Dein Lee: An Exercise in Grief
Lee’s graduate collection explores the void of loss one push-up at a time
Written with Daisy Redfern“My final collection is about my grandmother. We were close to each other, I thought of her like she was my mum.” Whilst working on her final collection, Korean designer Dein Lee saw a perfect opportunity to combine the two great loves of her life: her grandmother and exercise. The loss of her family matriarch was devastating for Lee and prompted her submergence into in an intense routine of activity. “I changed my body shape, and mental,” she explains, “I’ve been doing workouts for like 4 years... 5 or 6 days a week– even in final year!”
Titled ‘Empty/Fill Up’, the garments are a meditation on the black hole of grief and Lee’s experience of her changing body in response to it. She emphasizes that this is not sportswear, though. Lee’s graduate collection displays a much more cerebral approach to movement as influence. Sleeveless tops, elasticated waistbands, and mobile silhouettes reference physical activity; “simple design, but then the textile will be really striking”, she reasons. A central facet of this way of working is the devoré fabric technique which involves applying chemicals to fabric and allowing it to burn through and leave varying levels of degradation. “Growth. Getting the muscles. I found a really interesting texture, like when people gain muscle and the skin is thin, they get stretch marks.” Lee elucidates. She also finds that devoré is particularly interesting for creating faux sweat patches on her garments. These fabrication techniques that seek to replicate natural functions speak to the work of her primary influence, CSM graduate and LVMH prize nominee, Jiyong Kim, who bleaches garments using only the sun. However, Lee’s devoré fabrics go further in their symbolism, extending as a representation of the feeling of losing someone so treasured. “When I lost my loved one, I felt like my heart is burning, I can’t explain my mind, so I just want to explain the pain through this.” Loss and gain.
Born and raised in Cheongju, South Korea, Lee had a turbulent upbringing. “When I was in middle school, my father’s company collapsed, and we lost everything. Our Grandma saved us by letting us stay at her house,” reminisces the designer. This marked the beginning of what would be a life-changing relationship for Lee. When the family were back on their feet and able to live in their own home again, she stayed with her grandmother. The relationship was a symbiotic one, and it was a commitment that would prosper till death do them part. “She [was] like my mum.”, a bold statement that only makes her admiration more emphatic. In fact, it was her grandma that encouraged her most to study at CSM. “When I wanted to move to the UK,” remembers Lee, “I asked my grandma if I would be okay, and she told me... ‘You can do anything’.” When she speaks about her grandmother, there is an evident struggle within Lee, as she reveals this is the first of her collections to come from a place of raw emotion. Her eyes glisten as she teeters on the verge of tears, and yet she speaks with such conviction and pride.
Growing up in Korea, Lee felt too much rigidity. It is CSM that freed her. “In Korea, every study you are taught you have to do it in a certain way,” she says, “CSM is totally different.” This is evident in how she approaches design. Lee pays no mind to traditional ways of constructing menswear, opting instead for a very organic process of directly cutting the fabric. "I can’t make the pattern first. When I make the textile first, the fabric changes a lot.” She explains, “I make a big piece of fabric and drape it, then if I find good design, I pin it and after that I just follow the shape.” Perhaps this is a more primitive approach, but it fits Lee’s drive. By negating the conventional pattern-centric approach, each garment can be worn in many different ways, with people of different body shapes able to choose the arm holes that suit their body. “The size doesn’t matter”, she confirms. Grief is inevitable and grips us all in our lives, and working out should be no less universal. Physical strength is but a by-product of the mental strength gained through exercise.
Self-taught in her craft, fashion is only natural to Lee. She says, “I think in life, the three important things are: eating, living, wearing... People need to wear clothes, right? Fashion is always there so I wanted to design.” This approach is a breath of fresh air in comparison to many of the BA graduate collections that tend to harness a more theatrical approach in pursuit of recognition or virality. To Lee, clothing is indispensable; just as we carefully select what to put in our body, we must carefully select what to put on it. Death reminds us that there is nothing unremarkable about living, nor eating, nor wearing. Lee’s postgraduate plans include a move back to Korea to continue work on her emerging gym wear brand On Your Own. The future can threaten uncertainty, but the haven of the gym and the spirit of her late grandmother are two consistencies that Dein Lee can rely upon.