Umit Benan has a number for the thing he’s after, and it’s 32. That’s how many times a pair of his jeans goes through the wash before the hand turns to the peach-like finish he wants. “How do I make something completely normal that still impresses you? I can’t,” he said. “You’ve seen it all.” What’s left, by his reckoning, is touch. “The only thing I can add is how I make you feel.” And that sensation even has a time of day: Benan is “trying to make you feel like it’s Sunday morning.”
He takes the fine-gauge wools that other houses keep smooth and runs them on an interlock, the way you’d work a jersey. The fiber inflates, the weight drops, and what reaches the skin is what he calls suspension. He uses a Super 200s wool, roughly three times the cost of cashmere, then refuses the close fit that fabric at that price usually comes with. “If there’s no space between the skin and the cloth, you can’t really feel it,” he said.
The palette held two memories at once. The desaturated yellow threaded through the lineup was early ’90s Miami, the Gianni Versace and South Beach Benan returns to season after season. It was used for a linen double-breasted suit, a blouson, and drawstring swim shorts under a white shirt. Against it sat earthy browns, tans and an Italian sobriety Benan has been moving towards. Neckties, the last word in formality, landed on a Cuban-collar shirt, “which isn’t a shirt for a tie,” the designer noted. Even the recurring knit caps traced to two places. One is a man Benan watched a whole summer in Saint-Tropez, writing every morning in a prayer cap and natural colors, “the elegance of Africa,” in his words. The other is a memory of his mother, who used to knit them.
Seasonal presentations interest Benan less than made-to-order commissions for clients he dresses directly and at length—“I’m at their service,” he said of a practice that has become the center of the house. In the store, plant artist Satoshi Kawamoto set up a stand, building fresh bouquets for anyone who stopped by. The bouquets were made on the spot and will have a short lifespan—the opposite of the clothes. The denim had been in development for two years, the swimsuit, in nylon and silk, for 18 months. “I want one that you can wear for ten years,” said Benan. When he makes you feel something, he wants it to last.
