Zoe Whalen has a new atelier with a lot of history—the designer’s friend Bobbi Salvör Menuez grew up here, and the last occupant was Maryam Nassir Zadeh. Though she only moved in a month ago, you get the sense that the designer has already become rooted in this white painted and many windowed studio because there’s a new sense of clarity and calm to the collection. Funny enough, in this world apart, where the troubles of the universe feel far away, Whalen presented (by appointment), showing her most relatable (but not safe) collection yet. In the past, the designer has used runways/performances as a way to create collective experiences. Without the drama of catharsis or ritual or character building, the garments spoke, with great eloquence, for themselves. There was a confidence to these pieces that belied the vulnerability Whalen said she feels now “when I’m trying to speak something poetic from my heart and it really feels more about the clothing.”
It also was very much about body confidence. A “napkin” dress of herringbone linen that revealed hip pads of the same material felt as powerful as its silhouette was dramatic. Whalen might be inspired by “preindustrial revolution” times, but this collection reflected the way many women want to dress now. Here, bloomers read as coquettish rather than boho. A vintage ticking-fabric corset and pocket apron (like the one the designer wears in the studio) overdraped in a sheer bustle skirt sizzled with sensuality.
It’s not everywhere that you’ll find garments based on a Victorian-era riding jacket or christening gowns or stomachers or bags that look like calligraphic doodles. Not to mention they were made out of materials including feed sacks, sun-bleached window curtains, vintage tablecloths, and bed linens, some of which had been shrunk or dyed by hand with rusty objects in the studio. “I made all the patterns myself in the studio; it’s all done by my hand,” explained Whalen. “I’ve just basically been experimenting with texture, color…and old shapes that I’ve been perfecting for the past two and a half years.”
Color was one of the surprises here. An orange plaid from the ’20s, a textile that “is just something you can’t find anymore,” was used for a corset and top based on a Victorian baby’s shirt. The designer was oddly drawn to “a bolt of this kind of horrible [upholstery] floral,” and so print was in the mix as well. Color and pattern didn’t distract from the clarity Whalen achieved for spring. “I want to make something that feels like my vision and my world, but that is accessible and wearable and stripped back. [I want to let] people into the thought process and the story behind the pieces,” she said. “I want it to feel like this is how I imagine somebody in the world wearing these garments without it becoming fantastical; I don’t actually want it to be a fantasy. I want it to have a real life.” This collection is sure to have a memorable one.
