Isabelle Wen the fabric speak

Though Isabelle Wen's (溫慶珠) latest spring/summer offering on the weekend was her favored combination of feminine frills and sequins, there was an edge that had observers saying it was one of her best collections yet.

The "Twirling Sofi" show at the designer's restaurant/lounge bar in Taipei may have been inspired by sufism and the dance of the whirling dervishes that is said to represent a spiritual journey to perfection, but it had the fashionable advantage of being sexy too.

Transparent tops, chiffon and lace set off by golden threads and colored sequins were combined for a look that was fresh and lively, with nods to the 60s and counter culture. A model twirling round in a gossamer light mini skirt was a magical and powerful image that summed up the show.

And since this year is the 20th anniversary of the founding of her design company, the collection was an achievement that deserved all the applause it got. The Taipei fashionista has hit a high point in her career and the only problem is keeping up the momentum.

Wen has recently added a boutique to the number of stores that sell her clothes and has also successfully diversified, publishing a bimonthly style magazine, as well as opening Fifi restaurant, W lounge bar and the Japanese restaurant Bamboo. Her reputation is secure here and China beckons.

But behind success there is sometimes sadness. A brush with a life-threatening illness and overcoming a creative hiatus six years ago has made Wen more appreciative of life's blessings and drove her to reach greater heights. Even so, she said her public image was "a shell."

"Though I may be sick and tired it is my job to make people happy. I don't want them to see just the horrible side of life, it is my job to reveal beauty," Wen said in an interview on Tuesday at her studio and workshop in Shihlin. "Some people think I'm Superwoman, but you know that is just face."

Wen said her current collection was, to an extent, the result of overcoming problems. In fashion as in art, there is no gain without pain.

"I was listening to a midnight radio station called Ai Yue Diantai (愛樂電台) at my house. There was this music and the announcer said it was from a whirling dervish dance. It spoke to me of religion, prayers, layers of white and spirituality. There seemed to be a rainbow in my mind. It made me forget the pain."

Like the dervish who attains a zen-like state, Wen said the music had helped her put "spiritual and material together" to come up with a concept for her show, "which is a way of letting fabric tell the story."

Wen's tale is an interesting one. Her father was a general in the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) and arrived with his wife on these shores in 1949. Wen was born in Taipei but spent time in Pingtung and Tainan, where her father later served as a police chief. It was her mother, however, who introduced the young Wen to the world of fashion.

"She was a real artist," Wen said. "She showed me around art galleries and introduced me to fashion. I remember going to the tailor with her around the age of five or six and I would tell them what I wanted."

"First I dressed myself and others for my parents' parties; then I did the same for my friends' parties. Now it's my party. I have always done this. I have always followed my heart."

It was clearly a reasonably privileged upbringing. Her older sister Lily Wen (溫慶玉) -- who is now vice president of the company -- was bright and responsible. An older brother went into electronics, but Isabelle was a wild child. She wore daring clothes, partied hard and fell in-and-out of love. Unlike the good daughter of Confucian tradition, Wen had a revolutionary outlook toward sexual politics and how women should act.