Taiwan Today

Foreign labels and cheap imitations are tough competition at home, so designers are going for international markets.

Evenings and weekends are a bad time to walk down the midsection of Chunghsiao East Road in downtown Taipei. Except for the fashion-conscious. Blocks and blocks of the road, including its side streets and alleys, are lined with clothing stores, shoe stores, department stores, and boutiques. Fronting them are the makeshift stands of nomad vendors selling more clothes, more shoes, and more accessories at marked-down prices. It is impossible to walk on the sidewalks, and even the stores offer no refuge from the crowds of determined consumers.

Chunghsiao East Road is the closest to heaven that a compulsive fashion shopper can get in Taipei. And it is a temptation that even a discerning buyer will find difficult to ignore. The clothes on this street range from the finest quality at astronomical prices, to export rejects and remainders at dirt-cheap prices. In the alleys especially, designer boutiques sit next to warehouses crammed with casual and sportswear made for export. Piles and racks of down jackets, jogging suits, sweatshirts, and T-shirts are available here for less than half their selling price in their original destinations, mainly the U.S. and Japan.

Cutting across this section of Chunghsiao East Road is Tunhua South Road, a tree-lined avenue of spiffy apartment and office buildings. On the ground level of these buildings are exquisitely haute boutiques, the likes of which can be seen on the Ginza, Fifth Avenue, and the Champs Elysees. Shoppers here do not have to jostle their way into the luxurious and intimidating premises of international fashion houses such as Karl Lagerfeld, Christian Dior, Geoffrey Beene, and Valentino. The holiday atmosphere is missing here. In stead, there is just the aura of serious intent as crisp as new bills. Says a sales lady at Karl Lagerfeld, "Very few people step in, but when a loyal shopper does walk in, she usually leaves with bags of clothes worth about US$4,000."

Not all imported clothes in the area are exorbitantly priced. Hong Kong based Toppy, which caters to mid-level professional women, has just moved into its own spacious, well-lit, and welcoming three-story boutique on Tunhua South Road. Across from it is Evergreen Tokyu, a department store partially owned by the Tokyu Department Store of Japan. Various foreign labels are sold in Taipei department stores, as well as in the numerous boutiques in the alleys. Most of the stores claim their products are directly from France, Italy, Germany, England, the U.S., and Japan. And often they are.

Department stores thrive on crowds, and in Taipei, crowds meander from one department store to the next. Whole families, groups of schoolgirls holding hands, and tourists are only some of the folks strolling down the side walks and trekking up the escalators. More than ten department stores are in the area. And they have them all-imported clothes, locally manufactured clothes, foreign designer clothes, and Taiwan designer clothes. "But," says a twenty-nine-year-old who lives in the neighborhood, "after walking around a while, you realize you've seen everything. All the clothes look alike, only the labels change."

That, according to fashion writer Hsu Yu-kuei (許玉葵) is a correct assessment of fashion in Taiwan. She says that imitation is characteristic of fashion design on the island, and some fashion houses send their designers overseas specifically to note popular styles to reproduce when they return. "Their profits are enviable," says Hsu. Fashion designer Carson Huang (黃嘉純) can only agree. "They call themselves designers, but they don't create," she says. "They look at foreign designers' styles and combine them into a look that would be marketable in Taiwan."

If competition with foreign designer labels and their local lookalikes is not enough, innovative Taiwan designers also have to make sure that their ideas are not strewn on the sidewalks at much lower prices. This is one reason designer Teresa Fan (范吉玉) has stopped patronizing the local textile industry. She found out soon after her first success in 1987 that she had given free publicity to the manufacturers from whom she bought fabric. Exact replicas of her designs appeared everywhere. "I realized why the more experienced designers use only imported fabrics," she says. "There's greater variety, but in limited quantities. One designer buys out the whole stock."

But imported fabrics are expensive, and the cost has to be passed on to the buyer. As such, clothes by Taiwan designers often come only a few dollars short of the breathtaking tag prices that foreign designer labels carry. And since internationally known labels are not only symbols of prestige but also carry a reputation for quality workmanship, shoppers who might be attracted to local fashions would rather put their money on clothes from the fashion capitals of Europe.

In fact, ever since trade liberalization began in 1987 and tariffs on imported goods were cut, the business of selling designer brands has been doing exceedingly well. "Before 1987, the tariffs were so high that customers here had to pay double the Hong Kong price," says Agnes Lee (李芳), marketing manager for Chanel in Taipei. Lee used to be affiliated with another company that represented a number of foreign designer brands in Taipei.

Fashion writer Hsu Yu-kuei adds that over a hundred designer names have been introduced into Taiwan since 1987 - and they were met by an eager market. She explains the reason for their success: "Our economy had developed so fast, incomes were really climbing, but the most important factor is people were obsessed with name brands." It seems that success will continue. Fashion industry analysts estimate that the potential market for imported clothes is worth US$110 million. Currently it stands at only US$55 million.

It is difficult to compete at home, as most Taiwan designers will acknowledge. So why don't they look for markets else where? "It's not that easy," says Teresa Fan. "We have so many problems ahead of us." First, notes Fan, "where are we going to get fabrics?" This must be a joke. Taiwan is, after all, the sixth largest textile exporter in the world. A visit to Tihwa Street, a retail and wholesale fabric market packed to the corners and ceilings with bolts and bundles of every type of fabric imaginable, shows that Taiwan textile manufacturers can do anything the designers want them to. But Fan points out that local manufacturers are not willing to produce limited quantities, "and it is only by using Taiwan made fabrics that we can be unique."

Understandably, the limits to creative design are evident when designers cannot work with a textile manufacturer and has to make do with fabrics they had no hand in producing. Fan points to one of her designs. "If I had a manufacturer who could help me put my ideas on cloth, I wouldn't have ended up using this imported fabric. It isn't even the color I had in mind when I began the design," she says.

Designers have tried to get fabric manufacturers to work with them. At a press conference last year, they won the support of journalists. Designer Elizabeth Pun, with tears welling in her eyes, begged fabric manufacturers to cooperate if they, too, wanted Taiwan on the world fashion map. But despite the news paper story entitled, "Designers Without Fabrics: How Can They Fight?" that appeared the day after the press conference, manufacturers stood their ground. The reason for their hesitation is that it is not cost-efficient for them to produce limited quantities for a single client, particularly at a time when the textile industry itself is beset with production problems and a shrinking market.

Fabric is only one problem preventing overseas expansion. As Phillip M. Chen (陳明), secretary-general of the Taiwan Textile Federation (TTF) says, "A lot of the fashion businesses are small and medium-sized companies. They lack the capital, the facilities, and the manpower it takes to fulfill large orders." Designer Nadia Lin (林巨英) can speak from experience. She did not jump at an opportunity in South Africa. "I didn't dare," she says. "My company is way too small. I didn't have the money to hire more workers or buy more equipment. That would have helped me lower my costs and make my clothes more competitive."

Perhaps she would have also had a hard time finding the extra workers, as are the fabric and garment export manufacturers. Teresa Fan says that it is becoming increasingly difficult to insist on quality workmanship and that when she asks for complicated tailoring, she is often refused. "They say I'm too meticulous, too fussy," she says. One of Fan's biggest worries is that craftsmanship will soon be a thing of toe past. "I can see it happening," she says.

The entrepreneurial spirit found in many sectors of Taiwan business and industry is just as evident in designers. While aspiring designers in Europe and the United States begin by apprenticing at a renowned fashion house, Taiwan designers tend to set up on their own immediately. Thus they are not only involved in the process of developing as creative designers, but also active in the day-to-day details of running a small business. Nadia Lin and Isabelle Wen estimate that they spend over 80 percent of their working days, usually stretching to fourteen hours, on management and marketing. "All the time I have left to concentrate on sketching is before going to bed," Lin says.

Isabelle Wen (溫慶珠) is one of the more successful designers of ready-to-wear fashion. But she has a hard time meeting production goals. The visitor sees less than ten workers in her studio. Wen is so short-handed that she can hardly delegate the responsibilities of purchasing, marketing, and sales. "My people are buzzing around like bees just to meet the demand from the local market," she says. "If I don't get financial help from the giant textile enterprises, my company will not even be able to take overseas orders."

Fashion writer Hsu Yu-kuei is sympathetic to the plight of the designers struggling to make a business of their talent. But the vision has taken its toll, sapping the creative energy out of a lot of designers. She says, "Many have simply stopped improving, but I don't have the heart to admonish them for their lack of new ideas."

But certainly there has been a lot of progress. Even four years ago, Taiwan designs did not compare favorably with clothes imported from Japan and Europe, and it was easy to tell at first glance that an outfit was made in Taiwan. The most common observations-and complaints-were that the color combinations went to extremes; they were either bland or gaudy. Also, details such as embroidery, ruffles, beads, and rosettes could often all be found on one dress.

The easier access to information on fashion from Europe, the U.S., and Japan has helped widen the vistas of Taiwan designers. Not only has there been an increase in the number of foreign fashion magazines and catalogues available in the bookstores, glossy Chinese-language fashion publications have also multiplied in number and in quality. Designers looking for incentive can also go to the TTF's Textile Design Center. The center has organized a designers' association, and acts as a coordinating body between the designers and fabric manufacturers. It also makes the arrangements for ready-to-wear manufacturers to take part in trade shows overseas.

Designers like Carson Huang, who studied design in Paris and Los Angeles, also stand as an encouragement to aspiring designers who seek more creative expressions. And while many succumb to imitating the foreign competition, it serves as a stimulating reminder that less is more. Definitely, streamlining in terms of line and details is very much part of the new sophistication evident in the collections of the best Taiwan designers. Says Nadia Lin, "That's because the customers are more sophisticated as well." And as Lin and Carson Huang can attest, customers no longer look down on clothes by Taiwan designers. Professional women, too, are now more willing to wear them.

Designers acknowledge that the support of the TTF has been a boost to their development. Taipei Fashion Week, a textile trade show jointly sponsored by the TTF and the China External Trade Development Council (CETRA) and held annually since 1987, has been a jumping board for local designers into foreign markets. Later, in 1989, to build the image of Taiwan as a regional fashion center, an Asian Young Designers' Contest became part of the fashion week activities. An award for Taiwan's best young designer also gives recognition to new talent. Two years ago, Shen Pohung, then a fashion design major at the Taipei Shih Chien College, won both the best young designer award and took first place in the Asian Young Designers Competition. French designer Pierre Cardin, who was invited as a guest of honor for Taipei Fashion Week and to sit as a judge in the panel for the competitions, offered Shen an apprenticeship in his Paris workshop.

Even though the fashion week was the year's climax for local designers, the TTF has now decided to hold the event once in two years instead. According to TTF's Phillip Chen, the disappointing business that the fashion week has been bringing in did not justify its production cost. But the federation has assured designers of its continued support. It now offers overseas scholarships worth US$15,000 to designers who want to hone their skills in the world's fashion capitals.

Teresa Fan is confident the world will accept Taiwan designers. "I don't believe we are not as good as designers from other countries," she says. "As long as we find a way to attract foreign buyers to Taiwan we'll do just fine." Rome was not built in a day, Chen stresses, and neither is reputation nor a recognized brand name. "It takes time," he says. "Chanel, for example, is the result of continuous effort over generations."

The styles of the House of Chanel are distinctive and enduring, as are all good designs. But how will Taiwan designers distinguish themselves? As Chen sees it, fashion should not be used to promote a country's culture. "We can try to add Chinese flavor to our designs," he says, "but I don't think people in other countries will be keen about it. It is narrow-minded to insist that Taiwan fashion must present Chinese culture." Teresa Fan takes another angle and says that any design will eventually reflect the creator's cultural background, even unintentionally. "We might be inspired by patterns often used in the chi pao, but we don't need to design around it," she says.

Chen does not get too bogged down with questions about cultural identity in fashion. His major concern is that Taiwan's bargain-basement image in other countries might die hard. Therefore, the TTF has come up with an alternative, or a "short cut," as Chen describes it. The strategy calls for garment manufacturers to go to Europe and acquire ownership of less well-known brands. "We'll turn them into brands identified with Taiwan," he says.

Garment manufacturers have taken note. According to a recent newspaper report, one manufacturer has gone to Paris to set up production. The clothes are already being sold there. According to the report, the owner believes that when it comes to fashion, the image of Paris is going to count for much in sales. The report also states that this could be a new trend, since other garment manufacturers are considering following suit. The TTF, for its part in the onslaught on Europe, is thinking of bringing in European designers to help raise Taiwan's fashion reputation and to stimulate designers here into more creative and beneficial directions.

Taiwan designers will have a lot of proving to do, especially on their own soil. They could follow the most common strategy for success on the island: today the world, tomorrow Taiwan. But even better, they could keep in step with international fashion yet find their own individual expressions of style. And then if they want to, they can stay on Chunghsiao East Road or move on to the world's bigger fashion centers.