Inside the white cube

sense of entitlement a number of the ‘older’ fashion designers in the city do. It’s sort of like his new flagship store that takes a Japanese vibe and clicks it into place with the off-white Indian sensibility he started out with.

“I always ran away from retail because of the direct feedback that the designer starts getting. Then you only start catering to retail, and the instinct of design takes a backseat; you start doing what sells the most,” he says, acknowledging that 85-90% of couture in India is dedicated to occasion and bridal wear.

“Today, I am very comfortable, because my team keeps me away from what is selling, what is not. I only have to design clothes and a separate team, which includes my wife, Divya, who is the director, takes care of the rest.”

He can’t afford to be sucked into details like how many pieces are selling and what people are looking for, even in the lucrative wedding market, because he needs to keep his eye on the ball. Especially since it’s now been six seasons at the Paris Fashion Week. “When fashion critic Suzy Menkes or anyone is reviewing our collection, she is seeing other shows also. She may be reviewing it after Alexander McQueen or Valentino, so we have to up our work to that level,” he says.

Now, he’s taken embroidery and craftsmanship and infused them in Indian silhouettes for the India Couture Week, though he says his store is not going to be all about the big fat Indian wedding. In October, he will launch his western wear collection here, from Paris Fashion Week.

When he decided to open a store, he began looking around at other designers’ stores, and felt that they all felt decadent. “You can’t fill an already filled piece of paper,” he says. So he wanted something detailed but clean, almost an art gallery, where the pieces on display were the points of focus.

His design brief to interior architect Alina Vadera, founder of Ava Studio, was simple: “I asked for a white cube.” She had already designed the Ogaan and Shantanu and Nikhil stores, amongst others, and appreciated the fact that Mishra understood the design process.

A calm approach

You enter what is approximately a 2,000 sq ft store, part of a complex that houses other labels. The interiors, including the concrete floor (Pandomo), are all off-white, with subtle ash wood touches in the racks, doors and windows, to keep the warmth. In the middle of the room is a ficus that seems to grow out of a centre table (Mishra loves greenery and nature). The faux skylight that’s backlit gives the feel of a space that has ample natural light. Gallery-style lighting puts the clothes in focus.

“We wanted to maintain the brief of white-on-white, but create a different experience through textures,” says Vadera.

A recessed area, called The Atelier, curtained off with ivory linen, allows the designer space to meet with clients and discuss customisation. “Bridal wear is all about see-now-buy-now: you see it on the runway and the next day it is ready for sale.”

One month into setting up the store, and he says they’re crossing 1 crore rev- enue. He’s adamant that the store is not just to sell, but is also brand communication.

Blank canvas

He can transform the interiors into anything he likes: a showcase for a Parisian buyer, a place to show the media his latest work, or even a space for collaborative interdisciplinary work where an artist may choose to do an installation.

“World over, ready-to-wear and multibrand couture stores are shutting down, but people still like to go to a particular designer whose work they are familiar with,” he says, of his decision to start a store at a time when online retail is making dents.

On this clean palate, the flowers, birds and butterflies on each garment come to life, with some taking as many as 3,000 hours of work.

At present, the wedding collection is being displayed: a floaty organza sari with paani ka kaam,zardozi and French knots — all in off-white and gold. “It’s controlled bling — our way of doing bridal wear. It’s about the workmanship — that can be a lot, but it’s all light-weight,” he says.

There aren’t more than a 100 clothes here, because each must be given its due. The racks, with slotted grooves, ensure you can turn the hanger to see the cape or kurta against cove lighting that washes the back of each garment.

There are terraniums everywhere, to continue the theme of fluidity and openness. The white mosaic flooring in ‘the inner room’ mirrors the scalloped hemlines you’ll often see on a Mishra garment. Simplicity is at the heart of the store.

“It’s a work in progress,” says the designer, pointing to the bare walls and the fact that the modular design ensures things can be shifted around. Perhaps he will put up pieces of embroidery or even pictures of his embroidery artists, who he has supported in his endeavour towards reverse migration, and the way they live and work.

But he’s not convinced, and so has left it bare. There’s so much to do: home, menswear. “After all, we are yet to arrive,” he concludes.-thehindu.com