Fashion

Fashion

Ones to watch: The 4 up-and-coming designers you need to know now

4. J.W. ANDERSON

It’s out of control!” Designer J.W. Anderson is talking about: a) Phoebe Philo’s latest collection for Céline; b) a chocolate-mint ice cream cone; c) some dude carrying a boom box up Saint-Laurent; d) all of the above. The correct answer, of course, is D. It so happens that Irish-born Anderson (who, at 26, is one of the most exciting young womenswear and menswear designers in the game) is also the most excitable. When I meet him one afternoon in Montreal at the Aldo headquarters, where he’s collaborating with the brand on a Spring 2012 footwear collection, he complains of jetlag. All right, cool, but his “jetlag” makes an Adderall high look like a disco nap. Rangy and rarely still, with Irish blue eyes and an actor’s habit of running cool hands through a perfect coif, he talks like you blink: constantly.

It’s hardly all about himself, though there’s much to discuss. Anderson’s talent is magnetic. Even before graduating in menswear from the London College of Fashion, he assisted the stylist/photographer Manuela Pavesi, which led to dressing store windows for her best friend. (Her name’s Miuccia. Ring a bell?) In 2007 he debuted an accessories collection, which led to a boyswear look that became signature: private-school rebel with a lick of Victorian eccentricity. In 2010, he began translating his aesthetic for the other sex, tailoring womenswear to fit as it might on boys (snug, enticingly awkward). His third womenswear show (this past February) starred lush paisleys, swishy pleats and strict tailoring with outbursts of pure white mohair—a brilliant collection, and welcome proof that the masculine/feminine look will forever yield new revelations; he was the talk of all London town that week.

But Jonathan—his given name—would rather talk about, oh, everyone else in fashion. He is possessed of endless hearsay, cocksure opinions and a candour so disarming that sometimes I cover my tape recorder. But it’s refreshingly clear that, unlike other young designers who front like they’re anti-fashion, Anderson reveres his world. He believes fully in Alaïa, Balenciaga, Céline. In fact, mid-interview he whips out his laptop to look at resort shows on Style.com.

Near the end of our talk, which has turned into a long, cross-city walk, Anderson slows a little. He worries his success is too sudden; he’s already won a Topshop Newgen sponsorship, met Anna Wintour and been in the right magazines. “I don’t want to have ‘a moment,’” he says, “because what happens when it’s over?” But soon enough, he’s talking about more shoes to design, and whether he wants to do sunglasses, and how soon his brand might become profitable. Moment or not, it seems J.W. Anderson is—as he wouldn’t say—totally in control.