Q: What do these stores have in common? A: “Vertically integrated manufacturing”

Imagine you’re in a boutique trying on some jeans that almost fit. What if they actually offered to make a pair tailored your measurements at their factory at India, in two weeks? That’s the case at JF & SON, which works with hand-weavers throughout India to develop custom fabrics–for clients and their own clothes–that are sent to the vertically integrated JF & SON studio in New Delhi. This system of production allows them to make constantly make unique products, in small quantities that are responsive to what their customers want.

Pushing this notion to its extreme is a new line of denim, Prison Blues, made by prisoners in Pendleton, Oregon out of a 47,000 square foot facility devoted to making jeans. Each pair features a tag resembling a license plate saying that each pair is “made on the Inside to be worn on the Outside.”

The idea that a company controls every step of its production process–vertical integration–has started to take on greater appeal as consumers demand ever greater quality control and customization options. It has long been front and center in all of American Apparel’s advertising and even on their storefronts, and allows them to showcase new products in development and respond to feedback regarding new colors, fit, and fabrics quickly. LVMH also claims to be vertically integrated in that they control every step of the supply chain–from sunglasses to clothing to watches–produced in their own specialized workshops.

Part of the appeal of vertical integration—across all levels of retail, from everyday basics, boutiques, to luxury stores—is that consumers are responding to brands that stand for a particular way of making and using, that produces a system of meaning or validation. There seems to be an affinity for brands to operate more as ateliers or workshops than as mass production companies where materials are outsourced, costs are mercilessly pared down, and production is standardized. By acknowledging, exposing and controlling their manufacturing process, these brands make consumers feel a deeper connection to them by creating a new mythology around how their products are made.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, as the years sandwiched between the dot-com boom and the late 00’s ushered in an unprecedented ballooning and democratization of luxury. The base price for  “It” handbags (and now shoes) rose to over a grand, fashion houses long past were resurrected with new talent (a low point being Lindsay Lohan’s short-lived appointment at Ungaro), and brands expanded into ever far-flung categories.

Meanwhile, a backlash to this state of affairs was emerging. “Slow fashion,” a cousin to its more well known kin slow food, embraced like-minded principles such as locally sourced materials and manufacturing, ethical production practices, and environmentally responsible choices. Think Anya Hindmarch’s iconic and endlessly knocked off “I’m not a plastic bag” dating from 2007, or Ali Hewson and Bono’s ’organically sourced clothing line Edun. Cue 2008 and the luxury market that had overperformed since the early 2000’s took a nosedive. The age of ubiquitous luxury and overvaluation had ended.

At Columbia’s GSB’s Retail and Luxury Goods Club’s conference a few months ago, it became clear that fashion houses and luxury conglomerates had begun to tout slow fashion principles to justify their relevance in the “new normal” and search for a more substantial notion of authenticity.

As Daniel Lalonde, CEO of Louis Vuitton NA put it, “The new luxury value equation has shifted, how do consumers construct the ‘value’ of a luxury item and rationalize its purchase? I’ve found that customers respond to creativity, craftsmanship, and value.” Some brands are starting to communicate this “value,” as tied to authenticity, by establishing provenance and, on the flip side, promoting transparency in manufacturing.

One of the cornerstones of this “luxury value equation” is the nature of heritage and craftsmanship. A marquee name is no longer enough, it has to be demonstrated by a tradition of craftsmanship, sourcing, and provenance. Nowadays, status items might be designed in the United States, sewn in China, and then finished in Italy, creating tension for brands in how they portray their production processes. As clothing production has shifted to computerized systems, artisanal and basic technical skills are being shifted to other countries, mainly China. These pressures have led brands such as Louis Vuitton and Gucci with a built-in heritage story to rediscover their legacy and make it the centerpiece of their 2010 campaigns.

It should be pointed out that the groundwork for luxury’s current fixation on provenance has been accelerated by social media, such as tastemaker fashion bloggers and their readership, resulting in increasingly savvy consumers. We’ve entered an era where bespoke details are becoming more mainstream, which was not the case even five years ago. By popularizing the notion that it’s cool to know how clothes are made and finished, social media has effectively shifted the needle towards slow fashion.

LVMH recently joined forces with Parsons to launch a new initiative, “The Art of Craftsmanship Revisited: New York” in which designers are paired with local master artisans to create original fashion ensembles and short documentary films. Their commitment to heritage spans not just years but generations into the future—a wise investment at a time, as NYT fashion critic Cathy Horyn put it, when “many aspects of contemporary life feel unreliable, [so] heritage brands offer a degree of security.”

To be continued next week…

The past few months have been a whirlwind of moving boxes and ethernet cords as we bid farewell to Chelsea and hello to our new home in the as yet unnamed nebulous area between Soho and Tribeca.

We now find ourselves wedged between the old and new- to the east, the glossy Trump Soho towers (at the least, a reliable cab stand), and to the west, the Ear Inn, built in 1817 and formerly frequented by sailors and longshoresmen.

And for anyone with a month’s rent to spare on deconstructed, hybrid slouchy/droopy pants, there’s always Atelier NY around the corner. Looking forward to kicking off the summer season with lunches at Hudson River Park!

Born out of a homesickness for the yogurt of his native Iceland, Siggi Hilmarsson started to make his own batches at home, founding Siggi’s in 2005. After many, many batches, he was able to create a nonfat skyr with three times the amount of protein compared to standard yogurts.

It has the cleanest taste (and thickest texture!) of any dairy product I’ve ever tasted, and quickly developed a cult following among foodies and healthy eaters. Now distributed nationally by Whole Foods, I sat down with Siggi to discuss his perspectives on American tastebuds and approach to eating.

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What was the inspiration for you behind founding your own yogurt company?
I missed skyr the yogurt of Iceland, which is much thicker than regular yogurt from being strained– you strain about 75% of the whey weight out so you have a much more concentrated mass of milk solids. Skyr is traditionally made from skim milk, because it’s a byproduct of butter. So back in Iceland in the old days, you would start by skimming off the cream to make butter, then take the skim and make the skyr, after straining the whey from the skyr you would use the whey to drink or pickle various sheep’s parts usually or other food items to store over the winter.

Although I missed skyr the reason why I founded Siggi’s as a particular brand of skyr in the US has more to do with food here than with yogurt per se—I’m pretty averse to eating a lot of sweet stuff and I wanted to make the product not very sweet. I wanted to make a yogurt that was not excessively sweet and didn’t have this explosive sweet flavor.

I don’t like eating a lot of sugar. And when I came to the States, I was shocked by not just candy, but whole wheat bread (with high fructose corn syrup) and everything in between has sugar.  In particular even natural yogurt had 25 to 30 grams of sugar a cup. And then you see some that use aspartame, or artificial sweeteners, which I absolutely abhor. I don’t think they are good for you, they taste terrible, and they are part of this engineered food that I’m not really into.

How did you educate yourself in the process of making skyr?
I started just reading about it. My mom went to a couple local libraries back home in Iceland and got me some really old articles. I read some books, I read online, learned about yogurt in general. And then I started experimenting. All in all, from the time I made my first batch to when I started selling it, it was probably a year and a half. I went through many batches that failed first.

As a company, what are your guiding principles?
We don’t want any of our foods to be overly or excessively sweet, so we use a low amount of any sort of sugar substance. And the sugar we do put in there, we decided to use agave, which is a low glycemic carbohydrate, it takes the body longer to break down so basically you don’t get as much of a rush as you would if you just pump yourself up with sugar.

The other principles are general subtlety—we don’t use flavorings or try to avoid them, we use real fruit, don’t use any colorings, no artificial ingredients, try to keep ingredient style clear and short.

Even things that are unnecessary we just don’t include—for example people will often add beet juice for color, which is still natural and it’s pretty tasteless in small amounts, but we’ve skipped that. We don’t try to exaggerate the colors of things. Also with our sourcing we try to be transparent and traceable. We have certain criteria for the farms that they give their cows access to pasture, grass feed them, don’t use any hormones, we are against tail docking which is a rather unpleasant practice in some industrial dairies. We endorse sustainability–for the lack of a better word -and humane animal treatment, no factory farming.                         

Healthy guts!

I recently discovered Eukanuba’s “prebiotic” dogfood, which contains FOS (fructooligosaccharides), a prebiotic that stimulates the growth of good bacteria to enhance your dog’s digestive system.

For pet-owners, this product may come as no great surprise. But for those who don’t browse the aisles of Petco: there’s been a revolution in the category. Gone are the days when dogfood was just “miscellaneous meat” (or horse meat, if you saw that episode of Mad Men). Over the past few years we have seen the sophistication of pet products, and an ever-increasing crossover from the human to the pet world — diet food, salons, chemotherapy, sunblock, massage.

Pets are as old as civilization itself. But dedicated pet-lovers seem to be accelerating their climb towards ever higher levels of emotional commitment, responsibility, involvement and anthropomorphizing with their furry friends. As we become more and more savvy about health and wellness, doesn’t it seem natural to want to apply our knowledge to the protection of loved pets? And at $49 billion in the US alone, the pet product industry is only too happy to oblige.

But as Pet Care and People Care continues to converge, some larger ramifications are beginning to emerge. Will our standard health insurance options soon include a standard “four-legged family member” option? Will Furry Pharma become an increasingly hot, profitable, focus of big Pharma, as they ramp up their spending on pet-related R&D?  Might we see scarce resources diverted from solving niche human health issues to mass pet ones? Is this, indeed the dawning of the age of Pet Rights, Pet politics, and Pet Healthcare reform?

And lest we forget the current (human) healthcare brouhaha — how long before the uninsured resort to Petco for some cheap, dog-approved prozac?

In 2005, Ian Kizu-Blair, Sam Lavigne, and Sean Mahan created SFZero: a “collaborative production game” or alternate reality game (ARG), that sets out to take game players from being passive consumers behind a screen to interacting with the real world and with each other. SFZero is currently played in at least 30 cities around the world, from Minneapolis to Baghdad.

They’ve collaborated with Jane McGonigal on Flashback!, an educational kids TV show for PBS, been written up in the San Francisco Chronicle, spoken and hosted events at Institute for the Future, and created Ghosts of a Chance, a game for the Smithsonian American Art Museum, where gameplay involves creating art objects and mailing them to the museum for an exhibition/event.                         

And here’s some evidence. Happy Friday!

CDC’s definition of Obesogenic: “Characterized by environments that promote increased food intake, nonhealthful foods, and physical inactivity.”

We are incredibly excited to announce that Johnny has begun to blog at ApartmentTherapy. He is the man behind a new column, Woodwise, on which he shares his lessons in carpentry and woodworking.

Congratulations, Johnny!