Indonesia enters international fashion stage

By Dini S. Djalal

JAKARTA (JP): Indonesia's designers must be feeling dizzy from the recent attentions of the international fashion community. First, there was the CNN feature in June on Indonesia's top designers Biyan, Prajudi, and Ghea Sukarya. Then, last week, Indonesia held its first international-level fashion design competition, at the Sahid Jaya Hotel, the Asia Fashion Design Competition 1995. It was jointly put together by the Indonesian Fashion Designers Association and the National Design Center.

It was an ambitious feat, like many of the other events held as part of Indonesia's 50th anniversary celebrations. In many ways, it was a great success. It assembled an impressive panel of judges, among them French Vogue's Fashion Editor-in-Chief Gabrielle Capitain, Japanese fashion designer Hiroko Koshino, and premier batik designer Iwan Tirta. Eight countries -- Indonesia, India, South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, the Philippines, Malaysia, and Singapore -- submitted contestants. The event attracted the international fanfare it had hoped for.

But you can't please all of the people all of the time. As the show unfolded, disappointment became evident on several faces. Some of the designers did not follow the criteria of using local textiles. Others yet did not seem to understand the culture they were paying homage to. When the winners were announced, the disappointment lingered for some.

The winner was 25 year-old Yeon-Soo Kil, winner of South Korea's 1994 Fashion Design Contest. She was deserving of her prize, presenting a collection that integrated both contemporary wearability and the traditions of her country. For the nine required outfits (three casual wear, three office wear, and three cocktail dresses), she injected both elegance and verve, never over-doing it with either accessories, or patterns.

The first three ensembles were black-and-white shift-dresses and capri pants, in mixed linens and silks. Models waved paper fans decorated with the same calligraphic insignias as was on the clothes. After this show of subdued elegance, the next three outfits appeared like lightning bolts. Again, Yeon-Soo used crisp white linen for her blouses, which were then accentuated by vibrantly-colored geometric crests, or covered by a technicolor sleeveless dress of waistcoat. The bright silks were fetching, without being over-the-top, and the matching paper bags the models carried were beautiful understatements of grace.

The evening wear was even better. The same white linen was used, voluminously, for the sculptural ball gowns, ballooning with the assistance of underwiring. One does not need a PhD in Korean arts to sense the intelligent reverence for traditional Korean culture. I only wished they could have translated the Korean calligraphy streaming down the stretch of black satin worn by a particularly stoic-faced model.

However, some still contested on the merits of Yeon-See's creations. In her defense, Gabrielle Capitain, a seasoned veteran of fashion trends, asserted at the following press conference, "Yeon-See fulfilled all the criteria; wearability and use of traditional textiles." For winning first-place, Yeon-See receives a prize of US$ 15,000.

Asmat designs

The second-place winner, Indonesian contestant Nanung Nurhayati, winner of the 1995 Indonesian Fashion Competition, may also be seen as fulfilling the criteria. Her earth-colored linen ensembles were exquisitely embroidered in Asmat designs. One outfit -- cut-out trousers and a sculpted corset -- was a literal interpretation of an Asmat totem pole.

However, some in the audience felt it unfair that she utilized Irianese dancers and musicians onstage to complement her collection. Observers complained that the added entertainment upstage the other designers' collections. More importantly, the presence of half-naked indigenous men engaged in a tribal ritual was incongruous with the basic premise of a fashion show: to provide glamour to those who can afford it. Nanung contends that she wanted to show the audience where her inspirations came from. Yet the nose rings the models wore posed as a contradiction to Nanung's cultural sensitivity: the Asmat proudly wear their rings in the middle, and not in the side nostril.

Third prize went to Chang Lee Yugin of Taiwan. Chang Lee's gold satin designs showed a diversity of influence. She combined traditional Chinese-dragon embroidery with Grecian classical drapery and space-age silver and plastic accessories. Perhaps this is a nod to Taiwan's accelerated development, which has allowed for material modernity, while adhering to the tenets of Confucianism.

The only common thread in her collection seemed to be the spaghetti-thin black belts which fastened sarong skirts, wide trousers, and apron dresses. But the leap from the see-through plastic hats (worn with synthetic suits and see-through trousers), to the woven bamboo fedoras (worn with quaint cotton shirts and flip-flops), seemed too wide: are we zooming by jet from the glass-encased skyscrapers of Taipei to the peasant villages in the countryside?

The recipient of the Special Mention Award, Manish Arora of India, may answer this question with a self-assured, "Who cares?" Arora's outlandish collection was the favorite of the audience, and garnered ecstatic applause from beginning to end. Was it wearable? Not particularly. Was it commercial? Perhaps among fashion students. Was it great? Without a doubt. Arora's creations may be a bit much for the average shopping mall, but then India does not have very many shopping malls, and this is precisely what is communicated in his show.

Genius

The opening was genius. A sassy model strolled out bearing a Miss India ribbon across the protruding belly underneath her hot- pink tutu. On her feet were boots made of colorful pom-poms atop a brick of a heel. Yes, a brick, and a gold brick at that.

To most of the audience, it was a sensational spectacle in itself. But Arora explains that in India, jurists prohibited him depicting a pregnant, unmarried woman. When he arrived in Jakarta, he forgot the restrictions and went ahead with his mockery of beauty-pageant culture.

Arora may be sending up the transitional societies of developing countries, but he has full respect for his Indian heritage. "When the judges first saw my clothes, they immediately said, This is India," he said. And it was not only the India of anthropological textbooks, but also a grassroots understanding of the idiosyncrasies of the culture. One outfit had money and garlands on the crinoline skirt, just like bridegrooms, who wear money to their weddings, to signify prosperity.

Other ensembles were just as laden with cultural references. The finale was a long dress of flowered chintz (or cheenth in Hindi), its many layers held up by the many wooden hands poking out of the models' sides. Here was Kali, one of Hindu India's most revered goddesses, onstage in Jakarta! The scene was so proudly Indian, yet without the sense of self-importance which weighed down the other collections.

Another contribution of Arora's was the effortless comprehension of the Rajasthani culture which he portrayed. The embroidery and mirror-applique of his backless (or frontless) cholis were brilliant, and conveyed his appreciation of these handicrafts. Yet he acknowledged the cultural changes accompanying economic development, and many of his fabrics were actually polyester.

"You can only get cotton in the villages now. In the cities, they prefer polyester because it is cheaper and lasts longer," Arora said.

Yet Arora maintained traditional silhouettes. "You know, there is not much western clothes in Delhi (where he lives), you have to go to Bombay for that. Delhi is more conservative, most people still wear traditional dress," he said. As for his seemingly irreverent take on fashion, Arora answers intelligently, "I don't want to do serious clothes. Even in India, I did a collection mocking British costumes. I made a man wear a corset with metal cups on his breasts, because in the olden days, men used to take more time to dress up," he said.

So he will pursue a career in fashion?

"Well, I don't have an alternative career in mind. For my work with Rohit Bal (India's leading fashion designer), I make some wearable clothes. It's not like I can't design wearable clothes, but I like designing clothes that are larger-than-life."

For all his talent, however, Arora is lucky that he has access to funding, to channel his creativity. New Delhi's National Fashion Institute of India financed his collection, as they did another finalist of a national design competition.

"It was very straight and fair. I joined the competition, and the school supported the two finalists to come to Jakarta," he said.

Indonesia's fashion students have no such comforts.

"The Indonesian contestants funded their collections themselves," Koos Arumdani, one of the show's organizers, said.

Indonesia may be working to enter the international fashion stage, but the support systems to enable local designers to rise to that stage has yet to be established.