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.
PHOTOS COURTESY OF ISABELLE WEN
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 (
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 (
"I didn't want to follow in anyone else's footsteps, I wanted to create my own life. ... As women we hide our true character until we die. If we do not then our men will not stay with us."
Though she attended Tanshui's Oxford College and did a course in tourism, her heart was in painting and she was the pupil of renowned painter O How-nien (
When her father died and her mother and older siblings emigrated to the US, "Fifi" as she was nicknamed, stayed in Taiwan and dressed the windows of a department store. She was then given some money in 1986 to start her own business in Dihua Street.
The fabric market in this area was the heart of Taiwan's rag trade at the time and Wen's progress mirrors that of Taiwan's fashion industry as a whole.
"When I started no-one bought local designs, everything was imported from Hong Kong, Europe and the United States. We knew nothing. This was the first stage. Now we have a lot of knowledge, but little understanding. This is the second stage."
The third step, according to Wen, is the relative maturity of Western fashion markets and successful branding.
"But I tell you, Beijing, Shanghai, these places will be as good as and better than New York and Milan. I guarantee you, in 10 years time, this is where the world will be looking."
Wen is also looking to China. But first, she says, "I want the world to know that Taiwan has great design."
Taiwan’s English education system is being pulled apart by three opposing forces. Bilingual Nation 2030 pulls students toward English and global communication. Artificial Intelligence (AI) readiness pulls them toward digital judgment, verification and AI-mediated work. But Taiwan’s old exam culture pulls them back toward memorization, grammar drills, timed reading and correct answers. If the education system keeps using old exams to define success, it risks producing graduates who are neither genuinely bilingual nor genuinely AI-ready, but trained for tasks machines can already perform. The first force is Bilingual Nation 2030. Launched in 2018, the policy aimed to “help Taiwan’s workforce connect
“Taiwan’s Opposition Leader Comes to US With a Message Straight Out of Beijing” read a May 31 headline in the Wall Street Journal. Top US administration officials and members of Congress almost certainly read the WSJ, and if there was a bullet point takeaway that people in Washington should absorb ahead of Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chair Cheng Li-wun’s (鄭麗文) arrival in DC on June 9, that headline is it. The last few columns have discussed this very topic, and the timing is not coincidental. While those top officials likely do not read the Taipei Times, judging by the number
With weighty, anxiety-inducing geopolitical topics dominating the headlines, checking in on the wild and weird state of local politics can take some of the edge off. This November’s elections will determine who will be in charge of fixing potholes in your neighborhood, not the potholes in Taiwan’s complicated geopolitical space. Recently, after an online interview with a Taipei-based journalist, I commented that Taipei journalists never go further than the MRT can take them. He laughed and agreed. Naturally, the Taipei mayoral race is eating up much of the press attention. TAIPEI CITY Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) candidate Puma Shen (沈伯洋) has
As someone who normally steers clear of books with “transcendence” or “metaphysics” in their subtitles, this reviewer — a casual observer of local belief systems since the 1990s — found Fabian Graham’s Money God Temples in Taiwan a challenging read. Those who’ve only dipped their toes into temple culture will likely need to parse several sections with special care if they’re to keep up with the author, a British ethnographic researcher whose previous books have investigated religious practices among ethnic Chinese in Southeast Asia. This scholarly volume examines a facet of Taiwan’s religious landscape that didn’t exist a century ago, and