The brilliance of Jacques van der Watt

Twenty years on, Sylvia McKeown reflects on how Black Coffee has come full circle

It started back in 2010. A friend invited me to be a part of a project he was working on, making tiny books for his friend’s fashion collection. I had known of Jacques van der Watt and his label, Black Coffee, for a while. I had even taken my savings and bought their iconic concept dress as my graduation outfit. So it was surreal, years later, to be sitting across from the man himself, folding what felt like millions of origami shapes.

He and our ragtag team — a Lothario, an illustrative marvel, a crazy/genius Japanese performance artist and the then other half of Black Coffee, Danica Lepen — pulled off hand-making 100 tiny black books just in time for their collection launch at Arts on Main. I was so proud, seeing my work next to theirs: beautifully imagined clothes where books and scarves merged into wearable objects.

It would be the first of many times I was invited to work alongside him, be it in furniture design, cutting out tiny bits of fabric with Japanese blades, building puzzle-like plastic mannequins, failing at making jewellery or fixing Photoshop designs. I once made a soundtrack for a Japanese dance performance that was built out of recordings of my voice reading a poem inspired by the cycle of creation — yes, it was as dramatic as it sounds.

Van der Watt has a way of inspiring ambitious feats and greatness in those who work with him. He has taught me to push myself until I get a result I’m proud of. To work alongside those who inspire me but to always be true to my own aesthetic voice.

It’s a beautiful thing to see when the magic starts to happen after months of WhatsApps and Instagram messages going back and forth

To see the world through the smaller details and find joy in the creative process.

A process that starts months before a single thread has been sewn. He curates his inspiration with a researcher’s precision, and this time around — for his collection shown last week at South African Fashion Week — was no exception.

He delved into the knitted world of the ’60s, investigating librarian chic, hand weaving and crocheted pantsuits. He spent nights drawing his interpretations of these images, then meticulously pinned and cut all the patterns himself in his 44 Stanley workshop, with a handful of staff.

It’s a beautiful thing to see when the magic starts to happen after months of WhatsApp and Instagram messages going back and forth. Nothing is thrown together. It’s all considered and cared for.

It’s almost fitting that his collection is called Orbit. The work circles back on some of the label’s previous work while still being a new evolution of the brand. You can see methods used in previous collections scattered through the line, such as laser cutting, ribbon work and the weaving of thread through mesh. You can spot the playful, bright, warm colours alongside the classic rich paring of monotones and red. But most of all you can see that it feels new.

My favourite is what I like to call the “Incan-Swiss” look: thick, boxy, luscious black woollen pieces lined with red and adorned with ribbon and red pom-poms. It is at once retro and modern, understated and powerful. It’s an instant classic look that will turn into the type of piece you could wear in many years’ time.

Possibly even 20 years’ time, in fact.