Daniel McCall sews rhapsodic about making it big on the small-batch fashion scene.

by ELIZABETH DYE
243-2122 ext. 335

Small-batch fashion design is a labor of love. The training opportunities are few and exclusive (and not even NYC's Parsons School of Design can teach you good taste). The industry is all but locked up. At one end you've got the Pradas of the world, and at the other, leviathan garmenterprises who cut corners on materials (not to mention labor) to rush the market with cheapo, clonelike pieces. Even if you do have the free time, inclination and do-re-mi to design clothing on your own, you still have to become a Jedi of the Singer to make clothes that don't scream "home-ec project!" Ergo, cheers to local style entrepreneurs Realm 8 and Androgyny. Both have chosen to seek their fashion fortune in artistically hospitable PDX by hawking their own designs and those of their peers out of smallish storefronts--one on the eastside, the other on the west end of downtown.

Realm 8's Belmont digs are on that stretch between Zupan's and the Avalon Theater, and halfway between a plush grocery and a video arcade seems a good metaphor for the hybrid look they're after. Heather Q and Jef, who recently fled Burlington, Vt., for Portland's slightly greener old-growth, stock their two-month-old store with an already diverse tangle of men's and women's clothing, bags, jewelry and piercing paraphernalia. To supplement their own lo-fi designs (mainly jewelry and silkscreened T-shirts), the pair offers American Pig tees, designs by NoPo's Resource Revival, Winky & Dutch rings and necklaces, and clothing by friends and acquaintances. When I admired a forest-green two-piece superheroine halter and miniskirt, Heather informed me, "Yeah, that's by a friend of mine who is in fashion-design school in London." The relaxed setup of the place means you never know what you'll get, but Realm 8's intrepid leaders ultimately want to achieve an aesthetic Jef calls "space-abilly"--that is, a misbegotten mix of future chic and rockabilly. Space-abilly. The word might not roll off the tongue, but let it drift in your head for a sec. Zip-up Tyvek jumpsuits with pompadours. Quilted rubber cowboy boots. Hell, yes, these kids are innovators!

Androgyny's tiny shopette between a tailor/dry cleaner and a liquor store on Southwest 10th Avenue might not seem the ideal ground zero for a Portland fashion explosion, but Daniel McCall, the store's owner and champion, has wanted this space for many moons. "I used to walk by it years ago when it was still occupied," he says. "When I got back from a trip to Japan, where wonderful things are done on a small scale, it appealed to me even more." With a single display rod for garments, vitrines in each window for jewelry, and a sewing table centered in the small room, Androgyny feels cozily efficient. The stock is selective and evolving; by walking in the door, you plunge into the design process. When I stopped in, Daniel was scrutinizing a Vera Wang pattern with a woman seeking a designer to stitch her custom wedding gown. Lengths of fabric hang cheek-by-jowl with finished garments, and customers navigating the store have to dodge the massive Bernina serger perched at table's edge.

Eugene local Daniel brings a decade of store display and apparel sales experience to the Androgyny project, which he hopes will serve as a gallery for creative-yet-sellable experiments in fashion--he imagines a harmonious blend of established designers, local talent and creative folk not "officially" in fashion, like painters.

Though locals may have walked right past it without giving it half a lunch hour, more-now-than-thou Paper magazine listed Androgyny in its January shopping guide for Portland. (Editor's note: WW's own Byron Beck penned the hip-list.) Here, Kirsten Moore's Piper Ewan line shares rack space with G-Spot's logo T-shirts and frisky jersey halter dresses in margarita-bright two-tone color combinations. Lydia Pagett, a PNCA student, showcases her Cloacine jewelry line here, including a Secret Power Ring with a set stone hiding under a silver cap.

Small design studio/stores like Androgyny and Realm 8 work without a net, often with beans for a budget. "A lot of this job is stress management," says Daniel, who works a morning job in order to staff Androgyny during the day, then toils into the evening managing the business and finishing pieces for the store. Living the dream is no picnic. But although ventures like Realm 8 and Androgyny wreak havoc on finances and social life, Heather Q, Jef and Daniel are happy to be here. "There can be a fashion scene in Portland," Daniel insists.

It's happening now. It's pretty damn cool, too. And now you know whom to thank.