Ramli toasts 20th anniversary in fashion business

Ramli toasts 20th anniversary in fashion business

By Dini S. Djalal

JAKARTA (JP): This week, after three dizzying weeks in Paris
and Milan, fashion pundits from around the world arrive in New
York for the Spring 1996 shows. It's both an exciting and trying
time for fashion editors, as they must sit through dozens of
fashion shows. The most-awaited shows are precisely that: the
ones that keep you waiting with countless delays.

In Jakarta, delays similarly test your patience. But while
fashion editors in Europe sleep behind dark sunglasses while
waiting (why do you think they wear them all the time?), Jakarta
audiences take comfort in the banquet preparations. Fashion shows
here are not mere shows, but bona fide events with 5-course
meals.

Ramli's fashion show last week was no exception. Six hundred
guests gathered at Hotel Sahid Jaya's Puri Agung Ballroom to
celebrate Ramli's 20th year as a designer. Thursday's show was
Ramli's third that week -- his collections were also shown at
three other events at the hotel that week, including the Sahid
Jaya Awards Night on Friday.

With the exception of batik artist Iwan Tirta, Ramli is
arguably the only designer in Indonesia who can annually stage a
solo show of this magnitude. Fashion shows in Indonesia are
becoming more and more expensive, costing up to Rp 50 million
(US$22,000) per show, excluding the costs of the collection. This
is largely due to banquet fees (up to Rp 50,000 per person), as
it is customary here to serve a sumptuous dinner during the show.

Add to this the costs of models (up to Rp 500,000 per show,
with an average of 25 models per show), choreographers, public
relations coordinators, invitation and portfolio printing, and
you have yourself a veritable financial nightmare. This
development towards ever more luxurious setups have had an
adverse effect on the fashion industry. Many young designers
remain stagnant simply because they cannot afford to stage a
show. Even senior designers have trouble making ends meet.

"I can't afford to do shows for much longer," complained Iwan
Tirta.

How then does Ramli do it? The booklet placed on every chair
makes it clear: sponsorship. This year, Ramli accumulated no less
than 20 sponsors, the biggest among them being British Airways,
Sariayu cosmetics, and John Robert Powers modeling school. It's a
beneficial relationship for all, based on mutual promotion. The
ceremonial thanking of the sponsors, all gathered onstage, took a
good half hour. And if sponsorship was not enough to cover costs,
there were invitation fees at Rp 125,000 per ticket. All the gold
decor in the ballroom began to make dollar sense.

It's debatable, however, whether all the money spent meant
guests could be kept waiting indefinitely. The invitation said 7
p.m., but the first model poked her head out at 9:45 p.m. If the
intention was to build momentum, it backfired. By the time the
show started, most people had lost enthusiasm and wanted to go
home. The show did not even last very long, as the hall emptied
before 11 p.m..

So what was all the commotion about? An organza jacket here, a
satin sarong there. Ramli is not the most avant-garde designer in
Indonesia, nor does he claim to be. What he is known for, and
what he wants to be known for, is embroidery. His last 20 years
have been devoted to perfecting this craft.

Ramli's first foray into fashion was in 1975, when he held a
show called Embroidery Night. The show gathered a lot of
attention and clientele. By 1988, he had put on a string of shows
both in Indonesia and overseas, and was duly awarded the "Most
Successful Collection of the Year" by the fashion media. In 1990,
President Soeharto gave Ramli the Upakarti award for his support
of traditional handicrafts. Ramli's design studio has indeed
helped revive handicraft industries in many villages, such as in
Jambi.

Award

Ramli may deserve an award for his ornate embroidery, but to
call them traditional is misleading. Ramli initially became known
precisely for his machine-created embroidery on synthetic
fabrics. As he became more successful, he expanded his range, but
the bulk of his work is made by machine.

This does not necessarily take away from the embroidery's
beauty. The show began with bridal costumes, for both bride and
groom, in shining gold. The embroidery was accentuated with
glittering beads on red velvet, the whole spectacle was an
eyeful. It gave an indication of the opulence to come.

The first ensemble of clothes was named "Betawi", inspired by
the traditional attire of native Jakartans. Fifteen models walked
the stage in crisp white embroidered shorts and skirts. Baggy
organza kebaya floated over waistcoats and camisoles. It was
sweet and simple, and very wearable.

The next collection, called "Palembang", was also sweet and
simple. Palembang tie-dye prints, or jumputan, in sunny pastels
graced flared skirts and dresses, 1940s style. From afar, it
looked like a jumble of polka dots. With the thin gilt belts,
light silhouette, and bow-tie accessories, the vibrant ensembles
sauntered like an ethnic Chanel. The men's outfits were just as
fun. Billowy silk shirts and loose pants in candy-colors pink and
mint, some were even glittered -- playfully on par with Versace,
but not as kitsch.

Onstage

For the next segment, entitled "Sumatra Barat", a group of
familiar faces came onstage in baju kurung. Rima Melati, Dewi
Motik, Titi Qadarsih, Nani Sakri: what do they share in common?
They were all once models, and now they were on the catwalks
again. The clothes may have been tighter than desired on some of
the women, but it's a good idea to show these clothes on women
who would actually wear them. Besides, the fun they shared
onstage was infectious, and some of them could teach the younger
models a thing or two.

The following collection, however, was not as inspiring. For
some unexplainable reason, the theme of "Kalimantan" was
represented by a print featuring babies, shields and traditional
Dayak motifs. Come again? If there was humor in this idea, I
missed it. Also, there were too many layers in the outfits --
camisole, sarong, long waistcoat, jacket, on top of each other --
that all you could see was a blur of beige. Paired with Grace-
Kelly-style scarf and sunglasses, the woman wearing these outfits
looked like she was headed for a safari through fashion
victimhood.

From that moment on, Ramli offered the same old ethnic
equation. Batik Jambi was pretty, with the traditional horse-and-
boat motif printed in electric and midnight blue. Gorgeous patola
prints came in brick red and come-hither purple, and more
jumputan slinked by in seaweed green. But all the layers were
boring, and it proves the divide between commercial and
revolutionary design.

The "Ujungpandang" designs were more cohesive. Delicate white
blouses were paired with mini-sarongs, some fastened with big bow
ties. The traditional baju bodo was re-interpreted as baby doll
dresses in very bright colors, much like the women who would wear
them: hot and spicy!

Bali and Central Java also shined in outlandish ball gowns
rich with gold-and-black embroidery and beading. The yards and
yards of gold Bali prada were particularly fetching, with black
bodices trimmed in tasseled beads. However, there were so many of
these gowns in both Javanese and Balinese vein that they all soon
looked the same. At least the men were well-represented in sleek
prada shirts: very chic and elegant even for the most macho.

The lowest point of the show was the "Asmat" collection.
Pinstripes collided with "Asmat" patterns and symbols in an
unbecoming color-wheel of rust and turquoise. Another designer
had fallen victim to the "Asmat" death-knell.