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Struggling to succeed in Paris
By Jennifer Joan Lee International Herald Tribune
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2005
PARIS
The fashion designer Masako Shiro always dreamed of launching her own prêt-à-porter label. So, two years ago, she came to Paris. This glamorous metropolis, after all, is the world's fashion capital, non?
*"Well, yes and no," Shiro says today. "I feel there are people here looking for new designers - you just have to meet the right person at the right time. But the question is how? And when? And where?"
*The 30-year-old native New Yorker, whose first two collections of androgynous and elegant womenswear were presented with little success, is not the only fashion designer here wondering when serendipity will strike.
*Despite the city's haute couture history, its enviable one-of-a-kind boutiques, and the recent brouhaha about specialist buyers hunting down new talent, few home-grown Parisian designers actually make the cut.
*"We've been losing our hold as the epicenter of fashion for some time now," said Nicolas Delarue, co-founder of At Large, a Paris-based public relations agency that specializes in promoting young fashion designers. "It's just like our wine industry. Other countries are producing more competitive stuff."
*The Paris concept store Colette, now considered a harbinger of chic and cool after making its name showcasing independent designers, has long replaced its little labels with international giants such as Prada, Marc Jacobs and Lanvin. Although a couple of new talents are making an in-store debut this season, none is Parisian.
*"We choose our stock based on love at first sight and we simply haven't fallen in love with anything coming from local designers recently," said Nadège Mézou, a spokesperson for Colette.
Meanwhile, of the nearly 80 young creators showcased during Fashion Week by Rendez-Vous, the designer salon promoted by At Large, only a fraction is based in Paris. The statistics are even more dismal at Showroom Romeo, a hip fashion marketing office located in the trendy Marais district. Every one of its featured designers this season hails from abroad.
?
"Yes, buyers are getting tired of big brands and are looking for more unknown labels, but there are also fewer Parisian designers of good quality," said Romeo Oh Sungho, the showroom's eponymous founder. "Then again," he added, "they don't have the money to produce quality clothes."
?
Or perhaps, the quality clothes they produce don't earn them enough money, as was the case with Eric Berg?re, an artisan who spent six years creating women's clothes and accessories for Herm?s before launching his own high-end label in 1988. Though his work was adored by the fashion pack, it ultimately could not keep him afloat. In 2002, after years battling to stay in business, Berg?re surrendered, shutting down his Paris boutique and atelier.
?
"The money that you need is always more than the money you earn," he said. "By the end, I found myself spending most of my time seeking funds and paying bills instead of making clothes."
?
Many independent designers in France find themselves scrounging for cash to fund each new collection. The vagaries of their industry prevent them from securing bank loans; yet, they are obliged to invest significant capital - for materials, manufacturing, and above all, marketing. Berg?re says the fees for models, showrooms and runway shows were costing him as much as 100,000, or about $120,000, a season. And that's not counting the cost of advertising or hiring public relations and business development staff, luxuries few can afford.
?
Many, therefore, line their pockets by working for other brands. Pierre-Henri Mattout, a young designer with his own menswear label, devotes much of his time drawing up coats and suits for Dormeuil, a classic manufacturer of fabric and men's ready-to-wear. Though it's hardly Dior or Lacroix, the houses where he apprenticed, Mattout considers himself lucky.
?
?
"Only a precious few of us become stars like Lagerfeld or Galliano," he said. "It's best not to even think about it."
?
Daniel Jasiak long ago stopped entertaining such fantasies. Seven years after launching his own brand, the 40-year-old continues to squeeze out a living, running a business as pared down as his minimalist boutique, a stark, modern space in St. Germain-des-Pr?s dotted with a handful of imaginative one-off pieces.
?
With the help of an assistant, Jasiak sketches, cuts and stitches every item tagged with his name, working sometimes 13 hours a day in a cloth-strewn atelier in the basement of his shop.
?
"Every day I tell myself that I can't go on like this," said Jasiak. "But yet, I can't stop. It sounds ridiculous, but it's like I have a mission."
?
His mission, perhaps, is to demonstrate that clothes do not have to sport a fancy label to be worthy. Jasiak still bristles at the unreturned phone calls to fashion magazines, the chilly reception from lofty fashion houses - when he showed his portfolio to one luxury conglomerate, they apparently laughed in his face - or the humiliation of his first runway event, when bigger players pushed his show to the end and only a handful of friends remained to view it.
?
While Jasiak's multitextured pieces have since graced such shops as New York's Henri Bendel's, recognition remains elusive. Not that he claims to care anymore. "I make clothes to educate people, not to make money," he said.
?
"The only future for designers in Paris is to sell to a big group or to work for one," summed up Berg?re. (His own attempt to take that strategy ended with a whimper, however, when he was turned down during an interview with LVMH in the '90s because "they were looking for a bombe," and he "wasn't scandalous enough.")
?
Or perhaps, their future lies in making the kind of clothes that people can afford to wear, such as the boho-chic outfits created by Vanessa Bruno or Isabel Marant, two independent Parisian designers enjoying commercial success.
?
"It's always difficult to launch a high-end brand when you are completely unknown," said Mina d'Ornano, an accessories designer who built up her Paris-based mina Poe label by focusing on exquisite, handmade pieces. "And the hardest part is to stay consistent in your vision, despite market attempts to make you compromise."
**seems like designers everywhere struggle with similar issues...
iht.com
By Jennifer Joan Lee International Herald Tribune
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2005
PARIS
The fashion designer Masako Shiro always dreamed of launching her own prêt-à-porter label. So, two years ago, she came to Paris. This glamorous metropolis, after all, is the world's fashion capital, non?
*"Well, yes and no," Shiro says today. "I feel there are people here looking for new designers - you just have to meet the right person at the right time. But the question is how? And when? And where?"
*The 30-year-old native New Yorker, whose first two collections of androgynous and elegant womenswear were presented with little success, is not the only fashion designer here wondering when serendipity will strike.
*Despite the city's haute couture history, its enviable one-of-a-kind boutiques, and the recent brouhaha about specialist buyers hunting down new talent, few home-grown Parisian designers actually make the cut.
*"We've been losing our hold as the epicenter of fashion for some time now," said Nicolas Delarue, co-founder of At Large, a Paris-based public relations agency that specializes in promoting young fashion designers. "It's just like our wine industry. Other countries are producing more competitive stuff."
*The Paris concept store Colette, now considered a harbinger of chic and cool after making its name showcasing independent designers, has long replaced its little labels with international giants such as Prada, Marc Jacobs and Lanvin. Although a couple of new talents are making an in-store debut this season, none is Parisian.
*"We choose our stock based on love at first sight and we simply haven't fallen in love with anything coming from local designers recently," said Nadège Mézou, a spokesperson for Colette.
Meanwhile, of the nearly 80 young creators showcased during Fashion Week by Rendez-Vous, the designer salon promoted by At Large, only a fraction is based in Paris. The statistics are even more dismal at Showroom Romeo, a hip fashion marketing office located in the trendy Marais district. Every one of its featured designers this season hails from abroad.
?
"Yes, buyers are getting tired of big brands and are looking for more unknown labels, but there are also fewer Parisian designers of good quality," said Romeo Oh Sungho, the showroom's eponymous founder. "Then again," he added, "they don't have the money to produce quality clothes."
?
Or perhaps, the quality clothes they produce don't earn them enough money, as was the case with Eric Berg?re, an artisan who spent six years creating women's clothes and accessories for Herm?s before launching his own high-end label in 1988. Though his work was adored by the fashion pack, it ultimately could not keep him afloat. In 2002, after years battling to stay in business, Berg?re surrendered, shutting down his Paris boutique and atelier.
?
"The money that you need is always more than the money you earn," he said. "By the end, I found myself spending most of my time seeking funds and paying bills instead of making clothes."
?
Many independent designers in France find themselves scrounging for cash to fund each new collection. The vagaries of their industry prevent them from securing bank loans; yet, they are obliged to invest significant capital - for materials, manufacturing, and above all, marketing. Berg?re says the fees for models, showrooms and runway shows were costing him as much as 100,000, or about $120,000, a season. And that's not counting the cost of advertising or hiring public relations and business development staff, luxuries few can afford.
?
Many, therefore, line their pockets by working for other brands. Pierre-Henri Mattout, a young designer with his own menswear label, devotes much of his time drawing up coats and suits for Dormeuil, a classic manufacturer of fabric and men's ready-to-wear. Though it's hardly Dior or Lacroix, the houses where he apprenticed, Mattout considers himself lucky.
?
?
"Only a precious few of us become stars like Lagerfeld or Galliano," he said. "It's best not to even think about it."
?
Daniel Jasiak long ago stopped entertaining such fantasies. Seven years after launching his own brand, the 40-year-old continues to squeeze out a living, running a business as pared down as his minimalist boutique, a stark, modern space in St. Germain-des-Pr?s dotted with a handful of imaginative one-off pieces.
?
With the help of an assistant, Jasiak sketches, cuts and stitches every item tagged with his name, working sometimes 13 hours a day in a cloth-strewn atelier in the basement of his shop.
?
"Every day I tell myself that I can't go on like this," said Jasiak. "But yet, I can't stop. It sounds ridiculous, but it's like I have a mission."
?
His mission, perhaps, is to demonstrate that clothes do not have to sport a fancy label to be worthy. Jasiak still bristles at the unreturned phone calls to fashion magazines, the chilly reception from lofty fashion houses - when he showed his portfolio to one luxury conglomerate, they apparently laughed in his face - or the humiliation of his first runway event, when bigger players pushed his show to the end and only a handful of friends remained to view it.
?
While Jasiak's multitextured pieces have since graced such shops as New York's Henri Bendel's, recognition remains elusive. Not that he claims to care anymore. "I make clothes to educate people, not to make money," he said.
?
"The only future for designers in Paris is to sell to a big group or to work for one," summed up Berg?re. (His own attempt to take that strategy ended with a whimper, however, when he was turned down during an interview with LVMH in the '90s because "they were looking for a bombe," and he "wasn't scandalous enough.")
?
Or perhaps, their future lies in making the kind of clothes that people can afford to wear, such as the boho-chic outfits created by Vanessa Bruno or Isabel Marant, two independent Parisian designers enjoying commercial success.
?
"It's always difficult to launch a high-end brand when you are completely unknown," said Mina d'Ornano, an accessories designer who built up her Paris-based mina Poe label by focusing on exquisite, handmade pieces. "And the hardest part is to stay consistent in your vision, despite market attempts to make you compromise."
**seems like designers everywhere struggle with similar issues...
iht.com
...
...
I read it all. I was doing my best to be concise, so my wording didn't cover every scenario mentioned in the article. 
Hahaha, touche!
