Can you build a fashion practice without product?
Simon Carle’s custom garments have been worn by Charli XCX, Tyla and Rosalía, but his real success lies in resisting the systems young designers are told they need.
By Pedro Vasconcelos
It takes nine flights of stairs to reach German designer Simon Carle’s studio in the 18th arrondissement of Paris. I expect to meet him once I finally make it to the open door, but first I’m greeted by nine mannequins dressed in voluminous gowns.
For the past three years, Carle has been working at Maison Margiela, most notably contributing to John Galliano’s final collection for the house. But it’s his own practice, creating custom garments that sit somewhere between fashion and art, that has built him a cult following. The Margiela influence is undeniable – knitwear burnt to create new silhouettes, socks upcycled into shoes, temporary tattoo pieces applied directly to the skin – but the level of detail and innovation goes far beyond what a typical disciple of the brand might create.
It’s an enviable position to be in, designing outside of the fashion calendar, at his own pace. It’s also one that challenges notions of creative vs. commercial success that designers are often taught as they enter the industry. Keen to learn more, Carle chatted about the importance of working with his hands, how to reach flow state, and the dynamics of working with celebrities like Charlie XCX, Tyla and Rosalía (all of whom have worn his designs in the last few months).
You have a very specific visual identity. Do you have an artistic North star?
In general, I’m quite curious to discover more artists so I wouldn’t say that I stick to a specific person per se. But there’s designers like Kostas Murkudis – I think the stuff that he has been doing is so undervalued. He has such a rich and unique perspective. And somehow it’s still timeless. Quite rigid materials and shapes, very innovative. Even though it’s not exactly what I’m doing, I just love the concept.
When it comes to artists, I’m more attracted to those who work with sculpture as their medium, because I’m quite obsessed with surfaces and textures. For instance, Louise Bourgeois, I love her textile sculptures. I feel like they have such rich emotional meaning. She uses material in a biographic sense. Artists who connect different dots that bring new perspectives and enable me to see how they see the world is what I appreciate. Even though you might not understand the intention, the research around it is so embedded in the piece itself. Meaning needs to be apparent. I feel like if you can’t translate what you meant to say in a visual way, then you didn’t succeed. Otherwise, what’s the point, just write a book about it.
That’s not something you seem to struggle with. How did you develop your aesthetic?
There’s specific colours that I’m naturally drawn to, specific themes, like imperfection, deconstruction, reconstruction. They’re things that I’ve been attracted to from an early age. It’s always been an obsession. I could spend forever deconstructing and reconstructing the same thing. I’m constantly working with the same subject in that way. In that sense, I’m very consistent.
What compels you to take something apart and put it back together?
I’m such a perfectionist, so it’s very liberating to do it. You have the scars, the trace of what it was before. There’s this urge to find out what I don’t see when I first look at it. It’s quite a joyful thing to do. It’s a curious and pure energy to dig into. If I work on a project with a celebrity, I don’t sketch. They always ask me to send the sketches but that’s not really how I work because I don’t know what the result is, I also have to find out.
Do you drape then?