Celebrating Paul Smith’s half-century
A new monograph tells the story of Paul Smith in 50 objects
The four floors of Paul Smith’s headquarters, in an austere building on a nondescript corner in London’s Covent Garden, are jammed to the rafters with art, books, bicycles and five decadesworth of interesting ephemera. The nerve centre is 74-year-old Smith’s own office, where shelves groan under the weight of vintage cameras, footballs, wind-up toys, magazines, musical instruments, books… anything (and possibly everything) that has caught Smith’s eye or tumbled into his in-tray over the past 50 years.
Paul Smith, a new Phaidon monograph out this month, describes the trajectory of the designer and his company across a glittering half-century via 50 objects, selected by the man himself. Considering Smith’s obsession with handsome/interesting/nifty things, it’s an apt way to tell the story of one of fashion’s great monoliths.
“The thing about Paul Smith, and it’s a remarkable thing, is that he truly sees,” says designer Jony Ive in his foreword to the book. “He doesn’t choose to see within predictable categories; he ignores the constraints established by the traditional dogmas of art and design. He doesn’t just see what interests him; he sees broadly and deeply — and embraces the world with a breathtaking rigour, focus and thoughtfulness. And he finds joy and delight and promise in what he sees.”
Paul Smith — the brand — began in 1970 as a tiny boutique in Nottingham, open only on Fridays and Saturdays and stocking clothes by other designers. Smith’s first collection came soon after, comprising two shirts, two pairs of trousers, two jackets, two pieces of knitwear and one suit. Fifty years on, the brand is not just a world-beater but a byword for “fashion”.
Even those who know or care little for style are aware of Paul Smith. They know his multicoloured stripes, which proved so popular he decided to get rid of them, temporarily. “I’ve always worked hard at no-brand,” he told Esquire in 2018. They know his suits, lined with loud colours and lairy prints. Perhaps they know the ebullient figure of Sir Paul Smith CBE RDI, a buoyant, charming and stolid fixture of pop culture.
The book offers a rich and varied litany of Smith’s many influences. There’s a story of tulips, whose colour a young, opportunistic Smith once used to catch the eye of Calvin Klein. There are musings on the charm of a Filofax, and we see Smith’s first camera, a Kodak Retinette, which he describes as his “birth of being creative”. The majesty of bicycles is discussed at length and we are introduced to Smith’s collection of miniature bronze rabbits. (They have been his good luck charm since the Eighties; his wife, Pauline, gifts him a new one before each of his shows.)
Books have traced the lives of great designers before, but few serve to double as a visual history of British popular culture. What this book deftly demonstrates is that Smith has not just been going for 50 years, he’s been interwoven with our national aesthetic for 50 years. “If you want to be in business for a long time,” he once told Esquire, “you can’t be snobby or stuck in the mud. You have to just flow with the river.”
○ Paul Smith (Phaidon), £50, is published on 14 October