The diminutive but immensely powerful Japanese designer instils in her collections a very philosophical approach to fashion. In this essay, fashion historian Ángela Hurtado Pimentel dissects Kawakubo’s creative, cultural and philosophical vanguard

A few years ago, a 28-year-old Penny Martin was doing oral research on Nick Knight for her doctorate studies at the Royal College of Art when the phone rang. “Hello, this is Nick Knight,” the voice said, to which Martin replied: “I know.” In retrospect, she admits this probably was not the best way to start a possible future in fashion yet, somehow it helped her get a job lasting seven years as editor at what would become one of the first digital fashion publications, SHOWstudio.

 

Martin is a woman of many stories, hence why she was asked to speak at the inaugural event of London College of Fashion presents: Sartorial Stories, held in London on April 26th. Before an audience of students and university staff, the editor in chief at The Gentlewoman sat down with Susana Cordner, LCF research fellow and exhibition research assistant at the V&A, to discuss her career and her thinking towards fashion.

 

That conversation with Knight took place in 2001, and it opened the door to Martin’s media career. Having previously worked as a curator at the National Museum of Photography, Film and Television, her SHOWstudio tenure was followed by two years as chair of Fashion Imagery at LCF, which also coincided with her start at biannual magazine The Gentlewoman back in 2010. “Looking at all of these experiences in retrospective really makes you reflect on the lessons learned,” she says. Blurring the lines between personal and professional, the 44-year-old Scotswoman pondered over a variety of topics, including a conversation on free gifts, finding a uniform, and female representation in the media.

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On decluttering… even if you’re in fashion

 

As an editor in fashion, it is not uncommon to receive free products from brands. With the passing of the years, those objects all end up stacking and filling up coveted, yet impersonal spaces all around. “Fashion is like that pulling Death Star in Star Wars,” she admits. “Whenever you start out in the industry you may feel in control of what is ‘it’ and what’s you, but the longer you spend in it, the more you get pulled towards that dark side, which might not necessarily be what you’re really interested in.”

 

For this reason, the editor finds it useful to keep recalibrating and going back to one’s true self. Becoming more critical of one’s collections – especially when comprised of hand-me-downs and gifts – is a sane tool to maintain an identity within the industry. “For example, we all have expectations on what the editor of a fashion magazine is meant to be,” she says. “But I just don’t want to be that.”

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On how a uniform brings peace of mind

 

When asked to bring an object to draw conversations from, Martin went to her closet and chose one version of her signature navy jumper. The jumper in question was an Ermenegildo Zegna oversized cashmere sweater with slits at the cuff and neck, and moth-like holes all around it. But it wasn’t initially intended for her.

 

“A few years ago, my boss Jop van Bennekom and I were at a party conversing with designer Stefano Pilati (then based at Zegna) and complimenting this garment on him,” Martin points out. “A few weeks later Jop and I received similar sweaters as gifts, yet mine was sample sized and wouldn’t fit me. Jop took pity in me and gave me this one.”

 

“I’m sure that in fashionable circumstances I look assiduously unfashionable… I think it’s just the absolute opposite of what’s expected of me”

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The choosing of this garment made the editor realise how common navy – and the jumper – were in British culture. “I’m sure that in fashionable circumstances I look assiduously unfashionable… And again, I think it’s just the absolute opposite of what’s expected of me,” Martin admits. Here she refers to the conflict that she faces as editor where, by choosing to wear a set combination of garments, she is defying the very industry she works in, one that is based around the idea of creating and promoting the consumption of clothes.

 

Claiming she’s now known as ‘the navy lady’, Martin says she would often worry about choosing an outfit for a special occasion, which is why the uniform of a navy sweater, blazer and/or trousers, teamed with a white shirt and flats, is the kind of ‘easy’ relationship this gentlewoman wishes to have and communicate with fashion. “I’m not particularly interested in clothes as a costume and I’m certainly no sartorial warrior,” she says. “I just want to turn up as myself.”

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On representing women as themselves

 

Penny Martin has observed similar difficulties and solutions among fellow females portrayed on The Gentlewoman. Scottish First Minister Nicola Sturgeon, for example, reveals in the magazine’s latest issue that a male politician has less to worry about than a female one while on camera, as his appearance is rarely a topic of conversation. “I think the professional woman wants to be judged on her work and not on what she’s wearing,” Martin explains. 

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“There are many ways to humiliate a woman by just getting her photograph taken,” Martin says. Since its beginning, the magazine has opposed mainstream visual clichés on female representation, opting instead for demure and natural images. For the 2013 Beyoncé cover, for instance, the editorial boss and her team went for a covered up alternative to the artist’s otherwise revealing Mrs Carter tour looks. “She allowed us to present her as a gentlewoman,” Martin recalls. Along with her team, how she portrays these women is by pushing fantasy, objectification and fetishism aside, focusing instead on the reality of what women want, what women have to say, and what women really look like. 

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This was indeed the case with Angela Lansbury on issue 6, one of the most successful covers to date and Martin’s favourite. Martin remembers finding herself choosing the former Murder, She Wrote actress as the issue’s cover over hit singer St Vincent. The cover is a portrait of 86-year-old Lansbury wearing large square glasses, is sensual in a non-lascivious way; an experienced woman who is confortable in her own skin. “Would you honestly put her on the cover?” they asked Martin at the time. “Yes, I would. She knows that I know that she knows she looks great.”