Teutonic tenacity takes over
A decade ago, fashion pundits would surely have scoffed at the idea that Germany might provide desirable fashion labels by the end of the millennium. The extraordinary success of Jil Sander and Hugo Boss - plus Escada, which caters for a less restrained, glitzier sector of the market but is very popular in Hong Kong - has demonstrated what Teutonic tenacity and quality can achieve.
In the European clothing stakes, the new Germany is beginning to give France and Italy a run for their Euro-money. And now there is Strenesse.
'Strenesse' is a made-up word. Given the ascent of German fashion, its roots are slightly ironic: it's a combination of Strehle, a clothing company's family name, and jeunesse, the French word for youthfulness. It was coined back in the 1970s when association with France, even in a simple word ending, was deemed the ultimate, well, chic.
The wordsmith was Gerd Strehle whose father founded the family firm in Nordlingen in 1948.
The range of womenswear the company produced was well-made but definitely not chic: it consisted mainly of coats and suits for enclosing the generous proportions of the local female population.
'Such sizes,' marvels Strehle, still nonplussed by the memory years later. He is not a large man but he spreads his hands wide, like a rueful fisherman: 'From here to here. So when I joined I immediately started a second line.' He had no intentions of being either a businessman or a designer: his first love was the piano which he studied in Munich. 'I wanted to be the best piano player in the world and my parents were clever enough to let me do it [practise]. And I was pragmatic enough to realise after one semester that I should go into the family business.' So he studied economics in Cologne, came home to Nordlingen and decided the firm should start making pant suits. He also began to recruit young designers and one of them, who came on board in 1973, is now the company's creative genius. Her name is Gabriele Strehle because, in 1985, she became Gerd's wife.
'We married after more than 10 years of fighting over collections,' her husband observes with a grin. 'She tells everybody that the father of her husband hired her. Not her husband.' They have a daughter, Clara, aged seven.
The Strehles, quarrels notwithstanding, were united in wanting to make Strenesse a classic line. Before Gabriele's arrival, the firm had briefly fiddled about with avant-garde fashion - no doubt a reaction to the more staid lines for which the company was known, as well as an attempt to express the wacky happening spirit of the 1970s.
'That changed very fast. My wife brought a very clean, clear personal style. Our intention was to build up a high-level brand.' Their clothes are of exceptionally high quality, the sort of well-cut classic garments that murmur, rather than shriek, style. Shades are described as 'caviar' and 'honeycolour', lines are 'fluid' and 'feminine'. 'If I meet a woman and I want to remember her afterwards, the memory should come from the face, not the clothes,' remarks Strehle.
He acknowledges this low-key excellence means that not everyone is aware of Strenesse's strengths. 'The Americans are the genuises of marketing, if you look at Donna Karan, Calvin Klein . . . We are the champions of the product itself.
'We like to say that Strenesse is a luxury designer product with a realistic approach to the market. And the time of status labels will soon be over.' Yes, indeed. Strenesse came into Hong Kong four years ago, through The Swank Shop, and is doing well - a free-standing shop in The Landmark opened in June - but Strehle, who was combining this visit with one to South Korea, could be forgiven for some despondency. He maintains, however, that belt-tightening is a fashion, too, and one he can live with and eventually turn to the company's benefit.
'There is a change of perception of high-level brands: people want something because they like its quality, not its label,' he says. He certainly seems to be taken with Hong Kong's own style. During this interview in The Landmark shop, he was distracted by a woman leaping in and out of some Strenesse combinations before a mirror. 'I like it, I like it,' he kept saying, watching her with professional curiosity. 'I find the Chinese have a great skill for matching things. Yesterday, when I arrived, I walked around looking at these young, fashionable girls and I like their taste. It's good the way that we have come in here, step by step.' 'Step by step' is his favourite phrase and clearly his modus operandi as well. This cautious expansion is how he has operated in Germany (where he and Jil Sander are now the two top names), in Italy (Strenesse is often considered an Italian brand), the US (which discovered the name only this year 'because I waited until America came to us' which eventually the New York buyers did) and East Asia.
Still, you can't slow down a surefire runaway success. Japan, in particular, has been a dream story of galloping sales. Within two years of arriving there, it had become Strenesse's biggest market after Germany.
So now Strehle is considering other forms of expansion. Menswear? 'My wife would like to do it tomorrow, but for me it's a long-term strategy. It's an interesting field: you know, I think Prada is better in its menswear than its womenswear.' Fragrance? 'Also in the future. But not long-term. Middle-term.' Underwear and hosiery? 'We are in discussion with a company.' Strehle has managed to turn around his father's company and establish a solid base in a world of whims and trends (and neurotic stock markets) - and this year's enthusiastic response from the United States augurs well for Strenesse's giant journey, step by step, into the future.
