Eckhaus Lattalot of things you
read about luxury
fashion becoming
sustainable,” says Mike
Eckhaus of Eckhaus Latta,
the label he started with
Zoe Latta in 2011, “there’s a lot
of bullshit to that.”
If there is a sustainable
future for fashion at all, it will
never be as easy to implement
as the current trend toward
eco-fashion makes it seem.
The problems are too big,
too complex, and too deeply
ingrained. And sustainability
is too often reduced to a
marketing strategy, offering a
false air of virtue in place of
meaningful action. That’s what
makes Eckhaus and Latta wary.
“There are definitely
sustainable elements to our
practice,” says Eckhaus, “but
we never have been like, ‘We
are a sustainable brand,’ and
I think that’s important.”
Eckhaus and Latta met
at the Rhode Island School of
Design, where they studied
sculpture and textile design,
respectively, and bonded over
thrift shopping. Early Eckhaus
Latta collections were made
almost entirely from deadstock
fabrics, upcycled material, and
refuse—all stuff that was cheap
and easy to find in Providence.
The duo’s approach was born out
of art-school resourcefulness,
not environmental activism, but
their techniques have made
them pioneers of sustainable
design—even if they’ve never
quite embraced the role.
“We didn’t want to get
pigeonholed as an eco-brand,”
says Latta. “We didn’t want to
make clothes that would be
sold in Whole Foods. We
wanted the clothes to stand
for themselves.”
People love Eckhaus Latta
because of what the brand
A
makes, not how the designers
make it. The clothes have the
mix of sensible functionality
and freaky ingenuity that art
kids and other hyper-cool
downtowners find irresistible.
The label has been described
as post-gender, with runway
shows that feature men and
women wearing the brand’s
signature sheer knitwear and
fluid suiting. An exhibition
Eckhaus Latta staged at the
Whitney Museum in 2018
included garments crocheted
using plastic shopping bags and
a series of old-stock T-shirts
and sweatshirts that had been
dyed, deconstructed, and
reconfigured.
As Eckhaus and Latta get
to work on their 20th collection,
their eco-practices have
shifted. They continue to
incorporate deadstock and
waste materials into their
work, but only as part of small,
limited collections. Instead,
they’re focusing on retaining
their sustainable practices
as their manufacturing scales
up. “We still have a cottage-
knitting setup,” Latta says. “This
way we can hold on to how we
like to work and still comply with
wanting to grow the business.”
Expanding their production
abroad has led to some
interesting discoveries. “In
Peru we saw our tee factory
that uses Peruvian pima cotton,
and they have tons of leftovers,
warehouses full,” Latta says.
Other, less resourceful designers
may not have even noticed
an opportunity in the discarded
material. “Part of the problem
now is that we try to explain
to our factories, ‘No, we’re
interested in your leftovers,’ and
they’re like, ‘Why?’ ”
Thanks to this new generation
of designers, the answer is
finally becoming obvious.Zoe Latta and Mike
Eckhaus at the
Eckhaus Latta store
in New York City.