Dice Kayek’s Ece Ege doesn’t like to be labeled, nor does she offer mood boards to substantiate her collections with some kind of more or less meaningful narrative—actually, she’s slightly annoyed when asked, “What’s your inspiration?” Yet this time, she conceded to the game of references so popular among designers. Delving into the rich history of Turkey, which is her birthplace, she wanted to “channel Ottoman dandies,” she explained, particularly the cultivated style of Osman Hamdi Bey, a multitalented genius living at the end of the 19th century: A politician, philosopher, painter, and archeologist, he founded the Istanbul Archaeology Museums and the Mimar Sinan Fine Arts University, and was always impeccably turned out in traditional Turkish garb, with elegant nods to the formal Western style of dressing.
Masculine tailoring is often the foundation of Ege’s minimalist design, so it made sense for her to take a cue from the unisex appeal of traditional men’s caftans and sarouels. Tackling the gender-fluid conversation, she gave her spin on rigorous, streamlined construction to the elongated shapes of roomy tunics and drop-crotch loose pants. “Mixing heritage and comfort,” she said. To drive home her point, she had the collection’s lookbook shot on a pair of brother and sister models, almost identical in their angelic, androgynous looks.
Yet Ege’s approach is deceptively simple; she loves an emphatic volume and, in her hands, even the cleaner shape becomes terse and crisp, almost as if filled with air. There’s also a subtle play on decoration, even if she doesn’t favor embellishments. In the Spring collection, the caftan shape was given as many iterations as possible, equally wearable by a boy or a girl. A classic long version in pearl gray or white was cut from fresh cotton poplin and worn with sarouels and sneakers, while more romantic interpretations had drawstring collars and broderie anglaise appliquéd bell sleeves. Voluminous sleeves demanded attention also on an ethereal tunic in virginal white gauze cotton, flourishing with an abundance of ruffles and dainty lace entre deux.
Continuing the gender-swapping theme, the guy was assigned a black ankle-grazing pleated skirt with a stiff-collared striped silk blouse, while the girl paired a pair of black sarouels with a masculine oversize shirt. Red and white stripes played also on a silk caftan with a drawstring high waist, a unisex rendition of the nightgown wore by Ottoman aristocrats.
Exquisitely finished, with delicate detailing and Italian fabrics of excellent quality, the collection had a feel of clear-cut ease; folk accents were reduced to modern and comfortable shapes, which contrasted with a series of more feminine Japanese doll–inspired concoctions. High-waisted and pouf-shaped, a triumph of organza, broderie anglaise, and various lace appliqués, they suggested the childish charm of paper dolls’ cutout dresses. But they looked anything but sweet: “It’s a naughty Japanese doll though,” said Ege. “I don’t do sweet.”
