Design diva Ranna says what she thinks

Eilish Kidd, Contributor, Jakarta

I ask Ranna Gill if she's ever disappointed when she sees someone wearing her clothes.

The kohl-rimmed eyes open wider, the candy pink lips tremble. Suddenly this fashion trendsetter seems as vulnerable as a little girl. Her voice drops.

"So many times," she whispers. "Somebody very -- large -- or something."

I nod, kind of awed.

"You work for three months to put a collection together -- sketching, designing, thinking, crying, hurting, head aching - not taking time off, just working constantly, furiously -- and then your first piece is sold to ... " Ranna hesitates.

"Just some completely non-descript ... "

She corrects herself: "Non-descript is good. I have no problem with non-descript. But some tacky ... "

Such artistic sensitivities are no surprise in a woman who likens completing a collection to postnatal depression.

And Ranna Gill has paid her dues. She studied in her homeland of India and New York and interned with Donna Karan before doing a stint at Polo-Ralph Lauren. She has had her own label, RANNA, since 1996 and is on the board of the Fashion Design Council of India.

So who would Ranna like to dress?

"Dancers, they are very poised. I don't mean pop-stars -- not red-carpet Hollywood actresses. A real dancer dresses very bohemian. I mean, they can wear a pair of jeans with a big bindi, with a jacket, with bangles -- I mean it's very fun!"

And how about Westerners who adopt an ethnic look?

"They're trying," she concedes. "But you have to do it in small doses. If you're trying to wear the kebaya (Javanese traditional blouse) or the kimono or the kurta (tunic-style top) -- I think you should do it with jeans."

For a diva of design, Ranna is refreshingly patient with the style-challenged. But not with the faint of heart.

"If you're a bit weak and looking around -- 'oh but what should we do' -- then it's never going to happen."

Ranna Gill is here to showcase her clothes at a five-star hotel. Jakarta's princesses of style -- particularly those of Indian ethnicity -- are expected to descend upon the assorted saris, kurti (embroidered blouses) and Indo-Western ensembles in anticipation of this year's Diwali parties. Word is that the Hindu festival of illuminations inspires some fairly competitive social activity.

Ranna's collection hangs on two racks in the room where we meet. Once I get over the tribal angle, a pink-ocelot print and a few other undesirable garments, I am sweetly surprised. I unfurl a five-meter-long embroidered sari with a William Morris inspired "tree of life" in anchor wool. I lightly touch a bodice in Wedgwood blue with white filigree.

And I'm brought to actually smile at a kurti, with tiny patchwork elements, that has a kind of folky harmony.

There, a tiny trail of yellow sequins seeping into turquoise. There, subdued grays, like inky islands, asymmetrical and tear- smeared. A gentle humor washes through the designs. These are things I'd like to own.

So where did it come from, this very particular esthetic?

What Ranna remembers most about childhood is the color.

"Fuschia with yellow, with parrot-green, tangerine, indigo. Sometimes the colors were so ugly together that they looked beautiful." (Ah, thus the yellow and red ensemble).

But actually most of her garments begin with an impoverished hue: "It's from nothing. Its basically from gray fabric." Ranna's process involves dyeing or printing the fabric, then cutting and adding embellishments -- such as embroidered arabesques.

It's an attention to detail that recalls a traditional approach to clothes and a feeling for "craft" that is all too often absent, even from many of the top labels.

Ranna Gill takes inspiration from books -- a sentence, even a word -- but doesn't care much for television. She likes Alexander McQueen ("Quite a bit frankly.") And she shops at Shanghai Tang in Hong Kong.

So what of people who dismiss fashion as an unnecessary extravagance?

"Oh, bullshit!" comes the pleasing reply. "As anyone who knows anything would know." And besides, she adds, "Money is not an evil. If they have it, good for them!"

Ranna explains that India has a history of textiles ("Frankly the envy of most European countries") and perhaps, in this heritage, she has been lucky. She read Archie comics as a child, admiring Betty and Veronica in their mini-skirts.

But Indian comics were what really captured her imagination. People in Indian in them wear costumes not merely clothes.

Truly, fashion in India is no trivial thing. Perhaps it is something that is imbibed. Ranna knows it: "In our breeding, if you ask me the truth."

And how does Jakarta strike the famous designer? She says that Jakarta is just like Delhi (but with Indonesians running around, not Indians).

"I see a lot of kaftans, people wearing headbands -- It's very beautiful by the way."

Jakarta?

Ranna looks at me as though I'm a moron: "The textiles, the batik -- it's endless. You could make collections on this for years."

Now I'm aware of a group of slim, poised young women arriving in the elevator. Oh dear. Ranna hasn't even started pricing the clothes yet.

I'm sorry to finish the interview. I have enjoyed talking to Ranna.

In an industry renowned for superficiality, Ranna Gill is a genuine original. As she herself points out: "You see a well- turned-out woman -- anywhere in the world. She can go so far but then after a while she does have to open her mouth and talk."