Linder (Q5032)
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Linder is a fashion house from FMD.
| Language | Label | Description | Also known as |
|---|---|---|---|
| English | Linder |
Linder is a fashion house from FMD. |
Statements
At the charming home just a few blocks away from Union Square Park where Linder designers Sam Linder and Kirk Millar simultaneously showed their menswear and womenswear collections this season, women were trying on (and sometimes buying) garments straight off the rack in a makeshift changing room that transformed the living room. Pink ribbons, swatches, and pearl necklaces adorned the walls downstairs, where Millar created an ode of sorts to 19th-century genre painting, and delicate vintage plates were fashioned into accessories on reworked gossamer shirts that were surrounded by other miniscule antique store treasures. In comparison to last season’s austere runway show, it’s safe to say this felt atypical for Linder and Millar. It’s the result of a dramatic reimagining of the brand’s retail strategy, which ultimately sets them more in line with their actual creative verve.After spending years attempting to build wholesale relationships and court retailers, often having to split the difference between scalability and accessibility in their designs, Linder and Millar decided to sell directly to consumers, making mostly one-of-one pieces that they’ve crafted completely in-house.This new approach led to an expanded, more affordable collection. Linder handles the womenswear designs and eschewed a cohesive theme in favor of versatility. “I personally don’t have that much of a taste for saying, ‘Here’s the look. Here’s who you’re supposed to be in this, and that’s for this season.’ I don’t really see people buying clothes that way,” Linder said. “People want to wear something that they can incorporate to enhance their identity.” With more pieces to choose from, there’s something for everyone to make their own.In spite of this sprawling collection, which threatened to overwhelm, there were through lines that bound his creations together, like the precise pinning that darted everything from checkered button-downs to a yellow Under Armour pinafore. This new, fully in-house approach also led to greater technical experimentation—Linder was able to generate structure solely with stitching by piling on a zigzag stitch along the shoulders of a shirt. If done in a factory, Linder reasoned this technique would mark up the garment to upwards of $3,000.
Millar, for his part, worked from a collage he made of 19th-century genre paintings that he found on Instagram, which he then turned into a print that appeared on shirts and rugs in collaboration with Scandinavian company Henzel Studio. Last season, Millar’s designs were almost drained of color, which he felt wasn’t authentic to his actual aesthetic leanings. “It’s not really true to who I am, in terms of my apartment even. I just love historical, beautiful fabrics,” Millar says.In kind, Millar reworked old kimonos into breezy button-downs, transformed canary yellow, jewel-encrusted ball gowns into men’s tank tops, and patched vintage, beaded fabric onto blue jeans for a full homespun effect. “We’ve been in this cycle of all new products all the time, and I was just like, I spend most of my time vintage shopping or looking for old treasures, whether it’s clothing or plates. I don’t even shop designer to be perfectly honest,” Millar says. “I started realizing this fantasy of being a fashion designer that I thought I was supposed to be doing, I kind of don’t want to do that anymore. I feel like it’s not authentic. I need to always be making this as personal and as honest as possible.”It’s a shake-up for sure, but after years of trying to toe the line between marketability and their process-oriented approach, Linder and Millar’s newfound sense of freedom is winning.
6 February 2020
At the charming home just a few blocks away from Union Square Park where Linder designers Sam Linder and Kirk Millar simultaneously showed their menswear and womenswear collections this season, women were trying on (and sometimes buying) garments straight off the rack in a makeshift changing room that transformed the living room. Pink ribbons, swatches, and pearl necklaces adorned the walls downstairs, where Millar created an ode of sorts to 19th century genre painting, and delicate vintage plates were fashioned into accessories on reworked gossamer shirts that were surrounded by other miniscule antique store treasures. In comparison to last season’s austere runway show, it’s safe to say this felt atypical for Linder and Millar. It’s the result of a dramatic reimagining of the brand’s retail strategy, which ultimately sets them more in line with their actual creative verve.After spending years attempting to build wholesale relationships and court retailers, often having to split the difference between scalability and accessibility in their designs Linder and Millar decided to sell directly to consumers, making mostly one-of-one pieces that they’ve crafted completely in-house.This new approach led to an expanded, more affordable collection. Linder handles the womenswear designs and eschewed a cohesive theme in favor of versatility. “I personally don’t have that much of a taste for saying, ‘Here’s the look. Here’s who you’re supposed to be in this, and that’s for this season.’ I don’t really see people buying clothes that way,” Linder said. “People want to wear something that they can incorporate to enhance their identity.” With more pieces to choose from, there’s something for everyone to make their own.In spite of this sprawling collection, which threatened to overwhelm, there were throughlines that bound his creations together, like the precise pinning that darted everything from checkered button-downs to a yellow Under Armour pinnie. This new, fully in-house approach also led to greater technical experimentation—Linder was able to generate structure solely with stitching by piling on a zigzag stitch along the shoulders of a shirt. If done in a factory, Linder reasoned this technique would mark up the garment to upwards of $3,000.
Millar, for his part, worked from a collage he made of 19th century genre paintings that he found on Instagram, which he then turned into a print that appeared on shirts and rugs in collaboration with Scandinavian company Henzel Studio. Last season, Millar’s designs were almost drained of color, which he felt wasn’t authentic to his actual aesthetic leanings. “It’s not really true to who I am, in terms of my apartment even. I just love historical, beautiful fabrics,” Millar says.In kind, Millar reworked old kimonos into breezy button-downs, transformed canary yellow, jewel-encrusted ball gowns into men’s tank tops, and patched vintage, beaded fabric onto blue jeans for a full homespun effect. “We’ve been in this cycle of all new products all the time and I was just like, I spend most of my time vintage shopping or looking for old treasures, whether it’s clothing or plates. I don’t even shop designer to be perfectly honest,” Millar says. “I started realizing this fantasy of being a fashion designer that I thought I was supposed to be doing, I kind of don’t want to do that anymore. I feel like it’s not authentic. I need to always be making this as personal and as honest as possible.”It’s a shake-up for sure, but after years of trying to toe the line between marketability and their process-oriented approach, Linder and Millar’s newfound sense of freedom is winning.
6 February 2020
Last season, artist and designer Sam Linder described his approach as “self-collage,” which ultimately translated to a mix of workwear, bohemian ’70s tropes, plaid prints, and even bleached corduroy blazers and culottes made to resemble Japaneseshibori. He’s moved past this collage-like spirit, however, as evidenced in the much more streamlined collection he showed today at the Soho Grand Hotel. Think slouchy, ivory-colored silk crinkle suits; a perfectly fitted little black dress with a gracefully curved neckline; and trousers, jeans, and skirts made with sexy, scoop-shaped waists that Linder pulled off with some kind of tailoring magic.Explaining the thrust of the collection backstage after the show, Linder made it clear he revels in the creative expression that results from limitations. “If there was a direction,” he said, “it was to simplify and get a really clear idea about the classic ingredients of clothing, silhouette, and fabric and not try to make too much of a style statement—just really try to do a good job with specificity and precision.” This only underlined his use of textiles—he made just three of the fabrics in the collection, including a waxy leather that’s somewhat of a signature and a print derived from a photograph of a refrigerator vent that he rendered into a stripe. He stumbled upon the rest of the raw material, such as overstock from eBay or a black fabric that looked like a mix of leather, latex, and silk that a member of his design team based in Italy sourced, claiming he works best in this sort of reactionary mode.Linder said he was thinking a lot about some of the old ’90s runway shows, like those of Prada and Jil Sander, when simplifying his approach. “With Helmut Lang, he would send a guy down the runway in a pair of creased trousers and that’s it, and with Prada, it’s pared down so much that you have to look at the choices that were made on the detail level,” he said. Linder’s own choices, whether those unconventional scooped waistlines or a neckline that he pulled down a bit from the shoulder blade and curved, popped in the same manner. “If you really want to say we put thought into this, I think the simplified way makes more sense,” he said.
8 September 2019
Exactly one week after Sam Linder presented the label’s first women’s Resort collection, designer Kirk Millar—the other half of Linder—was tasked to unveil the new men’s wares, which he did in a Gramercy townhouse at night. The front rooms had been converted into an approximation of a rich kid’s bedroom, the character Millar chose to develop this season: a privileged prep school kid with a sensitive soul and creative leanings, of the kind that is commonly seen in the fashion industry. “It’s very odd, I know, as an inspiration,” he explained of his choice. “But it’s not that I’m celebrating privilege. I’m more talking about how much weight that puts on a character that is much more creative and can’t uphold the expectations of that structure.”Millar blended classic prep design cues with softer artistic motifs in several ways. Think, a minimalist version of a cream cricket sweater, crossed simply with black stripes and paired with penny loafers, themselves playfully embellished with puka shells. A Marinière tank top, created in collaboration with Breton, bore simplified white horse ribbons on the chest, while additional equestrian elements could be seen on pieces like a cool spandex mock-neck printed with saddle bags and silver feed buckets. There was a nice range of items on display, both in terms of wearability and price point. From the cheeky “Trophy Husband” statement polos and tees to the elegant structured cream jacket and shorts with rich leather pockets, there was a little Linder for everyone.
6 June 2019
As heavy rainfall swept across Manhattan tonight, a nonetheless chipper crowd gathered at Pier 59, which had become a tiny oasis. There were palm fronds, mint gimlets, and Sam Linder, standing by as cool as a cucumber. The designer was presenting the first Resort collection for his namesake label: a subversion of country-club dress codes, i.e., a trompe l’oeil print of a cable-knit on a stretchy spandex top. “It’s Resort, so a lot of those stereotypical ideas were floating around,” he explained backstage. “But the idea was comfort and easy to wear. I’m really wanting to go in that direction of catering to the instincts that people have for athleisure without making stuff that falls into that category.”It’s a savvy move, judging by the young crowd that had gathered. Linder’s unconventional athleisure meant little running shorts cut from cream twill and blue silk, as well as an off-white tracksuit made in synthetic ’70s Ultrasuede. “For some reason there’s always a ’70s thing that comes in,” he added. “I guess because I’m from the ’70s.” An unmistakably ’70s shade of lime green flitted throughout the collection, seen on a tight polo shirt with white piping and a spandex mock-neck tee and bike shorts set. Elsewhere, distinctly retro lines appeared on items like a color-blocked tennis dress with a bias-cut silk skirt below and a low square-neck tank top. One wanted Linder to dive a little deeper into his Resort world, though that will likely come with time. Consider this but a dip of the toe into the country-club pool.
1 June 2019
A large part ofLinder’s appeal lies in its magpie approach—that is, its compact fusion of eclectic references. And so today, in a fittingly intimate crush of a space, elements of workwear and sportswear, as well as ’70s bohemia and a dash of Arts and Crafts, clashed in an intentional, thoughtful, artful way.As much a visual artist as he is a fashion designer, Sam Linder has a name for this juxtaposition of tropes: self-collage. Articulating key looks backstage, he explained how a canvas-color corduroy blazer and culottes had been folded then sprayed with bleach or paint to create a shadow effect resembling Japaneseshibori. Pretty heady stuff, though nicely counterbalanced with ample use of stretch spandex printed with red buffalo plaid.More workwear showed up in an array of moleskin that had been patch-worked with satin, the same satin used for athletic jerseys or in a wisp of a gown spray-stenciled at the neckline using chain necklaces or crystal pearls supplied by Swarovski. A stash of red suede left over from a previous season was turned into a tunic adorned with zippers.Knits were also given the mash-up treatment in the form of snug sweaters rendered in both shaggy alpaca and slick viscose. Accessories, too. Linder collaborated with comfort experts Mephisto on all-white sneakers, bestowing orthopedic cool, as well as with Café du Cycliste on retro tube socks, neck warmers, caps, and arm sleeves.“Ultimately,” Linder mused, “the aim for Fall was to create a variety of separates that stand on their own rather than fit into an overall look or lifestyle.” Add to that a soundtrack of Persian funk for a thoroughly interdisciplinary, multi-referential experience.
8 February 2019
For Fall, Linder’s menswear lead, Kirk Millar, filtered his deeply personal take on fashion through anecdotal avatars: the Romanov family. “Their story is sort of an allegory for the fashion industry,” said the designer in Paris this afternoon. “Once powerful, but to have that power eradicated . . .”Touchy stuff, but the legend and intrigue around the Romanovs retains plenty of ornateness to diffuse—“sort of like the way Sofia Coppola took Marie Antoinette and made it like . . . Los Angeles girls gossiping,” said Millar. The overall point being: Established structures, norms, and ways are not impenetrable, no matter the context, and they eventually either morph . . . or crumble. Millar was trying to find some creative petrol in that, without being too forcibly outspoken. There was lots to like therein.See: diamond-printed spandex—a kind of sicko concept, like armor for the headily wealthy—or naïf-sketch appliqués reinterpreted from drawings Alexei Romanov made long ago. Likewise lightweight boxer-esque shorts with a little cameo detail on the thigh. A lavish handwritten signature appeared on a jumper, while another artwork redux, this time the paintingRed Cavalry Ridingby Kazimir Malevich, was banded around sleeves and hems. The motif featured horses, which also got Millar thinking about Western tropes; he created semi-“pulpy”-movie poster tees, with the faces of the Romanov family juxtaposed against saloon-style fonts. (Also, worth mentioning, he self-photographed this entire lookbook—an uncommon occurrence with designers.)“I feel that fashion is now missing the catalyst of being able to imagine, or dream wildly, through the images we’re seeing,” concluded Millar. “It’s a dark theme, but ultimately it’s about the fantasy.”
15 January 2019
Unusually for a young partnership, and probably for very pragmatic reasons, Linder’s founders draw a clear distinction between women’s and men’s. The former is designed by Sam Linder, the latter by Kirk Millar, both with an eye for the artfully awkward. Today it was the women’s side that had the spotlight. Models each took a choreographed turn at a full-length mirror while an authoritative, if smarmy, voice gave a description of each look, à la runway shows of yore.Though still a hatchling on the New York scene, this art-minded label asserts a seasoned aura. Today’s outing mined a slightly louche ’70s eclecticism centered around a series of superb long coats, particularly a hand-dyed multicolored leather version that looked cobbled together out of painted canvas. Other dusters were rendered in barely-there lightweight nylon, including a pale blue piece that Linder said he nearly left out when the team mentioned its likeness to a plastic recycling bag, then decided to keep it in for that very reason. That pale blue reappeared as another eye-catcher that should have raised the hackles of everyone in the room, a corduroy pantsuit—with unusual knee darts and other “body morphing” details, according to that voice—that actually felt reasonable precisely for its outré-ness.A recurring plaid motif appeared first as stretchy spandex cycling shorts—which garnered some “eye-rolling from others in the studio,” said Linder, for their athleisure connotations—and again in non-stretch nylon permutations. Stripes supplied a retro feel to cardigans, particularly a Japanese wool cardi in saturated crayon hues and a sleeveless “grandpa” sort. Denim jackets and jeans with a curved seam around the derriere took inspiration from the “butt lift” fad of the ’70s, while pockets surfaced everywhere, some of them functional, others just the decorative flap. As offbeat as the rest, shoes were geometric, block-heeled suede boots, or sandals worn with socks that bunched up at the toe strap. Slouchy square bags were handcrafted from a ropy textile on centuries-old looms at the Vermont farm where Linder grew up. Long ago, he said, his parents invited a master weaver to work out of the barn; his apprentice continues to toil there now.
7 September 2018
Kirk Millar’s men’s component at Linder, the label he co-represents with Sam Linder, is remarkable in its tough-to-shake levels of sensitivity. This felt compounded by the staggeringlackof sensitivity seen elsewhere in the world of late—Melania Trump’s idiotic Zara jacket choice and the larger context around it topping that list. Men’s fashion this season, though, is coming through in both its consciousness and its full heart: At Louis Vuitton, Virgil Abloh wiped the slate clean, but instead of leaving blankness in its place, he populated that slate with every hue of the spectrum. Earlier, Martine Rose sketched a love letter to London. Millar, for Spring, has rendered a tender telling, a semi-narrative sartorial arc, of a gay man valuing family and looking for commitment.Last season, his story was about self-admittance and self-acceptance. This time, he looked at fantasies, legacies, and resiliencies, all orbiting around love. An intarsia set of jumpers rather sweetly featured interpretations of drawings that his great grandmother had kept (they were drawn by her own children). Down the sleeves were different flowers she’d cut out from gardening magazines in the ‘60s. That level of respect and familial admiration is fathoms-into-the-heart deep. And, even without backstory, they looked good.Companionship and partnership was furthered elsewhere, like on a T-shirt of two dachshunds with the phrase “Best Friend” scripted above them, or on a tank that said “Boyfriend” (heart over theI) in Millar’s handwriting. In more indirect messaging, the designer also introduced wedding-readyguayaberasand a collaboration with the Parisian brand Chapal on leather jackets, bags, shoes, and gloves.To all the points made above, collaborations have become so commonplace that they often tend to lack a bit in soul. Not so here. You could really feel what Millar was trying to do, both with Chapal, and omnisciently. Humanity—though it should be obvious—goes a very long way.
22 June 2018
As revealed over the just-concluded menswear season, Linder’s Sam Linder and Kirk Millar have, amicably, divided their responsibilities. Millar proffered a strong, deeply personal men’s lineup in Paris. This afternoon in New York, Linder stepped up to the plate (or, let’s say altar) to show his women’s line. It too was solid. While it was not as introspective as the men’s, it was thought-provoking at a level beyond which these two have achieved in recent memory. “I think we both got a lot more out of ourselves,” Linder said backstage.Fall appeared to be loosely divided into three categories: the aquatic, the lunar, and the aflame. All of it was informed by an occult source—a meter of paganism inspired by Artemis, the goddess of the forest and the hunt. (Linder hit a bull’s-eye today with novelty bags swinging on chains from archery bows.) “I was trying to think of a woman who is not dressing for a man at all,” said the designer as a general manifesto.A halter dress was printed with a waterfall; a teal suit had a built-in frame bag; a cauldron-gold velvet dress, dashed to scraps over ribbed-knit leggings, moved with melted ore-like liquidity; a finale gown featured a roaring bonfire motif. Between each section, a model carrying an orb-like clutch cleansed the ostensible cosmic palette. And while the clothes sometimes felt a little stuffy (Linder himself acknowledged a “granny” vibe in his show notes), the message behind it all burned with inquiry: Are we hell-bound, heading towards inferno? Are things so crazy that, to find some kind of rhythm, we have to turn to mythology for steadiness? Is the once lush earth permanently scorched? This collection did not mesmerize, but, like the pull of the moon both physically and in lore, it had serious gravity. We’re liking Linder as a two-lane operation.
9 February 2018
In a first move for this New York–based label, Linder is going for double exposure: revealing its Fall men’s collection in Paris this week by appointment only, and then on a wider scale, in a fortnight’s time, in Manhattan with a standard presentation. Fundamentally, the move makes sense: It’s well known that a fair few more international buyers come to Paris over New York City, and given Linder’s uniquely layered, consciously askew, and rare-for–New York cerebrally weird touch, it may very well find fresh doors in more fashion-experimental regions.There’s another development in house, too: Kirk Millar has taken over menswear exclusively, while Sam Linder will run women’s. Of course they will confer and converse, but each will now have their own dedicated lane, so to speak. And given the deeply personal, almost moving (as moving as clothing can be, at least) outcome of Millar’s first solo men’s lineup, this too appears to be a savvy division of tactics: It was the best Linder men’s collection in recent memory.“[The clothes] examine the pressure young homosexual men feel to fit within culture’s idea of what makes a man. For example: toughness, aggression, physical strength, et cetera,” said Millar via a note in his Le Marais showroom. On one level, there were softened visions of hardened tropes, like military coats or parkas. Inside, the garments were lined with scanned pages of poetry and flowers from the books of Constantine Cavafy, Hart Crane, and Walt Whitman. The reveal represented the “intense inner self that is painstakingly hidden from the outside.”But the overriding message in the output wasn’t so literal as a tough facade with a kaleidoscopic secret. Rather, the thinking was blended: a V-neck T-shirt, simple and black and universal, was woven with a dog-tag necklace, almost as if it was something grander, a piece of fine jewelry. Belts had electric prong finishes—representing a certain male appendage—while sweeter moments surfaced with a hoodie inlaid with a heart, a pink cargo corduroy vest, and more surface treatment prints of that lovely, lost-era prose. The male symbol (you know, the circle and the arrow) on shoes was a little too “Austin Powers kitsch,” but other than that, this was Millar illustrating his great capability through singular, and even likely a bit painful, sensitivity.
20 January 2018
For Spring, Linder’s Sam Linder and Kirk Millar showed their first-ever full womenswear collection—and it was good enough to wonder, what took them so long? Somehow, their standalone oddness—which commingles a bit of grunge with textile manipulations, and a bit of bohemia with idiosyncratic urbane gloss—worked well, almost better than with their menswear. As Millar said backstage: “It’s us, but there’s maybe more wearability.” Linder bolstered that with: “It’s Linder, but . . . baked in, if that makes sense.”It did. The pair mentioned an emphasis on “flowery” shaped tops with narrower bottoms—a silhouette that would get so skinny, in fact, that a number of wildly high, hip-bone-choking thongs walked the runway. Wrapped and draped tops, or jackets with thick woven bands, fell over “hack” or “crater” skirts, which featured arcing thigh cutouts—some of these even had prints of crossed pistols. (Very obtusely, there appeared to be a Western theme at play throughout.) Those guns, including AK-47s, were imitated elsewhere, one screened, extra-large, down a flowing white and long-sleeved dress. Minty and light tops and dresses had diagrammatic eye motifs, while chains were used as body jewelry accents, crossing the exposed midsections of dresses. Linder and Millar have seen success before with denim, particularly with their use of rivets on denim, and fans won’t be disappointed in this category as new iterations appeared today, some with graphic grease-stained creases.Millar mentioned that the vibe was slightly “aggressive.” Confidently aggressive? “A little . . . nasty,” answered Linder, possibly in negation to the query. But the mystery—that pleasant takeaway question mark the label inevitably leaves you with—is what makes Linder and Millar’s work as interesting as it is. It makes you think, or at least do a double take. And, as Millar said, lots of it was very sellable.
8 September 2017
Here’s an idea for a rather sickly lush accessorizing trick: Wear a diamond tennis bracelet as a pseudo-hoop earring. That’s what Linder’s Sam Linder and Kirk Millar envisioned for Spring, and with it, a bloodline of complementary unexpected (though sometimes awkward) glamour. (Unlike last season, there were no women in today’s show, but we could see the hoops being worn by both sexes.)“We looked at the man who kind of nerds out on function,” said Millar, highlighting the modularity of certain pieces (pants that could become shorts, adorned topcoats that could be de-sleeved). “And went for it with decoration,” added Linder. “If there was a literal reference, it was probably early-2000s music videos.”Jeans sat at barely hanging-on levels. They were also wide and pooled, and washed with consciously garish treatments. One pair had belt loops—complete with a diamanté ribbon belt—around the mid-thigh. These did indeed invoke the style of early-aughts MTV. The duo’s examination of utility was most evident with a pair of short shorts, under which iridescent innards flapped loose. These were interesting, and even slightly charming.We’re not sure if the models were instructed to act awkwardly or not, but there was a bit of odd tension in the tiny, hot room. The same could be said of some of the clothes, like a singlet withLinderspelled across the stomach of a pleated zip-shirt/bolero sort of thing. Ultimately, the most persuasive things about Linder and Millar’s work today were its instances of indulgence—those tennis bracelet earrings being the literal icing on the cake.
13 July 2017
Linder’s Sam Linder and Kirk Millar revealed their first-ever dedicated womenswear collection today, shown concurrently with their existing menswear line. However, the duo was quick to note that this wasn’t done to indicate a move toward gender neutrality. “We wanted to be very clear as to what was made for a woman and what was made for a man,” said Millar. “We’re acknowledging the differences between the male body and the female body.”One of these differences was made abundantly clear when a model walked in a pair of jeans with a bulging codpiece—clearly meant to imply an erection. The intentional, overtly crude attempt at humor underscored their tenor; seeing a woman with a mock erection is shocking and thus reinforces the “difference” between male- and female-bodied individuals. Bodies, at least conceptually, would inform other elements of Linder’s Fall collection—hair wefts were woven in at the armpit or on the shoulder of dresses for women, while deer hide was manipulated into a tabbed skirt; ostrich skin was cut into a smart, slick, borderline sketchy jacket for men. Skin, hair, fur, form—there was something of a grotesque, “ancient” hand at play. It certainly warrants consideration.There was also a noticeable skein of “dirty” glamour (Millar’s word). For women, voluminous denim dresses, complete with the kind of butt pockets normally seen on jeans. Ditto embroidered sheer tops and loose pants, silvered like an old disco ball. For men, a derriere-highlighting cropped leather jacket styled over black trousers with contrasting white piping and a high-camp, floor-sweeping fur coat fit the bill. Bolstering this verve, Linder summed up the amalgam with a grin: “The through-line is that it should be fun.”
10 February 2017
Linder’s Sam Linder and Kirk Millar revealed their first-ever dedicated womenswear collection today, shown concurrently with their existing menswear line. However, the duo was quick to note that this wasn’t done to indicate a move toward gender neutrality. “We wanted to be very clear as to what was made for a woman and what was made for a man,” said Millar. “We’re acknowledging the differences between the male body and the female body.”One of these differences was made abundantly clear when a model walked in a pair of jeans with a bulging codpiece—clearly meant to imply an erection. The intentional, overtly crude attempt at humor underscored their tenor; seeing a woman with a mock erection is shocking and thus reinforces the “difference” between male- and female-bodied individuals. Bodies, at least conceptually, would inform other elements of Linder’s Fall collection—hair wefts were woven in at the armpit or on the shoulder of dresses for women, while deer hide was manipulated into a tabbed skirt; ostrich skin was cut into a smart, slick, borderline sketchy jacket for men. Skin, hair, fur, form—there was something of a grotesque, “ancient” hand at play. It certainly warrants consideration.There was also a noticeable skein of “dirty” glamour (Millar’s word). For women, voluminous denim dresses, complete with the kind of butt pockets normally seen on jeans. Ditto embroidered sheer tops and loose pants, silvered like an old disco ball. For men, a derriere-highlighting cropped leather jacket styled over black trousers with contrasting white piping and a high-camp, floor-sweeping fur coat fit the bill. Bolstering this verve, Linder summed up the amalgam with a grin: “The through-line is that it should be fun.”
10 February 2017
Dark horse menswear label Linder—designed by Sam Linder and Kirk Millar—had some undeniably great pieces in its Spring collection today. As the models at the label’s first-ever runway show made their slowed loop around New York City’s Dixon Place theater, the tally grew: a green suede workman’s vest, knitted gym shorts, rivet-embellished loose-fit jeans, re-proportioned jersey sweatshirts, and brilliant “wilting cross” silver jewelry (essentially, Christian crosses melted to look more likeT's) were all very, very strong.“The materials are on the more humble end of the spectrum,” said Linder backstage. And while the catwalk’s overall impression was utilitarian in texture and construct, there was also a duality apparent, a “tension” between utility and an almost dreamlike softness. See: a squiggly-closured cardigan, which was surf-artsy, or a T-shirt screen-printed with a garment worker, which was meta-ironic yet simple as can be.Where the guys might’ve benefitted was in an editing realm; alternating sleeve volumes or disjointed inseam lengths hit the back-and-forth conceit too squarely, and seemed a little project-y in the making. The best stuff, and what had people talking afterwards, was the aforementioned denim; on many pairs, Linder and Millar applied some 1,600 rivets, and the effect was arresting. “We wanted to take your everyday pair of jeans and basically make them feel like women’s gowns . . . with that heaviness,” said Millar. Added Linder: “They sort of look like sequins.”
11 July 2016