Translating China’s Classics
In Vivienne Tam’s world, beatific Buddhas, mythic dragons, fierce tigers, chubby Chinese babies, sacred lotus flowers and Chairman Mao’s stern moon face decorate a vividly colored landscape. Such Asian motifs are in her blood, and printing them on clingy stretch nylon netting has made Tam one of the decade’s most original and popular American fashion designers.
Other successful designers have shown the influence of their backgrounds in their work. Gianni Versace often used imagery remembered from his southern Italian childhood, and Dolce & Gabbana regularly celebrate their native Sicily in their operatic collections.
The 41-year-old Tam is particularly passionate about reflecting her heritage in her clothes because she grew up in Hong Kong, where the traditional colonialist disrespect for indigenous culture flourished. On a recent visit to Los Angeles, she spoke about how British imperialism fostered a hunger for identity in the Chinese-born girl.
“My parents practiced Confucianism, but I went to a Catholic school, and everything there was Christian,” she said. “All the children with Chinese names had to take on an English name like John or Mary, because that was easier for the English teachers. We had very few classes about Chinese literature or culture. Instead of trying to learn about our culture, it was more convenient for them to just impose theirs on the colony.”
In the Hong Kong of Tam’s youth, fashion was enthralled with European and English brands. She began sewing her own clothes as a child and enjoyed crocheting and needlework.
“When you work with your hands, you can really feel the texture of the material,” she said.
She admired traditional Chinese crafts sold in local department stores: Flowers were embroidered on linens and silks, and hand-beading was a finely practiced art. She wanted to use such traditional techniques in a modern way.
“When I graduated from the Polytechnic Institute, where I studied art and dressmaking, I knew that if I did something with a Chinese influence in Hong Kong, there was no way it would be understood. Only things coming out of the West were appreciated,” she said.
So, in 1982, she packed a first small collection in a plastic duffel bag and went to New York.
“I felt right away that New York was my place,” she said. “No matter who you are, you have the freedom to do what you want to do there.”
Determination and persistence sustained her as she knocked on the doors of department store buyers, confident that once they saw her designs, they would buy them. The clothes were well received, and orders for that first collection from Macy’s and a number of New York boutiques launched her American career.
Her business grew slowly once she moved to New York. She never hired a sales representative, took on a partner or sought a backer. Profits were saved or reinvested in the business, and Tam welcomed the opportunity to learn about everything from fabric ordering to bookkeeping. At her first boutique show, a chance to reach buyers from around the country, she even served as her own model, not an unlikely role for the pretty, petite woman.
Her breakthrough came in 1994, when she spent more than $100,000 of hard-earned profit on a major runway show. In the following three years, sales tripled, reaching their current level of $12 million annually. Today, there are six Vivienne Tam stores, one in New York’s SoHo, the rest in Asia. In Los Angeles, her clothes are sold at Bloomingdale’s, Neiman Marcus and Saks, as well as many boutiques. The Tracy Ross shop on Sunset Boulevard was crammed with Tam fans during an after-hours shop and party event during Tam’s visit here, and collectors wore their favorite Tams to a fashion show at Bloomingdale’s Beverly Center store.
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In the early days, one of Tam’s biggest challenges was convincing people in Hong Kong and China that traditional handiwork could be updated.
“I wanted to do colorful embroidery on nylon netting, and they would tell me, ‘Oh, no. Not possible to make that. We embroider on silk or linen.’ It was very frustrating,” she said.
Visits to China, just opening to foreign visitors in the ‘80s, were also journeys of exploration for Tam.
“I needed to go there and feel what China is,” she said. “At first, I was shocked by everything I saw. Hong Kong is small and cramped. In China, the landscape is vast and beautiful. Each time I traveled, I collected more things and saw more of the country’s art. It became my mission to translate Chinese elements into fashion.”
Because of her last trip, to Bhutan, symbols of Tibetan Buddhism inform her latest collection.
The focus on Tam’s roots would be tolerated as just so much political correctness if the clothes she created weren’t pretty, sexy, exuberant and distinctive. But they are. She has the talent to be simultaneously current--offering cropped pants or camisoles when they are the items of the fashion moment--and original--placing embroidery on that camisole in a way no one else does, or pairing it with a skirt extravagantly beaded enough for an empress.
The nylon mesh that turns up in different guises in every Tam collection is a miracle fabric. It doesn’t wrinkle, stretches to fit the body and is nearly weightless. It only has to be dipped in water to be cleansed. Pregnant women flaunting their expanding bellies love to wear it.
“For me, it’s beautiful to see women of all different ages, shapes and sizes wearing my clothes,” Tam said. “I’m a woman, and I understand a woman’s body. There are certain parts you want to show off, and other parts that you don’t want to exaggerate. Some women are afraid of wearing clothes that show their bodies, but I say, ‘Why worry?’ Imperfections give a woman character. And everyone has them.”
When Tam appears at stores, she is a magnet for Asian American design students.
“They want to know how I made it, and I tell them, ‘You just have to be yourself. You have to trust yourself and have patience.’ ”
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