, where he saw photographs of work by Yohji Yamamoto and fell in love with the aesthetic. Ying, 32, who has worked in the garment trade since graduation, opened Estune last year with investment from friends and family. He describes the spirit behind his style as the pursuit of "self-expression."
As for the brand name, he said proudly, "I thought of myself. I know there is no word like this in English, but it sounds good, so I thought it would make a nice name." (It is pronounced "s-tune," the ending rhyming with "moon.") Estune, which uses high-quality wool and silks for its women's wear, has attracted the attention of the local hipster crowd, most of whom are trendy young working women. This season, Ying has given traditional pieces a spirit of fun and youth: big wool coats in red-and-black plaid, busily decorated vests. Ying estimates that the bulk of his clientele are Chinese, many of them mainland-based Taiwanese and Hong Kongers; about 30 percent are Americans and Europeans who live in Shanghai.
Shanghai is far enough from Beijing for designers to feel free to experiment and far enough from Hong Kong to keep its influences at arm's length, preserving the strong effect of their cultural roots, said Justice of Hong Kong Poly, who also is the author of the coming book "China by Design." For young designers, "Shanghai is the perfect place - it has the history and contemporary culture and is close to the factories of the Yangtze Delta," she said. "It really is the perfect place for this kind of creative soup."
In general, designers like Ying say they are going through a deconstructionist moment, taking apart the traditional fashion format in favor of something new. "They're not totally Italian with high drama and not Japanese with understatement over strong basic structure," Justice said. "The Chinese deconstructionists are unique. There is a pragmatism and experimentalism and a visual impact. This is why I see Chinese fashion becoming another great icon for the fashion world. There is an energy." At the two Even Penniless boutiques on Chang Le Road, the designer Gao Xin says he is guided by 1980s and 1990s Italian style as he experienced it in Hong Kong films. He said: "I think of those times, of the movies of Andy Lau and Leslie Cheung and what they wore. The clothes had a pureness to them."
As for his own closet, Gao is a self-confessed fan and owner of pieces by Helmut Lang, Martin Margiela and Raf Simons. Gao, a Hangzhou fashion school graduate, has become one of the most exciting local names in young fashion by creating very wearable clothes with just that flair. He does a chocolate trench coat in a perforated wool fabric, fastening it with nylon tape. A midnight blue ankle-length skirt turns into a mini when the bottom half zips off; a green striped version opens upwards, creating a high slit or an apron to wear over jeans. As for the name of his shops, Gao, 31, chuckles: "My friends do joke with me about that; they ask me: 'Why are your clothes so expensive for a Chinese brand?' I called it 'Even Penniless' because I thought style shouldn't be about money."
Gao's apparel, like that of his peers, is made in small quantities, usually a couple of dozen per style, by in-house staff. An Even Penniless trench sells for 2,598 yuan, or $347; a white crepe jacket at Estune is 2,980 yuan. In an essentially conservative society like Shanghai, the question remains: Is there a big enough market for these clothes in China? Over the years, a number of similarly promising labels have opened and then closed shop. "Ah, yes, in China there are not so many who would be comfortable wearing this look," Ying said. "It is hard to wear, but when it works, it looks great."
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