This city boutique proves ''practical'' can also be ''playful'', writes Stephen Crafti.
GOLD letters on the smoked glass windows of Alistair Trung's new boutique in Little Collins Street don't mince words. ''I like to create clothing that doesn't give women a nervous breakdown'' says one quote. Another states: ''I always strive to bring the boy out of the girl and the girl out of the boy''. These are rare claims in an industry built on stereotypes.
Trung's store is also a reminder that retailing has a future. ''I think there's quite a shift in retailing. It's not just about putting clothes on people. It's about creating an experience.''
He looks at spaces the same way he approaches clothing. ''I apply the same principles. I see them both as abstract and open ended. It's not about decorating things for the sake of it. There has to be an idea to start with,'' says Trung, who worked with architect Tom Ravaard of Lean Production on the store fitout.
Located a metre below street level, passers-by can't help but peer into the cavernous space. Accessed by a floating steel staircase, the first perception is of a highly industrial aesthetic. Exposed pipes and airconditioning ducts traverse the concrete ceiling.
Trung refers to this cacophony of pipes and electrical fittings as his ''chandelier''. Lacquered polished concrete floors are juxtaposed with rough wall finishes, including a dramatic, three-dimensional plaster feature wall by artist Zeiya Vandenberg. She, together with Trung, have fashioned several sculptural plastered forms in the store, interspersed with mannequins. ''These plastered figures were a starting point for the design. ''I call them my voodoo sculptures,'' says Trung, whose chunky jewellery creates an interesting juxtaposition.
Framing the accessories are wall-to-wall steel racks, with clothing the focus. The change room is demarcated by hospital-like curtains. ''I tell my clients that it's my operating theatre. You emerge transformed,'' says Trung.
More like a home than a shop, Trung's store includes two comfy sofas covered with animal skins. A Mongolian goatskin draped over one sofa is certainly not for the faint hearted. ''I love connecting with nature. But I also get pleasure from combining opposite materials,'' says Trung, caressing a skin placed on the mild steel counter.
''Look at the plaster [mannequin] draped in cashmere …''
While the store appears to be designed organically, it has been finely construed by Trung and his collaborators. The stockroom is tucked out of sight and with row upon row of garments beautifully folded and clearly labelled, is as organised as the kitchen in a top restaurant.
''I have to have structure, even though things appear spontaneous. Like my clothing, the store has to be practical. But that doesn't mean things can't be playful,'' says Trung.
