Like the clothes that have made him a menswear favorite, Evan Kinori is a pragmatic, straightforward guy. The San Francisco-based designer has decamped to New York for 10 days to stage an exhibition, “apple, elm cotton,” launching a debut collection of furniture, which, also like his fashion, is sure to develop a fervent fan base. This is Kinori’s first time putting on a show in New York, and a rare opportunity for him to engage with his followers face-to-face beyond his store, which he opened in San Francisco’s Mission District in 2021.
Kinori, who grew up in Connecticut and studied patternmaking in San Francisco before starting his brand in 2015, has become known in a specific but loyal pocket of menswear-philes for his simple, yet considered silhouettes and deeply researched approach to manufacturing. (Will Welch, the GQ global editorial director, wore a bespoke sumi-ink velvet tux to the Met Gala earlier this month, standing out in a sea of trad tuxedos.) Most of Kinori’s fabrics, around 80% to 90%, as he explained at a walkthrough, come from small Japanese mills. He uses only natural fibers—wool, linen, hemp, and cotton—in natural colors. “The shapes are simple, so the material is important,” he said of his slouchy two-pleat trousers, casual overshirts, and softly tailored two or three button jackets, all of which evoke a sense of comfort.
Kinori’s new furniture—the “elm” in “apple, elm cotton”—is made from salvaged elm, redwood, and cypress, and includes a low platform bed frame, an elongated console, and couch. It’s handmade to measure by a friend of his just north of San Francisco. The “apple” is a cider he developed with fermenter Ryan James Burk of Occam Cider, a distillery, another friend and customer. The star of the show is the “cotton,” which is featured in a capsule collection available for sale in the space alongside Kinori’s spring 2024 lineup. Kinori’s cotton is developed by breeder Sally Fox in the U.S. and woven in Japan, with the exception of a few yards that were being handwoven by Marina Contro, who shares the designer’s studio in San Francisco. She was onsite when I visited, and was working on four yards for a shirt, one of which had already been sold for $1,900, as reported by GQ’s Sam Hine. This communal circularity is what makes Kinori unique—his selling point is his nicheness.
Kinori, who studied patternmaking at the Fashion Institute of Design Merchandising, describes his industry upbringing as more of a trade program than anything related to conceptual collection development .There’s an unfussiness to his work; it’s not the kind of thing we’re seeing on the runway, but that doesn’t mean it’s unsophisticated; quite the opposite. With his small batches and deep-cut fabrics creating exclusivity by default, he appeals to menswear purists who want you to know how special his clothes are. There’s no “gatekeeping” here—this is the kind of fashion guys want to wax poetic about. Still, it was a slow burn at first. “I remember that when I started I could not get men to try new pants,” Kinori remembers with a laugh. The menswear customer is a creature of habit—if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it—yet the past few years have allowed brands like this one to rise as new cult favorites. Pants are now one of Kinori’s top selling categories.
As unique as Kinori’s consciously made, not overexposed fashion is, he’s not interested in swimming against the current otherwise. Back to the pragmatism: He makes two collections a year, which he presents to wholesalers in Paris during the menswear markets in January and June. “It’s not worth fighting against,” said Kinori, “you need the rhythm because production is very hard; most of the job is producing, not the idea. The logic is simple to me and it works: I have an idea, I present the ideas, stores place an order, we make decisions on how much we stock, and then do the production.” Kinori’s clothes can be found at stockists across the United States, Europe, Japan, Australia including Dover Street Market, C’H’C’M’, and Neighbour.
“I feel like my job, my number one goal, is that somebody doesn’t sell it on Grailed,” says Kinori. In short, what he wants to make is clothes so treasured his customers would never dream of getting rid of them. Does he look himself up on resale sites to check? “I used to, but not anymore. You can’t pay attention to other people when you need to get your work done.”
Evan Kinori’s “exhibition one: apple, elm, cotton” will be on view through May 26 from 11AM to 7PM at JDJ Gallery at 370 Broadway in SoHo.
