Lynde Low: profound silliness in novel design

I fondly summon to memory the first time I had the pleasure of meeting Lynde Low, a twenty-year old fashion student attending the highly acclaimed Otis College of Art and Design in L.A. On that particular night both she and I were the reluctant guests attending a typical college house bash in Tempe. The good rapport that ensued between us was promptly established by our shared lack of zeal vis-à-vis our immediate surroundings, as soberly tolerating obscenely drunk strangers is never a joyous experience.

My interest was acutely piqued by the overall appearance of the young lady in question. Lynde sported a defiantly un-coiffed, cropped, bleach-blonde style – a perfect complement to her exceedingly diminutive frame. Her look was punctuated by an all-textile necklace adorned by hand-sewn rosettes of varying sizes, colors, and patterns and spanning a length of roughly three feet. Amidst the anticipated dominant presence of Abercrombie and 7’s (predictably coupled with lace-trimmed camisoles) Lynde positively stood out as a model of exceptional originality.

The delightful conversations that would follow generally granted particular attention to criticism of the Phoenix fashion scene. A Phoenix native herself, Lynde had resolved to transfer to Otis after one year of study at ASU, partially ascribing the conspicuous absence of a viable fashion industry in Arizona due to a marked dearth of institutions offering exceptional instruction and training in Fashion, Art and Design.

The censure would extend to the deficiency of retailers providing the resources necessary for professional design and construction of apparel. “I couldn’t find a single place that sells pattern paper,” she objected, dismayed and impatient to return to L.A., where such provisions are widely and readily available.

Parsons School For Design, the East coast giant of Art and Design education, had been briefly considered as a potential destination for cultivating and refining her craft. Its alumni include Tom Ford, Donna Karen, Isaac Mizrahi, and Susie, Lynde’s mother, to name a few. Lynde opted to matriculate at Otis instead; she dismisses Parsons as being “too big, too dark, and scary – no room to do your own thing.” She paints a somber picture.

For Lynde, pursuing education in L.A. was an easy choice – the locale offered an atmosphere that is more in sync with her West coast sensibilities. “It’s young and fresh here – more fun. There is also more emphasis on working with natural fibers; eco-design is stressed.” It is this difference, according to Lynde, that promotes a conceptual reinvention of high fashion – a clean design unsullied by the excess and decadence of traditional forms.

In Phoenix, as in any given American metropolis, there is no scarcity of or limited access to vendors offering readymade, mass-produced labels. Malls are plentiful. Seemingly, the enduring tension between commercialism and Art has emerged in the course of the past quarter-century to attain a degree of historically unparalleled magnitude.

The modern artist has to contend with the attempt to preserve the integrity of unique, original output – a daunting endeavor when levied against the pressure to accommodate the increasing need for mass-produced copies. Conversely, the modern consumer is forced to choose between the easily obtainable and affordable, although derivative, versus that which is gloriously inimitable albeit remarkably costly and elusive.

Indeed, few select Phoenix boutiques purvey exemplars of craftsmanship that signal creative expression to resolutely reflect the intrinsic artistic quality of couture fashion. The Purple Lizard, located on 15th Ave. and Thomas, has retailed Lynde’s own pieces in the past. (“I haven’t sold there in a year,” she laughs when I inform her of wishing to include the afore-mentioned factoid in my article.) Unfortunately, such independent shops are few and far between.

Offering a personal solution to this predicament, Lynde employs and encourages the incorporation of clever, offbeat accessories for the purpose of establishing a clear sense of individuality and stylistic identity. The hallmark of her design is the utilization of hand-felted wool, dyed and assembled to create whimsical statement pieces that would enliven and personalize otherwise unassuming ensembles.

In crafting lengthy necklaces, felted oversized spheres are strung along twine or rope with the resultant effect being bold yet playful. A latest quirky creation involves the fashioning of fanny-packs from her medium of choice -- hand-processed felt. The uncluttered, straightforward construction emphasizes the color and texture aspects of the piece.

The overall tone is decidedly lighthearted. “I make silly things!” Lynde once exclaimed in that endearing smoker’s rasp of hers. That may be true. My intuitive hunch, however, is that profound meaning resides in these “silly” things. Creative fashion design is a legitimate medium of self-expression and the couturier is a true artist, extracting poetic lyricism from that which is mundane and commonplace.