“It was running joke as a kid, that all I wanted to wear were cut-offs and T-shirts,” says Ilana Kohn. “My mom would buy them by the pack, and I would cut the sleeves and the neck.” Of course, Kohn is now known as the creator of a rabidly collected, Brooklyn-based, cult-favorite clothing line, so was fashion always the master plan? Sure, she was interested in clothes, she says, but her teenage self would be more than a little surprised at this turn. At 18, she says, she did not want to be a “fashion person,” intending rather to study fine art and spend her life of painting. But after high school — in a move that would appease parents who worried about her making a living — Kohn left her native Virginia for New York City to study illustration at Pratt.
She made Brooklyn her home, and, after graduating, worked for nearly a decade as an editorial illustrator. Then the recession struck. “Publishing went off the edge of the cliff”, she says, “and illustration was the ball attached to its ankle. Literally overnight I was left twiddling my thumbs.”
Was this the moment she rekindled her love of cut-offs and customizing tees? No, instead she headed back to school for a historic preservation degree. But it was then that she began sewing clothes for herself, born out of restlessness and boredom. She started selling the odd piece, and on a break between classes one day, Kohn told a friend she was going to make a batch of dresses, asking the friend to shoot them. She hasn’t looked back since.
Today, Kohn runs the label from the apartment she shares with her boyfriend in Brooklyn’s leafy Clinton Hill. They moved in a year ago, turning one bedroom of the two-bed into Kohn’s studio. Is she the type to roll out of bed and work in pajamas? On occasion “I do! I did today! I was drafting patterns in a tank top and no bra,” she admits. “The goal is putting on nothing more than required. One step above completely unpresentable.”
That laid-back attitude may be why there’s such an easiness to Kohn’s designs, generous riffs on simple silhouettes that carry her eye-catching fabrics. “I am striving to create fashion for people who are not fashion obsessed,” she says. “The idea for the garment shapes is to simply to let the textiles speak.” Her years spent as an illustrator are put to good use: Each season begins with the prints, drawn by hand, scanned and then adapted on the computer.
Kohn is part of a wider landscape of indie fashion designers carving a niche in the market, relatively free of outside investment. She is proud of the label being sustainable both in terms of production and economics, and she says the industry has been very supportive. “The number of truly awful people I have come across I could barely count on one hand!” Fashion, she has discovered, is nothing like her 18-year-old self imagined.
Kohn nestled into a rail loaded with her current season’s merch. “In the studio I have quite a bit of inventory, but not too much. It is sort of good to have it here, as I am hyper aware of how much I have, and what I have to deal with.”
With bright white walls and shelves crammed with ceramics and keepsakes, she jokes, it looks like the Sight Unseen shop IRL. “Everything is just random stuff collected from friends.”
The designer’s ceramics, which she says she collects because they are organic but also utilitarian. “I have a hard time collecting things that are not useful as I am left wondering why I have it. My clothes are also utilitarian; that is the goal.”
The walls of the studio are filled with fabric swatches and tears. The basket is by Doug Johnston and the brass necklace by Kohn. “I made it during a failed attempt at thinking I could do jewelry.”
Each season begins in a sketchbook. “I have taught myself to draft patterns and I love doing it, but I also love designing the textiles because of my background in illustration.”
“Each season the textiles come first. I start in my sketchbook designing prints; once they come together, they are sent to my printer, and in between all that I am sourcing additional fabrics.”
“I’ve just started working with a really lovely small mom-and-pop fair-trade factory in India. I could not be happier,” Kohn says of her Spring 14 collection.
Kohn’s swatches are scattered around the studio. “If you know any quilters, I’ve got scraps up the wazoo. I’ve been donating them to the Textile Arts Center, and I sent a huge box to a quilter in LA.”
“It is so exciting when I get the strike offs for the fabric, and it’s like Christmas all over again when I get my first samples each season.”
Fabric swatchbooks to send out to clients.
“While the fabric is printed I am working on the silhouettes. The prints come first but the silhouettes are certainly informed by them.”
Shooting the lookbook: Kohn has been working with photographer Dustin Fenutermacher and model/jewelry designer Caroline Ventura for a few season now. “It’s the dream team.”
A still from the Spring 14 lookbook.
All those years of illustration, says Kohn, were solitary in pursuit, and it’s clear she still takes a self-sufficient approach to work, doing everything herself. “Packing, shipping, emailing, running all the random errands in the garment district, everything: It’s all me.”
She admits she likes her own space, but realizes the label’s current success and growth will mean some changes. “I don’t have lofty goals besides hopefully a couple of employees, and probably not running it from here anymore.” Working from home now really suits though. “I keep very bizarre hours and there are no boundaries. It could be 3AM and I wake up to go to the bathroom, an idea will pop into my head and I will wander into the studio and scribble it down.”
Although she does not wish to return to illustration, Kohn misses her first love, painting. “I would love to have a painting studio. If I could have a space to do large-scale oil paintings that would be really nice.”
The designer pulls up work from her previous life as an illustrator. “The last assignment I took was from the New Yorker. I was like no more!”
“This is a portrait of me that my friend Frank Stockton did. He gave it to me maybe seven years ago when we were both working as illustrators. He’s now working as a fine artist in Los Angeles. It feels like there has been a mass exodus to LA from NY of late and it has crossed my mind to do the same. But I don’t even know how to drive so I would not survive there, and I love it here, so I think we will stay.”
Sighted on 032c's website: Carson Chan interviews the American fashion designer Rick Owens about his work and his interest in architecture and interior design. Regarding the latter, Owens replies: "I’m very much a dilettante. I’m not a connoisseur, and I don’t have the memory for all the names and dates. People ask if it’s different to design furniture than clothing, and the answer for me is no. Doesn’t every designer want to design their entire environment, and apply their aesthetic to everything around them?"
Though it was never intended that way, Wrap magazine might just be the perfect racket. With each 11.7 x 16.5–inch editorial spread backed by an illustration meant to double as wrapping paper, it's practically compulsory to buy two of every issue — one to keep forever, and one to dissect into packaging for your best friend's birthday present. As far as the London-based magazine's founders, Chris Harrison and Polly Glass, are concerned, either approach is perfectly valid. "As designers, the most satisfying feeling is seeing people using and enjoying what you've made," they say. Both began as jewelry designers for brands like Matthew Williamson and Paul Smith, with Glass venturing into furniture design for Innermost before leaving to devote her time to Wrap, which they hope will eventually blossom into an illustration-driven housewares and stationery brand. The pair's first issue launched last fall with stories about and contributions from up-and-comers including Merijn Hos and Sam Harris, and the second issue came out last week, its size bumped from A4 to A3 and its designer interviews even more in-depth. Sight Unseen secured permission to reprint here an interview with the Brooklyn-based illustrator and William Morris disciple Dan Funderburgh, whose wallpaper design pictured above was adapted especially for Wrap.
“Always listen to your mother” isn’t exactly the kind of central tenet they teach you at Harvard Business School. But for Emily Sugihara, the California-raised, Brooklyn-based designer behind the reusable bag line Baggu, it’s a piece of advice that’s been invaluable to the brand’s runaway success since its founding in 2007. Back then Sugihara was a Parsons grad working as an assistant designer at J. Crew, just coming to realize that a corporate job wasn’t her calling. “As a kid, I was very entrepreneurial, and I always knew I wanted to have my own company,” she says. At home over Christmas break one year, Sugihara and her mother began talking about making a line of reusable shopping bags. Her mom was “sort of a treehugger” and an artist in her own right — an expert seamstress who learned to sew making her own clothes as a kid in rural Michigan — and Sugihara was a die-hard New Yorker-in-training, sporting fingers turned purple each week as she lugged home bags full of groceries. Together they came up with a bag that’s almost exactly like the original ripstop nylon Baggu that sells today: long handles that fit comfortably over the shoulder, gussets along the bottom that allow things like milk and eggs to stack, and a single, double-reinforced seam that’s the result, Sugihara says, of her mother’s “sewing genius.”