Indonesia enters international fashion stage

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.