She’s Gotta Cha-Cha : Fashion: Her witty, sexy designs have made Maggie Barry the darling of the MTV generation. The fit of her clothes, says a fan, “does wonders for almost anyone.”
When Maggie Barry was a teen-ager, she was torn between two careers: fashion design and zoology.
Had Barry taken the scientific route, Cher wouldn’t be making headlines with an X-rated leather thong costume on her “Love Hurts” tour. And women--from California to Saudia Arabia--wouldn’t be showing their curves and cleavages in some of the most provocative clothing made in the U.S.A.
Barry--who named her cat and her company Van Buren--is best known for fun, functional, body-conscious bustiers, leggings, skirts, shorts, jackets and dresses spliced with leather and spandex and loaded with extras such as ribbons, lace, gold stripes, jet sequins or elaborate appliques.
She has become the darling of the MTV generation, making costumes for Cher’s workout tapes, Prince’s “Cream” video and the Flygirls of “In Living Color.”
But she also plays well in an eclectic mix of stores that includes Macy’s, Cache, Fred Hayman in Beverly Hills and Martha International in Manhattan and Palm Beach--where the client might be a 60-year-old socialite.
“No matter what she does, there’s always a funky vibe to it,” says Lee W. Moore, a stylist who works frequently with Barry and commissioned “15 pearly girdles” for the “Cream” video. “It always has a great little sexy twist, and there’s always a lot of humor involved.”
Moore says the Lycra that Barry uses “is very, very thick and very forgiving. It covers up a lot of imperfections, like those extra two pounds you don’t want. And the fit of her bra cups does wonders for almost anyone.”
None of this is lost on customers who like the snug, flattering fit and the cutting-edge humor that frequently reflects Barry’s fascination with the ‘60s and ‘70s. Then there are the large, varied collections--usually 65 to 75 pieces--and the prices--$80 to $850--that make Van Buren seem cheap compared to European designers.
It also photographs very well. These days, Cher is frequently seen wearing a Van Buren piece as she struts across the pages of the supermarket tabloids; lately it has been a pair of mesh-and-suede leggings. A red-white-and-blue leather Star-Spangled Banner jacket is featured in the Lady Stetson fragrance ads. And last year, a Van Buren design was part of an Absolut vodka advertising campaign.
Created by Barry and her first co-designer, Stephen Walker, the Absolut catsuit--with a vine that runs up the leg and ends in a lemon over each breast--is the perfect example of Van Buren wit and vision.
“I was dying to put the lemons on each breast,” says Barry. “The bust has always been a focus of our line. Plus it makes a good picture. When I think of clothes, I always think of what they look like from far away.”
Her vision of success recently felled Walker, who quit the 4 1/2-year-old business a few months ago. “He felt it was becoming too much work for him. But we might be doing accessories together. There were no fights,” says Barry.
Dressed for a day of work in her Sun Valley factory, she looks like Tex-Mex meets Pippi Longstocking. Her pretty moon face is free of makeup and framed by two pony tails of long, silky, dyed-black hair. She wears an all-black ensemble--zip-front jumper, blouse, leggings and patent-trimmed soft-soled shoes--topped by an ornate Southwestern ceramic cross.
Her new co-designer is Ty Moore--a friend of Barry’s and Walker’s from their days at the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT) in New York. Together, they have created two Van Buren collections and launched Love Line--a more casual, more affordable ($30 to $80) version of Van Buren. The leather-look plastic boleros, lace-trimmed bell bottoms, Sgt. Pepper suits and fringed leggings will start appearing in stores in late July.
In typical fast-track style, Barry gave Moore two weeks to pull up stakes in New York and relocate in California. She gave her sister, Carolyn Ajavananda , the same amount of time to move from Rochester, N.Y., two years ago to become her graphic artist and all-around right-hand woman.
Barry, the oldest of seven siblings, was born in Los Angeles. When she was 5, her parents moved to her father’s native Thailand where Barry drank some bathwater, contracted amoebic dysentery and was flown to Rochester, home of her maternal grandmother, for medical care.
Her father joined them, and the gang of seven grew up in Rochester where Barry says they were encouraged to be artistic and “eccentric” by their mother.
“She would dress us up in cowboy and Indian outfits and send us off to school,” recalls an appreciative Barry. “When my father became a citizen, she dressed us all up in red-white-and blue. In the ‘70s, we wore dashikis and love beads.”
In high school, Barry raised gerbils and guinea pigs and sold them to her friends. During the summers she worked at the local zoo, tending reptiles, small mammals, baby pigs and goats. Thanks to Barry, says Ajavananda, “we would end up baby-sitting the rabbits they had in the petting zoo during the winter.”
But Barry scrapped plans to study zoology at Syracuse University after falling under the spell of the wild costumes she made to enter hustle contests. She went to FIT, she says, “because it was closer to Studio 54 and Xenon” the New York City discos in 1978 and 1979.
There, Moore became her disco and business partner. Their first venture was A.M. (short for Abstract Mode), a line of belts decorated with model tanks and planes that sold in Macy’s and specialty stores. The design duo had fun but didn’t make much money and went on to Coooo Collection. Its psychedelic bell-bottoms and hooded jumpsuits were precursors of the Van Buren look. But once again Moore and Barry didn’t make enough money to stay in business.
That all changed with Rutledge Bermingham Barry, III, Maggie’s husband, a product of Manhattan private schools who is fond of balanced books and Brooks Brothers clothing.
Six years ago, the Barrys and Walker moved to Los Angeles while Moore took a more secure job in New York. With Rutledge as president of Van Buren and resident financial expert, Barry and Walker began turning out funky bike shorts and push-up bras. They attracted the attention of singer Jody Watley, who wore them in her first video, and customers of H. Lorenzo--an upscale store in Sunset Plaza with an entertainment clientele that includes Watley, Janet Jackson and Tom Jones.
Unknown to owner Manny Hadar, Barry, his ace saleswoman, was also designing Van Buren. She quit her sales job when she realized her business was interfering with Hadar’s. But he has no hard feelings.
He considers Barry a friend, praises her “phenomenal” memory--and her talent. In his store, it puts her on an equal footing with European extroverts like Gianni Versace, Sophie Sitbon and Franco Moschino.
But Hadar isn’t a complete pushover. Last fall, he rejected a Van Buren collection that included a lace and leather catsuit that he thought looked “too cheap, too much like Melrose” for his clientele.
It was in Melrose Avenue stores that many people, including Cher, first discovered Van Buren. Paulette Betts, Cher’s friend and assistant, was with the entertainer the day they each bought a black suede and Lycra bustier.
“I’ve lived in it,” says Betts. “I’ve worn it with jeans, with long skirts, with miniskirts, under a jacket. Her stuff is great.” So great that Cher has worn it on the street, in videos, on stage and in posters. The “Love Hurts” poster, used subsequently as an ad, shows Cher in a leather thong bodysuit, which exposes two tattoos. The ad made headlines when it was banned by the Atlantic City Press.
Suzi Joi Kiefer, a New York transplant who works for Vogue on the West Coast, calls Barry “one of the most fashionable people I’ve encountered since I’ve moved to L.A. It definitely takes someone special to wear her clothes, but that’s what makes the world go round. We need people like her in the fashion business or we’d all die of boredom.”
When Barry needs a lift, she goes shopping for shoes--although it used to be hats. In fact, the Barrys’ Encino apartment is filled with shoes and hats. There is also a menagerie headed by Van Buren the cat and Luna, a black Pomeranian who wears a rhinestone collar and eats chicken tacos for lunch.
Barry’s fascination with footwear--especially platform heels to elevate her 5-foot-5 frame--is obvious to everyone, including her. “Sometimes I think I’m a shoe designer trapped in a clothing designer’s body,” she says. “I think of my clothes as being as solid as shoes. They’re made so you can pound the pavement in them.”
There is little doubt she could create those strong clothes alone. But Barry says she needs a co-designer like Moore to make the collections sing.
“We split everything down the middle. His headaches are mine, mine are his. We conceptualize the line together, make the patterns together, buy the fabrics together. It’s a good balance.
“I look at design like making music. It’s better when more people are working on it. It makes a fuller sound.”
