September 21, 2004
FRONT ROW
Designers Who Would Rather Whisper Than Shout
By RUTH LA FERLA
t his fashion show this month, Thakoon Panichgul introduced a 10-piece collection highlighted by a quilted coat in a shade of pink so tender it matched the inside of a bunny's ear. The color was not likely to shake up his audience, but then it was not meant to. "Everything about this collection is muted, not loud or vulgar," said Mr. Panichgul, a Thai-born New Yorker, whose label is simply Thakoon.
The presentation, his first, was introduced, he said, as a reaction to over-the-top flash. "Right now there is too much celebrity-driven scream," he said.
With that declaration, Mr. Panichgul, 29, added his voice to a chorus of designers who would rather whisper than shout, who register their displeasure with the showiness pervasive in fashion today with clothes so subtle they beg to be viewed at close range. Few have the robust financing required to show under the tents at Bryant Park, though not all are, strictly speaking, young.
Collectively, however, they espouse a style that is the antithesis of bling. They say they share a steely resolve not to feed the machine that is E!, the Oscars preshow or In Style magazine. "There has got to be something that's quieter, more grown-up," Mr. Panichgul said.
His notion of maturity runs to a pastel anorak so cozy it could double as a bed jacket, with tufting as its only embellishment; a cotton jersey tank top decorated with a pearl and crystal collar; and a pencil skirt with exposed seams standing in for pleats. Never mind that he had to finance his own start-up. ("It was either that or make the down payment on an apartment," he said.)
Mr. Panichgul is nothing if not self-assured, his confidence buoyed by visits last week from retail movers and shakers like Kirna Zabête, Barneys New York and Linda Dresner.
Bergdorf Goodman was among the dozen or so retailers buzzing around the Midtown showroom of Y & Kei last week, scribbling orders for spring suits and jackets, among them tissue weight, gilded linen trench-coat dresses, silk cloqué jackets and a buoyant bustle coat.
There was a similar hum at the SoHo showroom of Lindy and Kathryn Jones of Palmer Jones. Identical twins — they just turned 40 — they have worked on Seventh Avenue for 18 years, the last five designing under their own label. Their soutache-embroidered shirts, hand-embellished jackets and lacy leather skirts, shown at the Wooster Galleries in Chelsea, are catnip to "hedge fund people and bankers," Lindy Jones said, "women who fiercely love fashion, but are innately conservative, not extreme."
Unlike the Joneses, Lisa Mayock, 22, and Sophie Buhai, 23, of Vena Cava, are novices, who pieced together their first collection at their studio in Brooklyn just after graduation from the Parsons School of Design last year. Their rayon jersey dresses with silk-screened patterns call to mind both Art Deco geometry and native American tribal imagery, and their coats have exposed linings bound in purple mesh, details that are "really personal," Ms. Mayock said, "the sort of thing you would be aware of only if you got right up next to it."
That kind of subtlety appeals to Steven Alan, who has showcased the designers' dainty tops and dresses in his store in TriBeCa. Mr. Alan is also partial to Christopher Deane, a label whose designers, Christopher Crawford and Angela Deane, presented their collection, their second, at the MAO Space, a downtown loft, last week. On parade were ivory charmeuse halter tops styled like sailors' middies; tulip-patterned blouses with flutter sleeves and ingenue sundresses of white dotted swiss.
What impressed Mr. Alan was the designers' dedication to their craft. "Plenty of people want a career in fashion," he said. "It's a celebrity thing. But do they really want to be designers? Probably not."
In contrast, Mr. Crawford and Ms. Deane are remarkable for their enthusiasm, he said. "They are into the process of making clothes."
I did an internet search but wasn't able to find out where to buy Palmer Jones 
