It would be perfectly reasonable for the average consumer to think of Sandy Liang’s clothes as slightly repulsive. The jeans in her collections are wide, flared, and cut off above the ankle (she claims that this is what she always does to her own jeans because of her modest height). They are also embellished with piercings and earrings (albeit from Swarovski). On one denim top, a single piercing was strategically placed right where the nipple would be. There is a stiff leather apron functioning as a backless dress that reminds me of an updated butcher’s uniform. To round it off, the looks are paired with pink jelly sandals, foam poolside sliders, or sports socks and white sneakers.
Liang says that wearing her clothes “will make you happy.” Her main inspiration comes from “Chinatown grandmas”—the ones that mismatch patterns and wear floral pajamas as outerwear. One of the looks from last winter’s collection featured a model wearing pink silk pajamas under a wool coat. There are also distinct references to the ’90s, whether it’s in the plastic sandals, the Matrix-esque sunglasses, or the choker necklaces. Her collections are for girls who grew up in the nineties but never grew out of its style.
However, what’s distinctively now about Liang is the main pursuit of her designs: her clothes are not chasing beauty, but instead aim to make the ugly and the imperfect beautiful. This becomes clear through her fascination with Chinatown. Not only are many of her pieces named after its streets (the Delancey jacket, the Allen puffer), the images for her collection are all taken there too. In her Spring 2015 lookbook, we see a beautiful model pose in a pink fur top while eating crab legs in a Chinese restaurant.
Making the ugly beautiful is an old trick in fashion—Coco Chanel transformed the little black dress of workers into evening wear, Vivienne Westwood introduced the punk spirit to the catwalk. The difference between those examples and what is happening nowadays is that the trick has become a competition of who can sell the poorest-looking clothes for the highest price. At Saint Laurent, Hedi Slimane has transformed the institution that once defined glamour into a series of commercially successful looks ripped from thrift stores that make celebrities and their diaspora look like they’ve stayed in the mosh pit for too long. Givenchy’s latest collection presented an ode to the tough Latina “chola.” Miuccia Prada is one of the few truly admirable proponents of ugliness in fashion, where the product succeeds in pushing the envelope of aesthetics and femininity rather than just playing a perverse joke on both buyers and gang-girls.
In this instance, Liang is more Prada than chola. Her clothes aren’t mere appropriation, but instead celebrate the laissez-faire qualities from the Chinatown she knows and loves, and the Chinatown that is her home. Her lookbooks aren’t photographed in any Chinese restaurant, but in her father’s, Congee Village. The Chinatown grandma that has inspired her the most is her own. Instead of copying motifs, her clothes translate the mismatched logic of the Chinese restaurant that is her home into truly innovative pieces that makes the girl look good. Expressing comfort in her own skin while being so aware of the moment is a more soulful and transformative trick than simply playing buyers for suckers. It’s what any good Chinatown grandma would want.
Photo credit: Kathy Lo