For modern Taiwanese, clothes are more
than necessities. Four local designers share
their views on the nature of the fashion
market in Taiwan and the techniques they
use to make their customers more attractive
and comfortable.
Meeting Puong Khieng for the first time, one might easily mistake this Cambodian-born fashion designer for a doctor. Khieng always dresses in white at work, so he can judge the color of a fabric more accurately by contrasting it with his clothes. That habit is just one indication of Khieng's attention to detail. "A fashion designer should know more than just how to make designs on paper. He or she should know all the techniques needed to produce quality apparel," says this specialist in designing tailor-made women's wear.
Khieng, whose parents come from Chaozhou, Guangdong Province, emigrated from Cambodia to France at the age of twelve. After graduating in 1983 from an arts college in Paris where he majored in fashion design, he worked for several well -known French brands such as Emanuel Ungaro. In 1999 he moved to Taiwan because his Taiwan-born wife wished to return to her homeland. In a totally new environment where at first he was unable to speak a word of the local language, Khieng did his best to adapt, setting up a studio in Taipei. Today he still flies to Paris at least twice a year to place orders for fabric. "I prefer being there in person to choose cloth. I have to feel it to know its quality," says the designer in less-than-fluent but comprehensible Mandarin.
The designer stresses the importance of professionalism and attentiveness to customers. "It's a top priority to communicate with my customers. I make friends with them before entering into any deals. I look at each of them as a queen waiting to be served," he says. But Khieng notes that Taiwanese customers often ask him to deliver finished products in a day or two. "I advise them to be more patient. It takes time to make a piece of clothing, if you want it to be of high quality."
The wait pays off, since Khieng adheres to the principles of Haute Couture (High Fashion) when producing his unique line of clothes. Haute Couture is characterized by exquisite craftsmanship in making high-class tailor-made clothes. To illustrate what high fashion means, Khieng picks up a dress that sells for NT$250,000 (US$7,250) and relates the history behind it. The European-made fabric was first airmailed from Paris to Taipei for dyeing, then sent to India where ten seamstresses stood ready to sew on ribboned flowers. Finally, the Indian subcontractor hand-carried the material back to Taiwan for cutting and stitching. "I asked several factories in Taiwan to take over these time-consuming tasks, but nobody was interested," Khieng says. "I think Taiwanese prefer to make money quickly by doing less complicated work."
Taiwan's "fast-food culture" is less than impressive in the eyes of this proponent of high fashion. Khieng hopes he can help more local people in the industry to appreciate the value of the painstaking French approach to making apparel. He therefore takes every opportunity to communicate with his four Taiwanese employees, and also encourages them to learn from a French tailor he has hired to help out in Taipei. A local university, aware of Khieng's background and his willingness to share his knowledge, invited him to teach in its department of fashion design. "I turned down the offer, though, because I want to concentrate on my work. If I try to take care of both my customers and students, I might end up taking care of neither."
Though Khieng has lived in Taiwan for just two years, he has already achieved considerable domestic recognition. In 2001, he was commissioned to design the merchandise sold in the gift shops at two high-profile exhibitions--one on the artifacts of ancient West Asia and the other on the Napoleonic era. Also last year, Tsai Chin, a well-known singer from Taiwan, asked him to design the costumes for an important Hong Kong performance, which further enhanced his reputation in the industry.
Asked about his future plans, Khieng immediately mentions mainland China. "Taiwan's market is small," he says. "Besides, there're already a lot of established international brands competing here." Another factor is that many of his customers are wives of Taiwanese businessmen who are spending most of their time on the mainland pursuing business opportunities. "These custom ers go there very often, so I just follow to serve them." In early 2002 Khieng and his Hong Kong partner plan to open a shop in Beijing selling his productions as well as famous-brand accessories from France. Again Khieng is taking up an exciting challenge in another totally new environment.
Yuan Nien-hua's fascination with the chi pao has much to do with her family background. "My father is a mainlander, and I was brought up with the idea that mainland girls should wear a chi pao. That's why I became interested in designing and making them." Yuan, now in her fifties, started by developing her skills in embroidery as a teenager, and now she still personally embroiders almost all the images and patterns on the clothes she designs. Yuan produces only tailor-made chi pao, which she thinks fit better and are more comfortable than ready-made ones. Maybe some other shops say they make specially designed chi pao, too, she notes. "But I touch the customer and understand her shape to design clothes just for her. That's the difference."
The chi pao developed from the costumes worn by the Chi people, the aristocracy among the Manchus who governed China in the Ching dynasty (1644-1911). Later the Han Chinese also adopted this kind of garment. At first the chi pao did not fit so tightly on a woman's body. Chinese women were rather conservative at the time; they felt uncomfortable if their curves showed too conspicuously. Yuan's mother once told her that when she was a girl, she often tried various ways to flatten her breasts to look less buxom. "Foreign fashion was introduced to Shanghai in the late Ching dynasty and that's when the chi pao started to change" from the original loose garment, says Yuan. "Since Westerners are accustomed to wearing relatively tight-fitting clothes, the chi pao designers followed suit."
In Yuan's opinion, the traditional chi pao is ideal for showing off the demure and graceful beauty of Chinese women. The collar holds a woman's head straight to keep her from looking listless. The slit down the side allows the wearer to walk more conveniently while partially hiding the legs to make them even more seductive. Over time, however, new versions of the chi pao have been introduced in an attempt to reach a broader segment of the market. Some designs now feature turned-down collars, for instance, and today nearly all chi pao have zippers in the back instead of opening with buttons in the front.
But whatever the style, Yuan is afraid that the chi pao no longer enjoys much market appeal aside from its use in a bridal ensemble. "Most people don't dare to wear it because women in Taiwan today are not as slender as before. And the impression exists that the chi pao is only suitable for women of the upper class." She cites the example of Soong Mei-ling, wife of the late president Chiang Kai-shek, who always wore a chi pao on important occasions. Equally worrying is that the old chi pao makers, most of them from mainland China, have either died or retired. Their skills are not being passed along to the next generation. "In the past, chi pao design was a required course in the departments of fashion design or home economics, but that's not the case any more," Yuan laments.
Decades ago the chi pao was everyday wear. "When something's in vogue, it'll be popular no matter how you design it," Yuan notes. "But when it's out of fashion, no matter what you do in terms of design and promotion, it's difficult to attract people's attention." As a result, four years ago she established an annual chi pao fashion show, displaying a variety of "improved" designs. One example was the "spice girl" chi pao , with a hemline high above the knees to attract the younger generation. "Today chi pao designers often combine Chinese and Western styles, for instance by adding trains," says Yuan. As for women with a plumpish figure, she says it is easy to make them look graceful through proper tailoring. "You don't have to be in good shape to wear a chi pao."
Because of its glamour, the chi pao is slowly making a comeback, the designer maintains. "You know, putting on just an average chi pao can make you look distinctive at a banquet when all the other women are wearing brand-name Western-style dresses," Yuan says, expressing confidence that gradually more women will become aware of this advantage. "And just think about the large market that could be built up in mainland China," she exclaims. Once the pendulum of fashion swings back to their side again, chi pao designers should find great potential for development.
When Avon Chen started to design golf apparel three years ago for Lynx, a US brand active in the Taiwan market, she had doubts about how professionally challenging the new job could be. "Unlike women's wear, there's not much room for diversification in sportswear. That's why it's not easy to design golf clothing--every year you have to try hard to create something different to attract buyers," she remarks.
The demand for golf clothing has been increasing steadily along with the sport's growing popularity in Taiwan. "Now young people are also getting interested in this sport, which is already being offered as an elective physical education course in many colleges," Chen says. The prowess of the young superstar Tiger Woods has also been a factor in encouraging the younger generation to take up the sport.
In the past, golf in Taiwan was primarily the pastime of the middle-aged and wealthy. Often they purchased their golf wear while on trips abroad or else went out on the links wearing other kinds of casual apparel. Little in the way of golf wear was available in Taiwan until the late 1980s when Lynx opened a Taiwan operation to sell golf-related merchandise. Other companies followed suit, and in the Taiwan market Lynx now has more than ten competitors, coming from the United States, Europe, and Japan. Some are simply importing the same goods they sell in their home markets, while others such as Lynx are designing products aimed specifically at the Taiwan sportsman.
Whatever the company's nationality, designs for the Taiwan market tend to be heavily influenced by Japanese style, which is what local customers have traditionally preferred. Chen, who studied at a college of fashion design in Tokyo, is quite comfort able with that orientation. "Japanese style features integrating all the parts into whole ensembles," she says. "If you look at my designs for golf wear, you'll always find an upper garment with a pair of pants that match it in color." She regards the American style as "more casual and rustic." "Just look at American golfers. They don't care much about what they wear. But in Taiwan you can see beautifully dressed women out on the course. They might be awful golfers, but what they wear makes them the focus of attention."
In addition, Japanese-style golf apparel emphasizes comfort and health, using specially processed materials to absorb sweat quickly and block ultraviolet rays. "And you can clean most of them by machine washing, while most highly priced clothes must be dry-cleaned," says Chen. In general, golf wear is more expensive than other sportswear. A polo shirt produced by Chen's company is typically priced between NT$3,000 and $4,000 (US$87 and $116), and the pants cost even more.
However good the product, during a period of economic downturn business will suffer. Sales at her company dropped by 20 to 30 percent in 2001, says Chen. A secondary reason for the slide is the large number of Taiwanese businessmen who have moved their operations to mainland China. "Many of them play golf, and now they buy clothes across the Strait," she notes.
A deeper problem is that while Taiwanese are designing golf clothing, no one in Taiwan has yet attempted to create a new brand. "Taiwanese love foreign brand names, whether we're talking about men's wear, women's wear, or sportswear," says Chen, conceding that some of her customers buy Lynx products just because it is a well-known American brand. As a result, she believes it would be extremely difficult to break into the market with a local brand and get domestic department stores to set aside counter space for it. Unless Taiwan's consumers change this basic mentality, Chen fears that her long-term dream of creating her own brand may be unattainable.
Sophie Hong takes a different view, saying she is living proof that Taiwanese can create name brands too. "I'm the first Taiwanese fashion designer to build a name in the international market," she boasts. "That's because I have the courage to be a pioneer and I have my own style." A graduate of the department of fashion design at Taipei's Shih Chien University, Hong has been exhibiting her productions in fashion shows since the mid-1980s and entered the international arena in 1994 as one of eleven accomplished local designers invited to join a show in Paris.
"I stress the importance of being original, and I can always produce things that are uniquely attractive," Hong says. "I design clothes the way I paint on a canvas or make a sculpture. I like to create, and I draw inspiration from everything around me." Indeed the interior of her studio, decorated with Hong's own paintings and other objects of art, is as eye-catching as her fashion. "When my friends and customers come to the city, they visit my place as a scenic spot," she says with a laugh.
Hong goes to Paris at least twice a year to present her latest styles at the fashion shows for spring/summer and fall/winter collections. "I must keep taking part because once you miss out, it's not easy to go back," she explains. The organizers tend to be extremely selective in who they admit, and not many openings are available for those from Taiwan or other Asian countries. But Hong has been invited for seven consecutive years and her name has increasingly become known internationally among members of the industry. She also shows her creations regularly in New York as well as such other fashion centers as Milan and Tokyo. "The schedule is tight," she says of her routine. "I prepare for one fashion show, and after coming back to Taiwan I start to take orders from my customers while already getting ready for the next show."
Her clientele includes both international and Taiwanese customers, and she also nurtures her devotion to the arts by designing costumes for local theater groups. What is it that makes Sophie Hong's works distinctive? "Unlike many Western-style clothes, my creations don't fit closely on your body. They are generally loose, comfortable, and elegant. That is reminiscent of the free style in Chinese ink paintings and calligraphy. You can feel the legacy of Chinese culture in my designs, though I don't deliberately aim in that direction." Also unusual is the background music she chooses for her fashion shows, which might be the rhythmic cadences of Taiwan's aboriginal people or pei-kuan, a fast-tempo accompaniment to Taiwanese opera. Most of her garments are made from a special kind of silk, further accentuating the Oriental flavor. Known as "mud silk" and chosen for the fabric's ability to breathe well , it originally came only in black or brown, but Hong found ways to diversify it in both color and texture.
Hong is proud of what she has achieved and of the contribution she has been able to make to her country's international reputation. "Since I insist on good quality and good design, I'm promoting a positive image of Taiwan." She knows that with the possible exception of computer products, Westerners tend to regard Taiwanese merchandise as cheap, coarse, and all too often pirated. "Who would think of Taiwan when talking about fashion? But now they know a Taipei designer, Sophie Hong, which helps to improve the image of local industry."
As successful as Hong has been, she is looking forward to even greater accomplishments. "I've already entered the international market. Now all I need is a publicity boost, but it costs a lot to do that kind of promotion. If I could find a corporate sponsor, I'd have much better results." Her other goal is to raise the level of Taiwan's fashion industry by helping to educate the next generation of designers. Hong therefore began teaching at the Graduate School of Fashion Design at her alma mater last year. "I accepted this teaching post out of a sense of mission, but I don't want my students to simply follow in my footsteps. I like to teach creative students, because that's more exciting, and I've been glad to find that many of them have their own styles." Maybe soon the world will see more Taiwanese fashion designers as self-confident as Sophie Hong.