VINCENZO LA TORRE meets “avant-garde” conceptualist HUSSEIN CHALAYAN and discovers that there’s more to the designer than highbrow gimmicks
WHENEVER JOURNALISTS ATTEMPT to analyse the work of Hussein Chalayan, the London-based, Cyprus-born and Central Saint Martins-trained fashion designer, they can’t help referring to him as an artist, an outsider, extolling the virtues of his “avantgarde” and “groundbreaking” work without looking at his output as they would with any other designer.
Although it’s true that Chalayan has been mesmerising the fashion world for the last two decades with runway shows that are often more akin to art performances than mere catwalk presentations, he’s also the creator of eminently wearable clothes. Just look at his spring/summer 2014 collection: from mannish tailoring to summery striped dresses, the offerings are not those of a conceptual artist but rather creations with an urban and modern edge, eschewing any highfalutin tricks.
The designer himself believes that his outsider status in the industry is something of a misconception. “They’re bored, they see the same things all the time,” he says, referring to jaded fashion editors. “They’ll ask something like, ‘Are there going to be showpieces?’ and I’m just like, ‘Just come to the show, don’t ask me stupid questions like that.’ They’re tired, and I feel generally fashion can be very boring for the people in it – it’s just the same old stuff. Generally the writers in Europe are part of a big machine and a lot of them have sold their souls to corporations – they’re puppets of corporations.”
Chalayan blames this constant obsession with the new on the way the media – and as a consequence many designers – approach the business. “In our years it was really about doing something new, it wasn’t about just business,” he says. “In my case, I always liked the idea that whatever I did people could wear, but it was also about new ideas, experimenting, trying to fuse different worlds together, whereas I think designers now are predominately concerned with selling nice clothes, which is fine. But there isn’t really much going on in terms of new ideas. It’s another business model and I respect it. But for me it’s about both because I really care about the business side and I want to sell and I like seeing it on people, but I also care that it needs to be a little bit newer. There’s so much product out there. What’s the point of being the same as somebody else? I find the designers now don’t care about that, just about the business, especially in London, because it’s like a factory that produces designers.”
When looking back at some of Chalayan’s most memorable shows, one can see why they have become the stuff of legend in fashion history. His first collection (Cartesia, autumn/winter 1994), which was selected by London boutique Browns for a window display and put him on the map, featured dresses that had been buried underground and then brought back to life after the decomposing effect of nature had played its part in the final appearance of the pieces. Spring/summer 1998 (Between) was one of his most controversial, featuring naked models with their heads covered in burkalike fabrics, making a point about “political identity and defining territory through dress code”. Afterwords (autumn/winter 2000) was inspired by the harsh reality of refugees, who often have to make do with whatever possessions they have once they’re displaced by the brutal forces of war (models in a living room used furniture to dress themselves, which made for a riveting and unsettling performance).
Themes such as displacement, identity and speed are recurring motifs in Chalayan’s work and originate from his own background. As a young boy in Turkish Cyprus, he experienced first-hand the ravages of war and of growing up in a divided land, travelling back and forth between London and Cyprus before permanently settling in the British capital.
“I’m really a Londoner more than anything,” he says. “I’m also an Ottoman, from a typical Ottoman kind of situation, which is a souk. I’ve gone from one place where everyone is from somewhere else to another melting pot where you can still see the segregation, the components of London life. Anyone can speak another language in London so you’re able to relate to different ways of thinking and it makes you more tolerant, more open – you have more empathy as well. So I feel it’s good to be from another background.”
From day one, Chalayan never approached fashion as a simple game of pretty dresses and bags; his forays into art and filmmaking (he has sold some of his video art to collectors and shown it in galleries around the world) make him something of a polymath, though these other efforts are not unrelated to his day job. “It’s an extension of my work and it can also inspire new works. I kind of have a world, if you like, and the clothes are components, with the films an extension of the work that creates context. It’s the way I work. It’s an unusual model,” he explains.
With his artistic bent, experimental approach and brainy attitude (he’s well read and an avid consumer of literary theory from Braudillard to De Botton), it’s not surprising that labels like “arch-conceptualist avantgarde designer” have come to define him, no matter how approachable and customerfriendly his pieces are (he’s also worked with brands such as TSE and is creative director of Puma).
Reflecting on this perceived status as an “outsider”, he shares some interesting ideas to explain it. “This is actually a thesis if you would say so, and in my opinion it’s interesting for writers like you to study [it]. Back when I started, for the generation of people from that era, we were not part of digital media, so what would happen is, the press would come to your shows and they would want an interesting picture from you to put into the newspaper, to sell their newspapers. So you became this stupid avant-garde designer. Now, with the digital era, everyone can see everything at once while I’m having an interview right after a show. But you’ve already built up a reputation of being an avant-garde designer with a table skirt because of the requirement of the newspapers.
“In the past, the showpieces were picked up by editorial, but actually our collections were more accessible, so there’s this weird duality. Now you see everything in one go, so it’s a positive thing for me because everyone can see that most of the time it’s not only the table skirt, it’s really a simply tailored coat or a dress. This is what takes time. And actually the showpieces are always done at the end. And of course they’re done beautifully and with care but this is the situation.”
It’s clear that the astute and no-nonsense Chalayan has given much thought to his role in fashion, which now more than ever needs strong points of view like his to wake itself up to the reality that things have definitely changed, and not necessarily for the better.
“I’m just a very curious person – the good thing in us Mediterranean people is that we’re more curious. And when you’re mixed as well, you have the ingredients to be more curious, because you can look at things from various perspectives, and I come from a place where Islam and Christianity meet, so how could you not become a curious person?
“And in a place where we have political discussions, you become more attuned with questioning things, there’s a lot going on, you get a potential platform to analyse more. I think the more that has happened in your region, the more you are prone to question things,” he says. Riveting shows and artistic tendencies aside, it’s this inquisitive nature that makes Chalayan one of a kind, a rare bird in the pantheon of contemporary fashion: a creator of beautiful things with brains and depth to match.