Bryan Bradley—for all the pretty frocks on which he's built his career as the designer of Tuleh—is hardly a one-note man. He's charmed the ladies, both uptown and downtown, for seven years, mixing the positively pretty with a dark, subversive humor. And since he's been designing the line on his own after four years with partner Josh Patner, Bradley is indulging in the latter, more and more, to the delight of the fashion press.
Who or what inspires you?
I've come to think that it's just me. Me, as in the pattern of how my friends and I are living now, what's interesting right now that wasn't before, how my priorities are changing. I also track the shifting look, lingo, habits, manicure trends, hairdos of the true arbiters of style—the black and Latina sistas—like a bloodhound. They're always what's next. Lastly, the power of bad taste cannot be overestimated.
Do any other designers—past or present—particularly inspire you?
The Misters: Yves Saint Laurent, Yohji Yamamoto, Martin Margiela, Walter Albini, Christian Lacroix. The Misses: Sonia Rykiel, Jean Muir, Zandra Rhodes, and Mary McFadden.
What's the first thing you start with when you design?
I consciously try and refrain from thinking about it much. I love a little mystery, resist hard and fast definitions, and never finish anything, including a thought. In a way, it's clear mostly only to me—I'm always writing a story in designing a collection. I'm no good with plot; character development is my thing, which partly explains why Tuleh resists an easy and static definition.
What puts you in the design mood?
Dewar's [whiskey] and Parliament [cigarettes].
You designed Tuleh with a partner from 1998 to 2002. How is the process different now?
Design—real, obsessive, insanity-producing, fucking intense design—is a solitary (and, for me, often solemn) process. Josh and I were constantly stomping on each other's toes. The following is particular to me, not necessarily applicable to designers in total, but it's a totally personal, singular, nighttime, excruciatingly slow, confused, angst-provoking experience.
What does it take to be a designer?
Three things, which are fortunate for me: I can draw both technically and expressively; I understand the fundamentals of drafting patterns and construction; and I can easily (pretty much) translate between one, two, and three dimensions—i.e., I know how something is going to look on a body without actually seeing it on.
Do you often look to another industry for inspiration?
Contemporary art is an obvious candidate, though a dicey one. Fashion and art are not a natural combo. It's like something akin to the tension between two sisters. One is introverted, shy, brilliant, and, well, ugly; the other, young, sexy, outrageously charming, incorrigible, and beautiful.
What have you not yet designed that you would most love to?
How much time have you got?
—Venezia Seido
Posted 09.12.05
Photos: Bradley Harrison/Getty Images (Bradley, Tuleh)
Who or what inspires you?
I've come to think that it's just me. Me, as in the pattern of how my friends and I are living now, what's interesting right now that wasn't before, how my priorities are changing. I also track the shifting look, lingo, habits, manicure trends, hairdos of the true arbiters of style—the black and Latina sistas—like a bloodhound. They're always what's next. Lastly, the power of bad taste cannot be overestimated.
Do any other designers—past or present—particularly inspire you?
The Misters: Yves Saint Laurent, Yohji Yamamoto, Martin Margiela, Walter Albini, Christian Lacroix. The Misses: Sonia Rykiel, Jean Muir, Zandra Rhodes, and Mary McFadden.
What's the first thing you start with when you design?
I consciously try and refrain from thinking about it much. I love a little mystery, resist hard and fast definitions, and never finish anything, including a thought. In a way, it's clear mostly only to me—I'm always writing a story in designing a collection. I'm no good with plot; character development is my thing, which partly explains why Tuleh resists an easy and static definition.
What puts you in the design mood?
Dewar's [whiskey] and Parliament [cigarettes].
You designed Tuleh with a partner from 1998 to 2002. How is the process different now?
Design—real, obsessive, insanity-producing, fucking intense design—is a solitary (and, for me, often solemn) process. Josh and I were constantly stomping on each other's toes. The following is particular to me, not necessarily applicable to designers in total, but it's a totally personal, singular, nighttime, excruciatingly slow, confused, angst-provoking experience.
What does it take to be a designer?
Three things, which are fortunate for me: I can draw both technically and expressively; I understand the fundamentals of drafting patterns and construction; and I can easily (pretty much) translate between one, two, and three dimensions—i.e., I know how something is going to look on a body without actually seeing it on.
Do you often look to another industry for inspiration?
Contemporary art is an obvious candidate, though a dicey one. Fashion and art are not a natural combo. It's like something akin to the tension between two sisters. One is introverted, shy, brilliant, and, well, ugly; the other, young, sexy, outrageously charming, incorrigible, and beautiful.
What have you not yet designed that you would most love to?
How much time have you got?
—Venezia Seido
Posted 09.12.05
Photos: Bradley Harrison/Getty Images (Bradley, Tuleh)
Tuleh's fall 2005 collection
