September 16, 2008

In his own very particular and devoted way, Adam Kimmel is one of menswear's great fanboys. What he does, why he does it, and who he shows it on in his inspired lookbooks are all an expression of the reverence he accords people who make art (or, at least, the kind of art he likes). Once it was the New York AbEx world of the late fifties and early sixties that inspired him. Then last season he turned his attention westward to Wallace Berman and the Semina coterie in California. Now he's moved on to Irving Blum's Ferus Gallery in L.A. In the sixties, Ferus was the nexus of a scene of dandy artists, actors, and bohemians who resisted beach culture to create their own feverishly stylish universe—and Kimmel has tracked many of them down.

This exercise in cultural archaeology would be meaningless if it didn't translate into desirable clothes, and the most intriguing thing about Kimmel's career is the way his fanboy-dom keeps provoking him to greater and more disciplined heights. Yes, Ferus artist Larry Bell's striped pants were duplicated in Kimmel's latest collection (and yes, that's actually Bell wearing them in the lookbook), but you didn’t need to know that to appreciate the summery impact of a Breton-striped blazer in terrycloth. The same stripes made up one side of reversible jackets (the other side navy), and they reconfigured Kimmel's signature jumpsuit (which he also showed in a short-sleeved version in navy linen). If navy and white dominated the collection—the cardigan jacket, which is giving the jumpsuit a run for its money as Kimmel's key piece, appeared here in navy cashmere—the designer also showed prints: anchors, on a safari jacket, and something that might have been his cerebral version of a Hawaiian shirt.

But it was dressy more than casual that left the lingering impression. I guess Ed Ruscha, Ken Price, Dennis Hopper, Dean Stockwell, and the other Ferus followers liked to dress up when they headed into the Hollywood Hills, because Kimmel gave them a handful of takes on the tux, the best in a corduroy as soft and light as the finest velvet.

— Tim Blanks