Portraits and collection photography for EVB: Austin Green
Accessories and styling: Telfar Clemens
Boards and bikes: Model's own
Models: Frey Mudd, Abiah Hostvedt, Noma Han, and Ambrose Carter at Red NYC; David Thomas at Adam NYC; and Tyler White (unsigned)
I remember faces really well. It's a gift I never really asked for. It's been said that I can spot a bit actor who had appeared on some random episode of Wings or Six Feet Under, walking down West 4th street, and remember exactly what show and episode he or she was in. Again, I never asked for this gift. But, if you were to ask me what their name was, or more accurately, if you were to ask me what 70% of the people I encountered names were, I'd not only draw a blank, I'd most likely shift the focus to New York City's zoning laws or something equally drab. To put it plainly, when it comes to names, I've got room for improvement.
When I first met Telfar Clemens several years ago, I knew the name/face conundrum that had plagued me for years would be laid to rest. Telfar's persona practically begged for single name recognition, not unlike Madonna, Prince or Strangé (Grace Jones' character from the 1992 hit film Boomerang, naturally. C'mon, keep up with me people). He was young fashion hopeful that carried himself with an uncanny level of confidence and unwavering direction. At the time, I remember he was living in lower Manhattan, going to school and spending what time he had left over scouring the underbelly of Chinatown in search of materials to craft his designs. Over the years, I watched Telfar grow, not only as a young designer, but as a single-name-in-waiting.
A little while ago, EVB sent me on an assignment to chat with the Queens-to-Liberia-and-back-again New Yorker. During the course of our brief exchange, I got the sense that this drive, this need to design clothing, is a veritable "do or die" action for him. The mentality Telfar approaches design with is not unlike a bulldozer, blindly leveling ancient relics to pave the way to the future.
"In my life, (fashion) came before other aspects such as education or financial situations" he said. "I guess I had no choice but to give in to natural instinct and create my vision." His vision is simple: the progression and redefinition of American sportswear. From dabbling in his very outsiders take on the suburban grunge aesthetic, to transforming American sportswear staples into avant-garde drapery, his collections recall and almost pay tribute to the past, while quietly putting it to rest.
Recently, while working on one of his own collections for a guerilla showing during New York Fashion Week, Telfar was asked by American Apparel to collaborate on a small limited collection of garments that were made only using contents from a box of used T-shirts and scraps.
The collaboration, titled UN.DER T by TELFAR is his first collaboration with a brand of AA's scale. And the task was welcomed with open arms. He said about it, "American Apparel was gracious enough to support a young designer... It's great for a major company to support those who are up-and-coming".
Though fashion is clearly in his DNA, it has not been the only industry to get his creative juices flowing. If you've been around downtown New York City in the past five years, chances are you've danced to the sounds of TELFAR, not the designer but the DJ. "I started DJing in 2004. My friend Melisa Burns thought I would be great at it", he recalls. "Shortly after, I began my own party called 'Something Tight'. The rest is Lower East Side history".
But it was no Larry Levan bootleg nor Madonna studio outtake that he would sling as his secret weapon to get the crowds to a fever pitch. The clever (and shall we say 'naughty') young man would wait just until the crowds were swelling with sweat and hunger and drop trou, exposing himself to the crowd for the remainder of the night. I guess it was a rather literal take on the term "full frontal fashion". "I think that's history for me", he said when speaking of hanging up his 'naked DJ' title. "I thought it was hilarious for someone to be completely naked at a club, which it was. But this was before party photo websites. It loses it's edge if you see "IT" too much."
While he still DJs regularly around downtown, his pants now stay up, and his shirt is safely buttoned. By conversation end, I sensed that there was little chance he'd renege on his descision to stop the strip show. And I don't think it mattered to him one bit. There just isn't enough time for Telfar Clemens to stop and ponder the past. He's aggressively looking toward a future where his name is in lights, six letters long and recognizably solitary. Surname need not apply.
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