J.J. Martin is sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Broome Street Ganesha Temple, clad in a La DoubleJ patchwork ensemble that includes a pullover with sleeves that devolve into a welter of yellow feathers. Across from her sits her “sister,” a spiritual guide whose own La DoubleJ outfit—in bright orange—is only slightly quieter. “Calling our families of light,” Martin intones. “Opening up our channels, beyond the mind, the body, beyond this dimension, clearing our chakras.” I am crouched on a chair, my chakras no doubt hopelessly clogged, observing.
Martin is the American founder of La DoubleJ, the exuberant Milan-based line of clothing and home goods. From its inception, her designs have relied on big, bold prints in easy shapes—the silk “swing” dresses boast blown-out blossoms; her ponchos reference abstract tiles. The housewares are likewise not exactly shy: There are palm-printed linen tablecloths, Murano glass goblets, and porcelain plates that sport a plethora of pineapples. Unabashedly cheerful and vintage-inspired, her work is the stylish equivalent, in these fraught times, of laughter in the dark.
If she seems to be as interested in what she calls her spiritual practice as she is in running a fashion company, Martin refuses to acknowledge the contradiction. “The same woman who is attracted to these bright, colorful clothes is also someone who wants to learn about healing modalities, ways of expanding consciousness,” she says. “Color, print, and pattern all evoke an energy, a frequency, and when you’re wearing them, you can feel different. A lot of people are doing this subconsciously, putting on those pink pants! It’s one way to raise your vibration.”
Before she arrived at her own pink-pants moment, Martin traveled a wildly circuitous path. In 2001 she was working in New York City, at Calvin Klein. In an office that was a notorious black-and-white box, she dressed in the 1960s and ’70s printed ensembles she culled from flea markets. Then fate showed its hand: She met an Italian guy at a party and moved to Milan—a culture shock she chronicles in her recently published book, Mama Milano, a combination memoir, confessional, design journal, and spiritual compendium.
Martin married that man (he is now her ex-husband, though still involved in her business), worked as a fashion journalist for 15 years, and embarked on what she describes as a tortuous infertility journey. “One day in 2014, my body had hit a wall. That was the same day someone passed me the name of an energy healer who specialized in fertility.” As it turned out, “I never gave birth to a human baby, but I gave birth to a company.”
She currently resides in a neo-Gothic 1910 building in the heart of Milan that, no surprise, is a perfect example of her more-is-more aesthetic—the furniture sourced from the city’s best vintage dealers, the walls covered in a riot of La DoubleJ motifs, her jewelry collection serving as decoration in the guest bathroom.
Martin is a fourth-generation Californian who grew up in Pacific Palisades attending the same girls high school that her mother and grandmother did. “We were a very outdoorsy family, but I was always obsessed with color, and pattern, and embellishment.” She went on to Berkeley to study rhetoric, the ancient art of argument—which has helped her in business, she says, laughing.
One day in 2015, her then husband, clocking her overstuffed closet, suggested she start a website and part with some of her treasures. The site, conceived as a jaunty online magazine, was a surprise hit, but sourcing soon became a constant challenge. “I thought I was going to be the Net-a-Porter of vintage, and very quickly realized that was the dumbest thing ever,” she confesses, “so I decided to make a new dress using a vintage pattern.” She found a factory in Italy that could do bold, ’60s-ish prints on silk and soon offered a single style: “480 euros, direct-to-consumer, beautifully made—with pockets, of course.”
When Ruth Chapman, at the time the cofounder and co-CEO of MatchesFashion, saw this dress, she volunteered to help—starting by pointing out that you can’t succeed in business with a single item, and so Martin added a skirt, and then a top, and then introduced cotton along with the silk. “It came organically from Divine Mother energy,” she says. “You have to go with that flow and follow that heart space—and not use your head too much.”
Then again, sometimes your head does have to be consulted. “Negotiating wholesale terms? I had no clue. We made so many mistakes—it was a total circus. My husband said, ‘If you’re not profitable by year two, it’s not gonna happen.’ That year we made 300 euros.”
Nevertheless, by 2017 La DoubleJ had become a proper collection, complete with the now extremely popular homeware division. “It’s kind of remarkable to watch what happened,” Martin says. “Even during that first year of COVID, we grew 20 percent. Now we do swimwear, puffers, evening—and everything is made in Italy.” She describes the brand as “digital first,” but the line is also sold in a host of brick-and-mortar outlets, with a Manhattan shop on the horizon—and the Milan flagship is far from an ordinary venue. “I created a Divine Mother goddess cave downstairs—the walls are plastered with images of gods and goddesses,” Martin says. “It’s really funny—we are across the street from Bottega Veneta, and we have pictures of the goddess Kali all over the place.”
Though Martin loves her adopted home, her plans reach far beyond Italy—in fact, they encompass planet Earth itself. “My goal is to wrap the world in joy!” she declares, the yellow feathers on her sleeves fluttering in agreement. “That’s the mission of DoubleJ: Let’s have some fun!”
