Design diva Ranna says what she thinks

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."