The Next Big Names In Fashion

This may be the first time you've heard of fashion labels Thakoon, Doo.ri and Rodarte, but it won't be the last. Meet the nominees for this year's emerging talent award from the prestigious Council of Fashion Designers of America.

In a business that's all about buzz, Thakoon, Doo.ri and Rodarte are the names on the lips of fashion insiders 3these days.

Doo.ri won the Swarovski Perry Ellis Prize at the CFDA annual awards event on June 5, 2006.

But for all three newcomers, simply having the attention of the press, retailers, stylists and top-tier designers who select the nominees could help push these up-and-comers toward 2style stardom. Previous winners include Zac Posen and Derek Lam, now considered must-sees at New York Fashion Week.

Here are the three nominees for this year's top CFDA award for young talent. Click on the images at the left of this page for highlights of their most recent collections.

RODARTE
Sisters Laura and Kate Mulleavy didn't know fashion was their thing until they were at the University of California at Berkeley and wondering what they were doing there other than following a family tradition.

The Mulleavys were raised by an artist mother and botanist father in Northern California, surrounded by redwood trees and greenhouses. The relationship they witnessed between trees and shadows greatly influences their work today, says 25-year-old Laura Mulleavy. Kate Mulleavy is 27.

The sisters both started drawing at age five.

"Mom wanted us to be really exposed to the arts," Laura Mulleavy says. "We also had a lot of science and math since dad was a scientist, but he was interested in photography, too. He took photos of spores and mushrooms, which are the most amazing abstract patterns."

When they started Rodarte, they didn't have a plan, Laura Mulleavy says, but they did have a vision.

"We didn't have an internship or a class on production, things you need to learn about, but we knew we wanted to do it so we had to make it happen," she says. "We started reading couture sewing books."

For fall 2005, Rodarte produced 10 pieces, but Laura Mulleavy says they didn't know how to get anyone to see them.

"We're in Pasadena and completely removed from fashion. We had never even been to New York City," she says. "We knew all the names but not the people."

They gambled with a letter to Cameron Silver, a well-known Los Angeles stylist and owner of the vintage store Decades. They asked for him to review the collection, which he liked. Since then, Silver has evolved into a mentor.

They brought that collection to New York without having a single appointment booked, but Kate Mulleavy had sent out clever "lookbooks" made of paper dolls to top editors. "We sat in a room waiting for the phone to ring. Finally, 'Women's Wear Daily' called us in and three days later we were on the cover."

Four stores bought pieces from that collection.

By spring '06, the collection grew to 16 looks, building on the sophistication that's becoming the Rodarte trademark. But the size of the line will always be limited by the complicated cascades of fabrics and their atelier-only production.

"Start to finish, each piece is made one at a time," Kate Mulleavy says. "We pin each one on a form. Most pieces take forever to make, but, in the end, they're really beautiful and special."

One knee-length cocktail dress recently took almost 100 hours to make.

Don't expect to see a Mulleavy in one of her own dresses, though.

"We don't normally wear our own clothes. There are two reasons. Right now, out of functionality, everything we do is put back into the business. We're self-funded," Laura Mulleavy explains. "Also, when you're sewing, you need to be comfortable all day. I normally wear pants and a simple top."

He sees the formality and modesty that's inherent in Thai culture in his clothes, and he has an affinity for gold and metallics.

"Those are very Thai, too," he says. Spending his early school years in the Midwest made him thoughtful and introspective, especially in his drawings.

He also sees elements of classic American sportswear in his otherwise urban designs, probably the influence of the women he saw growing up near the Air Force base in Bellevue, Neb.

Panichgul's business degree from Boston University, his first fashion job at J.Crew and his short career as an editor at "Harper's Bazaar" figure into his overall style as well.

"I look at it all as schooling," he says during an interview at his spare yet bright studio in Manhattan's Tribeca district.

Eventually Panichgul, 31, got a formal fashion education at Parsons School of Design and produced his first collection in 2004.

It was a blend of camera-ready dresses and retail-friendly separates. His magazine experience taught him what would get him the good press that aspiring designers need to catch on, while the business school background nudged him toward clothes that regular folks — affluent regular folks — will buy.

"I still do a lot of black things," he says. "Editors hate black, but you know, there's never enough black for a real woman. ... My skinny black pant is the fall best-seller. It's a balance — suits and black pants versus my version of evening dresses. They're shorter and easier to wear, not formal or stiff. I love designing dresses, they're my favorite to design."

Either way, the goal is to offer pieces with "impact," Panichgul says. One of his favorite techniques is to play with the back of an outfit. His favorite piece from the current collection is a dress with an open back and black-and-white bows.

"It's unexpected. I think clothes can be playful and sophisticated," he says.

Showing gowns is an acknowledgment of how important dressing celebrities has become. Panichgul already has worked with Rachel Bilson and Amanda Peet but says he's not actively pursuing stars for the magazine credit.

"In this new fashion climate, to compete with the big guys and grow the brand, celebrities are important. But I don't seek them. It has to be organic," he says.

Menswear is more personal. "A men's line would make my life easier. I don't live in Tokyo so I don't have access to my size," the 5-foot-4-inch designer says with a laugh. "I wear basics. I don't have much else to wear. I did get a black suit for the Met (Costume Institute) gala, but the jacket was a bit long."

His "uniform," he says, is a white polo shirt, jeans and a blue cardigan that fits him like a glove — bought in Tokyo.

After attending Parsons School of Design, Chung worked for the late Geoffrey Beene. He was "the best graduate school I could have had," she says. She praises Beene as "the most important designer of American fashion" and says it was from him that she learned the importance of draping and movement of garments.

When she formed her own label, Beene was her biggest supporter.

Back then, Chung says she was confident in her talent but didn't know quite how to handle press, celebrities and the hoopla that surrounds a fashion show.

"I thought our first show would be family and friends. Turned out 'Vogue' wanted to see it. Style.com came. It was more attention than we expected, and four stores bought that collection. That's from zero to 4, and each season we've doubled stores, people and press," a beaming Chung says. "I didn't want to design in obscurity."

A young designer who wants a long career needs to carve a niche, she says, and working with jersey is hers. She learned about jersey from Beene, considered the master of the fabric, but instead of keeping it close to the body like he did, Chung likes to see it flow.

"Stiff tailoring isn't my thing," she says. "I like movement. I think women are more beautiful in softer, feminine clothes. I think it takes a strong woman to wear something soft and loose."

She also tends to embrace complicated patterns. One raincoat was made from 40 pieces.

"I like clean and minimal but not cold. I'm sort of like my clothes — there's no kitsch, no clutter, but there's warmth," Chung says.

An interest in illustration first drew her to fashion, when she was a suburban New Jersey teenager. Imitating the elongated proportions used in fashion illustrations led to actual draping of fabric.

Chung, who was born in Korea but moved to the United States at age 4, is preparing for her eighth runway show. The next milestone will be walking down the street and seeing a woman wearing Doo.ri clothes.

"Someone out there is buying it, so it could happen," she says. "I did see a dress at the Costume Institute gala and it wasn't a sample!"

But she is brought down to Earth each time one of her garments requires a zipper. She still doesn't know how to sew one in. Her mother comes to the studio and does it for her.

Chung says her parents are pleased and even a bit surprised at her brand's success, but they still care most about whether she's eating well.

"My parents do bring me Korean food during show time because then I get too busy to eat," she says.