By his own reckoning, Bernhard Willhelm lives “a rather abstract life.” He’s not known for staying put, for example. Only recently, he decamped from Los Angeles to Piedmont, Italy, a region traditionally known for wool textiles. “I’m trying to explore new ways of existing as a designer,” he mused. He’s been renovating his Paris showroom and dabbling in a few other projects, too, including one with Juergen Teller. Today his business is leaner by half, but he said it’s doing better than ever: “There are no rules in fashion, but hopefully you get wise.”
One of fashion’s lone German indie designers, Willhelm has a very particular aesthetic. But he has also proved he’s a survivor. Next year will mark his brand’s 20th anniversary. That merits celebration, but “it won’t involve waterfalls,” he said slyly. He’d rather prove that he still has design chops. And anyway, he hasn’t held on to any archives. His biggest collectors are museums, notably the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
For Spring, the designer continued to experiment with the urban-leaning Tropical collection, led by Anubis, the Egyptian god of the afterlife. An “oceaning feeling” took shape in “toxic sunset” colors (on T-shirts), and aquatic hues were interspersed with sharks, fins, and other motifs from the deep. Willhelm again collaborated with artist Stefan Maier, whose dotted print formed a stingray, and with Carsten Flock, whose typography included “gender balancing” flowers and several politically charged patches. But there was a spiritual element to the pieces, too—painted “black hole” sections were for absorbing negative vibes. Elsewhere, Willhelm revisited his kimono obsession; this time in bleached wide-wale corduroy turned horizontally with an oceanic cross and draping in back. Draped dresses and “hula” skirts could be worn in a couple different ways.
Loyalists will likely snap up the asymmetrical sweatshirts and sweatshirt dresses with spray-painted accents and fringe. A white silk dress with blue tie-dye and a ruffled neck would be at home in California or Ibiza. “We’ve done universal clothes from the outset,” said Willhelm. “Gender was never a part of it.” Tellingly, the designer’s uniforms are worn by no small number of art-world types.
Willhelm has closed out his American chapter, but that’s not enough to stop him from taking on politics: A bag proclaimed Dump Trump with a “Trumptweetie” bird logo. There were Pope hats proclaiming 100 pools, 150 jeeps, 200 rooms. One California souvenir, a beach bag with a Schwarzenegger-ish likeness inspired by the scene on Venice Beach before Google moved in, will be a collector’s item the minute it hits shelves.
