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J U N Y A W A T A N A B E |
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In Tokyo, where fashion is taken as seriously as politics, Junya Watanabe's collections spark more scrutiny than the latest governmental bailout plan. Maybe it's because while the parliament mires the country in the same old, same old, Watanabe and the avant-garde designer pack he runs with—Yohji Yamamoto, Issey Miyake and Rei Kawakubo—make Japan, and design aficionados worldwide, try to envision what is to come.
At 41, Watanabe is the wunderkind of the bunch. After graduating from Tokyo's renowned Bunka Fashion College in 1984, he joined Kawakubo's label, Comme des Garçons. In 1992 he designed his first eponymous collection for the house.
Variously described as understated and elusive, Watanabe nevertheless hasn't shied away from making bold, even shocking, statements on the runway. He famously bucked the minimalist lockstep of the mid-'90s to unleash a collection of clothing made of candy-colored polyvinyl chloride.
Just as likely to wield metal wires as he is gorgeous brocades, Watanabe deconstructs even his more traditional offerings—like beautifully tailored jackets—with unraveling hems and rough seams. "It's Scarlett O'Hara meets A Clockwork Orange," says Gene Krell, international fashion director for Vogue Japan and Vogue Korea. "Fashion is meant to advance the notion of what fashion is. And he does."
Watanabe's collection for spring/summer 2003 is a case in point. "I saw someone wearing a backpack, and I thought the silhouette was interesting," he tells Time. Many of the pieces feature poufed pouches with straps wrapped around bunched-up skirts and ripped pants. Decked out in sporty flats and topped with giant, billowing hats, the models look as though they have parachuted in from rock-climbing—in garden-party florals. Shrugs Watanabe: "I don't follow rules."
—By Lisa Takeuchi Cullen. With reporting by Michiko Toyama/Tokyo
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