Some old article worth posting again,
Some bright lights in the shadows
MILAN — Despite its posh rank as one of the world's cardinal fashion capitals, Milan finds itself continuously condemned as "commercial" and censured for its "lack of youthful creativity."The only reason people come, the city's critics sniff, is for an endless round of big shows and big buys from billion-dollar brands. Although Milan's well-oiled fashion system favors the megawatt fashion labels, not every designer has jumped on board - which, sadly, is why you might not have heard of them.
Rule breakers in Milan consist of those underexposed designers who refuse to do mega fashion shows, eschew flip-flop fashion trends, don't chase after press, actually like being small and, startlingly, continue to exist without an ad budget.
Some of them quite literally hide from the press, as is the case of Carol Christian Poell, an Austrian designer who holes up in a studio in Milan's Naviglio district where he quietly designs an ultra-niche, cult label that he doesn't always produce and only shows to the public when he feels like it.
Production minimums, sales benchmarks and editorial credits don't mean much to this 39-year-old, who is dedicated to the singular pursuit of innovative product for his 10-year-old label. Not surprisingly, the press-shy Poell declined to be interviewed for this article, but his fans have plenty to say.
"Carol is unbelievable," says Armand Hadida, owner of the avant-garde L'Eclaireur boutiques in Paris, who discovered the designer nine years ago and is one of just 15 vendors that carries the brand worldwide.
"Have you ever seen him?" asks Hadida. "He's two meters tall with gold teeth in front and he's so sweet; he's like a kid."
more :
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/02/21/style/21iht-rnew.html
Miu Miu and mosquitoes
...
On my last evening, on the recommendation of some Milan veterans, I went to a show that was not on the official schedule, by a designer I had never heard of called Carol Christian Poell. He was, I was promised, "conceptual" - his clothes were about ideas, not just about looking good and sexiness and wealth. It sounded pretentious but worth investigating.
We drove for an hour across the Milan suburbs. On the hot pavements and in the humid shadows of the endless apartment blocks, ordinary Italian men in blue shirts and chinos and shapeless baggy shorts stood around, with not an obvious designer item between them. We got lost. We thought about giving up. But then, on a small patch of ground surrounded by roads and a canal, there was a cluster of people standing about and an elaborate table of drinks. This was the venue for Poell.
Its significance was not immediately obvious. We stood around on the dry grass. We swatted mosquitoes. Our Milanese driver stayed in the car; when we decided to take refuge there too, he laughed loudly at the absurdity of staging a fashion show in such a place and said: "The canal is the home of the mosquito!"
Then the small crowd of Poell fans - mostly the younger, scruffier, less important sort of Milan fashion people - suddenly ran towards the canal. I got to the towpath just in time to see, in the distance but floating slowly towards us, dozens of low shapes in the water. As they came closer, resting unnaturally flat on the surface they resolved themselves into a pair of trousers, a short coat and several exquisitely dressed bodies. As they came closer still, the bodies became models. Poell's clothes glowed startlingly white and orange in the murky water: slender, modern, covetable.
All along the canal, passers-by, commuters, and middle-aged women had stopped to look. "Fantistico!" said one of the other fashion-week drivers. Then we all ran back to our cars.
src:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2003/jun/27/fashion