Timeless Skin: 25 Years of Donna Karan

While standing in the middle of an enormous walk-in closet in Donna Karan’s Central Park West apartment, Patti Cohen, Karan's publicist, says, “You realize they are more or less the same clothes.” I'm looking at the carefully sorted clothes, predominantly black with some variations of grayish olive, charcoal, and khaki—creating the effect of an uneven, large, striped pattern—which spill over onto two rolling racks that nearly block the entrance to the bathroom. “Is it more or less just the seven pieces but like 100 of each?” I ask. “Yes,” replies Ms. Cohen, “and the clothes are from over the years.”

By the “same clothes,” Ms. Cohen meant to say that the wardrobe in this closet is very concise, consisting mainly of Seven Easy Pieces—a bodysuit, a longer jacket, a dress, a wrap skirt, a blazer, a pair of leggings, and a blouse. These items form an interchangeable system that allows any woman to mix-and-match for a style that can transition from day into evening without constantly changing. 

In 1985, at a time when the role of women in America was rapidly evolving, Donna Karan launched her fashion company and built the brand from these seven pieces, termed “essentials.” That year, Dynasty was the number one television series, and in the real corporate world, more women were entering management positions and boardrooms as business professionals. Donna Karan, as a professional woman very much like those she aspired to dress, wanted her fashion to enhance women’s empowerment without compromising sensuality, and certainly without hiding voluptuousness. By simplifying how women dress, she offered functionality, simplicity, and mobility with her clothing—concepts foreign to designer fashion at a time when excess dominated, and light years before minimalism became the code word of the mid-‘90s. 

Born in Forest Hills, Queens and raised in Woodmere, Long Island, Ms. Karan's stepfather was a tailor and her mother a clothing wholesaler and part-time showroom model. Ms. Karan’s first job in fashion was as a salesgirl at a local shop, Shurrie’s, in 1962. By that age, she was already obsessed with fashion. Soon after, she enrolled at Parsons School of Design, but dropped out two years later after Anne Klein hired her as a summer intern. A year later, she joined the design team as an associate designer and as Ms. Klein’s right-hand person. While working there, she married Mark Karan, her first boyfriend. 

What followed is now considered one of fashion’s legendary tales. While Karan was in the hospital giving birth to her first daughter, the Anne Klein office informed her that Ms. Klein was too sick and that Karan had to finish the collection immediately. Her hospital room was converted to a temporary design office and she completed the collection while recovering from childbirth. Ms. Karan shared this story last February while giving a talk to celebrate a new Parsons master’s program on Fashion Design and Society in the lower Fifth Avenue Tishman Auditorium. 

In 1974, after Ms. Klein’s passing, Ms. Karan succeeded her boss as Designer of the Klein collection, where she created sophisticated sportswear alongside Louis Dell’Olio. She embarked on launching Anne Klein II, the first designer bridge collection in 1982, a precursor to today’s common business stratification in designer fashion: a premium collection with secondary lines at lower price levels with larger customer bases. Unsatisfied after a decade at Anne Klein, Ms. Karan, along with her second husband, Stephen Weiss, as well as the Anne Klein Company team of Japanese financiers, formed her own company under the name Donna Karan New York. New York, she said, because she wanted to instill the energy of her hometown into the spirit of the collections. 

Ms. Karan’s debut collection in 1985 was all black, and mostly fashioned from wool jersey; the collection was based around a bodysuit that any woman could wear as a foundation. She also designed a capsule collection of seven separate items that could be worn in different combinations, all to accentuate the body, and in particular, the hips. Her trademark style, now dubbed the Donna Karan system of dressing—the Seven Easy Pieces—remains in 2010 as it was in 1985, with seasonal changes in each piece, like the addition of a turtleneck, for instance. The collection never requires any embroideries or adornments of any kind, but perhaps a pin here or a brooch there to hold together a jacket or a skirt.  

Titled “Forever Black,” her Fall 2010 collection—the 25th year of the company—reflected the spirit that Ms. Karan started: sophisticated and seductive clothing without fanfare. There was a black matte jersey bodysuit over a wool organza lampshade skirt, a sheer black jersey crewneck bodysuit and black stretch double-face crêpe legging pants, a black gabardine-and-crushed-organza dress, and a black plunged neckline cool wool jersey bodysuit. The pieces are still interchangeable, but in concert with current fashion, the collection abandoned a great deal of frivolity and embraced a return to design.  

Though Ms. Karan's signature style has now become easily recognizable, her company has undergone tremendous changes. DKNY, a younger version of ready-to-wear clothes with lower price points and sportier looks, was launched in 1988 with menswear in 1992. By  the time the menswear line was rolled out, the company had over 14 divisions including fragrances and cosmetics, kids, hosiery, lingerie, and accessories with sales estimated at nearly $300 million. As with any business, and particularly a fashion business, the company went through some tumult due mainly to the high cost of rapid expansion. In 1997, the company succeeded with an initial public offering, and after a period of instability, Ms. Karan hired a CEO to run the business and thereafter stocks stabilized. Then came the LVMH purchase in 2001, and in the same year, the loss of her husband, Mr. Weiss, to cancer. In the ensuing decade since, Ms. Karan has remained the chief designer of the company and the collection that bears her name.  

Female fashion designers are rare. Even rarer are female fashion designers of the same rank as Donna Karan. It’s hard to generate any names that compare—it would not be an exaggeration to call Donna Karan our very own Coco Chanel. Living in different times and cultures, both women were confronted by the issues of their times—principally, how the role of women was shifting as society evolved. Their fashion creation was a personal response to their respective eras. Both wanted a simpler way of dressing. One preferred adapting men’s styles like jackets made from the jerseys of men’s undergarment fabrics, while the other opted for a wardrobe of garments that engendered the woman’s sensuous body.   

“Without a doubt, Donna is the most important and influential women’s designer in America today,” said Valerie Steele, the Director and Chief Curator of the Museum at FIT in New York. “Her designs have the strength and longevity to become classic clothes even if they change in different seasons. They have always been sensual clothes designed by a woman, for a woman.”  

The massive closet is connected to Ms. Karan’s bedroom from a hallway on the northern end of the apartment, while the yoga room is on the southern side. On the left of her bed is a large metallic statue of Buddha, in a meditative pose, with two sets of black candles and some crystals near its feet. “Do you want some juice?” Ms. Karan asks me as we sit down on a long black sofa near her bed. By juice, she means a delicious concoction of freshly ground vegetables, semi-solid with a dark green color.  

As we begin the interview, we look out onto 66th street and Central Park, visible through the near-sheer shades. 

Fashion has always been a very personal thing for you. How did you start your brand? 

I basically started making clothes for me and for some of my friends. I wasn’t looking to be a big fashion designer or brand or anything like that. It was not my intention. I just wanted clothes, because I had been designing for a large company, Anne Klein, and I just wanted to make clothes that were more personal for my friends and me. 

What were the pieces? 

The first thing I did was a bodysuit because I do yoga everyday. So, it was a bodysuit, a wrap-and-tie skirt, a blazer, a jacket, a pair of pants, a coat, and an evening piece with sequins—something to go from day into evening.

Do you think that over the past 25 years, women have changed their attitudes to fashion, or have you changed your attitude towards fashion?

I think so. I think women are much more expressive now than they were when I started. It was a very conservative time in the ‘70s and ‘80s. It was about working women, and they were all in suits, and as people were celebrating more and going out more, they found their femininity. What I mean by femininity is a freedom of the feminine, and a freedom of expression. 

How have you changed with that? 

I think the clothes got the ability to be more artistic, [and I changed the] modernity of fabrication. [At the beginning], it was basically jersey and cashmere. Not that I still don't love that, but technologically, fabrics have changed innovations in fabrications. So, to me, fabric talks. It's like an artist: when working with your fabric, it tells you what to do. Particularly in this fall collection, it was very much about ‘sculptural’ and air. Season-less, and, of course, timeless. I think the modality of the clothes that go from day to evening absolutely remains the same for me, because I think women are constantly on the go, constantly busy. 

Throughout your whole career, your fashion was never really about trends. 

No. I would never say, ‘Oh, well this is the trend of the season.’ It’s always been more about a creative expression of what was a synergy between self and fabrication and the body and an inspiration. Something always saying, ‘I want to explore that. I want to go into that.’ It’s always a visual connection, a visceral connection to an inspiration.

What do you think of those days in the late-‘90s when everything had big logos? Did you feel that your design was not in competition with the other people who were doing logo-style stuff and trendy stuff? Was maintaining your vision very difficult? 

No, I always stayed true to myself, because I was dressing myself and all my friends. It was always very defined, what I wanted to express emotionally. I never went, ‘Oh, it’s about this now.’ I never liked wearing logos. It was something that I personally wouldn't wear.

What do you think of the today’s young designers? 

I think fashion is constantly growing. I think there's always room for the next dimension. I was one of them. Everybody’s a young designer [at first]; we all grow old; we all go to the next dimension.

Do you think that some of the young designers are becoming designers too fast, like no one takes time to work at a company and learn the necessary skills? There's no apprentice system anymore. It’s almost like you graduate and you're the designer on the pedestal the next day. Do you think that’s too fast now?

It appears that way. To be a designer is hard. It's not just, ‘Oh, I want to be a designer,’ and you're a designer. 

Why is it so hard? 

It’s competitive. You have to have a vision that has longevity. It’s not just about a season, it’s about identifying. I always say to somebody, ‘Please work at a department store before you go out and be a designer.’ You [have to] realize how clothes really work, and you have that relationship to a woman—for a female designer, not for a man. And then there’s so much out there. What's going to make you different and yet commercial is a balance between the art and the commerciality. So, it’s a very deep understanding of how to become a designer.

Do you think there’s a difference between a woman designing for women versus a man designing for women? 

I think its much easier for a woman, in a lot of respects, to take it personal, because she wears it. She understands it—what works on her body, what doesn't work on her body. There's a much more realistic approach. 

How did DKNY come about? 

DKNY was about my need and desire for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Again, a very personal thing. Also, my children were all wearing my clothes. I said they couldn't wear Donna Karan, because it was a luxury label. And I wanted to do men’s clothes, I wanted to do women's clothes, I wanted to do children’s clothes, I wanted to be able to really address the essentials of fashion. T-shirts, jeans, outerwear, jumpsuits. The approach was different than with the Seven Easy Pieces that we needed in our life. DKNY was about the streets of New York.

But it was all in a cohesive vision? 

DKNY, for me, was life. Donna Karan was life, but it was very specific. It was very focused, for a particular customer. DKNY was for me, for just everybody. I wanted everybody to be able to touch it and feel it.  

How did Urban Zen come about? What is the concept? 

Urban Zen for me is really a personal journey. I had this vision about 12 years ago, and I said, ‘Where do you find the calm in the chaos of what we live in?’ And being very philanthropically driven means, ‘How can I join philanthropy and commerce?’ I needed a place, and I don't mean that word because it’s so trite, but it was that place where I could find the calm, express my mind, body, and spirit. I love to travel around the world, and [Urban Zen was about] being able to explore how to make a difference by creating a community that’s conscious and wants change in healthcare, education, and culture. And, for me, it’s all tied into the whole world. My husband passed away from lung cancer and he was my partner in Donna Karan, and in his studio was the birth of Urban Zen, where I could bring people together. Like last night I had Bob Amal there. Bob Amal is from Senegal, and it was extaordinary to feel the energy of another culture, to realize how we can be aware of that or the teachings. I do cooking classes there, nutritional. We have the Urban Zen integrative therapist program. What’s missing in the world beyond the world of fashion? Healthcare and education and culture. It really gives me an opportunity to work alongside people who want to make a difference in the world.

It’s not religious or anything? It’s just a matter of being aware of different things that are going on? 

Well, for me, it’s also a way of really embracing the world from the East and the West in modalities. I’ve always been drawn to the East, so it’s a question of being able to look at the world through a different lens. I was hoping that at Urban Zen we would be the launch pad, that these modules of Urban Zen could be all around the world. It gave me an artistic expression, to be able to not be in season as we know season to be. It’s season-less, it’s timeless, it’s effortless. It definitely starts with the bodysuit—all about the body—and the ease of a t-shirt. A t-shirt can go from day into evening.

The clothes at Urban Zen are for all year? 

That’s the beauty of Urban Zen. It allows me to be in season and not adhere to the wholesale model of selling. 

You have talked about what’s wrong with the current fashion system. Do you think you have to do so many collections? 

It’s a rhythm that everybody’s gotten into. I don't believe in the rhythm. Personally, I think that we should be getting back into season. I think we’re absolutely training people for ‘white sale’ business, that we should buy clothes on sale. By the time the season comes, it’s already been there three months before it’s ready to go on sale. I think the rhythm of our business is wrong. I don’t think the consumer should be seeing fashion shows. I think it should be done like the movie industry where it gets launched and then the consumer sees it. I think the whole idea of going online with your clothes for the customer six to eight months in advance is confusing to what’s in the store right now. I mean, the whole message is not in sync with the customers. The beauty of online is to be able to find out what’s happening now—sustainable information—but the hype of the fashion shows confuses people. 

So, you think there should be fewer collections? 

No, I think the industry has to work on long lead, the way you do in the movie industry. You preview it for your industry, but you don't communicate that to the customers. 

Do you think the fashion show is still a relevant way of showing clothes to customers? 

I think the fashion shows have gotten too out of hand. They’ve become hypes. 

Do the shows communicate design? 

Yeah, I think fashion communicates design. Certainly in any collection that I show, it’s real. I’m not looking to create a show that’s not a show. I’m not looking to create, how do you say, a fashion show for fashion show purposes. If I was, that’s an artistic show, and I appreciate that as well. I saw Alexander McQueen’s show the other night. It was extraordinary, absolutely extraordinary. It was a work of art. 

Is that… ‘fashion’? 

Well, it’s a part of fashion. It’s the art of fashion. And I know that Alexander was able to really harness both worlds. When he wanted to express an artistic expression, he was able to do it, and then he was as good a craftsman as any in creating commercial clothes.

Do you think the seven pieces you started the company with are still relevant today? Do you update them or are they the same over the years?

Absolutely. It amazes me to realize their longevity. Yes, the jacket is always going to be a jacket. We've looked at it over time, what makes this jacket different than the next jacket, with the shoulder pads bigger or the shape of the silhouette. The basic energy behind the system of dressing is as relevant or even more relevant than it was then. We need to make our lives easier, not more complicated. Particularly when you’re traveling around the world. Now, one minute you’re in Bali, the next minute you’re in China, then you’re in Paris and London. We travel the world. That travel was not as innate as what it is today, as it was when I started. So those Seven Easy Pieces are so much more important now in terms of dressing. You always have to get ready to stay home, go out. Throw it on, throw it off. That’s what I think I love about my clothes. They work for me that way, whether I’m at the beach or here in the city. They work on the streets, they work at night, they work lounging around. I can be in bed, I can be out of bed, I don’t care. It’s allowing my body to express itself. And be free and comfortable at the same time. More women now, I think, yearn for that.

As I’m leaving, Ms. Karan is standing at the apartment entrance near the elevator. I notice that she has just put on a black jacket over the black dress she’s worn most of the afternoon. I remember she’d told me earlier that she was having an early dinner party that evening at her apartment. On the elevator down from the 16th floor of her building, I realize why so many women are so connected to the way Ms. Karan approaches her design: she makes it easier for a woman to get dressed, without the fuss of being fashionable. Her designs stem from her emotions and how the clothes she makes look and feel on her. 

I wonder if there is a saying that you can never know someone until you have looked into their closets. If Ms. Karan’s premise as a designer was to make the clothes she felt missing from her closet, then she certainly has fulfilled her ethos. To see Ms. Karan’s real accomplishments in fashion, you don’t need to read the rave reviews of her recent fashion shows from critics and retailers. You don’t need to know what celebrities clamor for her clothes. All you need, given a rare chance, is to visit her packed closet.