Evan Kinori Carves a Quiet Style in a Noisy City
Credit : Evan Kinori Official
San Francisco. The name conjures images of fog-drenched hills, the clang of cable cars, and, for many style observers, a sartorial landscape as muted as its often-grey skies. The city has long endured the playful jabs and outright critiques of the fashion world, its populace often stereotyped by the ubiquitous tech uniform: practical, comfortable, and resolutely unflashy. Fleece vests, sensible sneakers, and wireless earbuds have become the unofficial civic dress code, a testament to a culture perhaps more preoccupied with innovation and disruption in the digital realm than in personal presentation.
Yet, within this seemingly style-agnostic environment, a distinct and compelling voice in menswear has quietly flourished. Evan Kinori, operating from his unassuming Valencia Street studio, has cultivated a devoted following that stretches far beyond the Bay Area. To his admirers, Kinori isn't just a clothing designer; he's a purveyor of a philosophy, a craftsman whose dedication to material and process echoes the reverence for ingredients found in the region's celebrated slow-food movement, often traced back to Alice Waters' pioneering work at Chez Panisse in nearby Berkeley. Just as Waters championed local, seasonal produce, Kinori meticulously sources exceptional textiles, primarily from family-owned mills in Japan, demonstrating a similar commitment to provenance and quality.
Inside his studio, the atmosphere is one of quiet focus. While a team of young individuals, themselves embodying the relaxed elegance of Kinori's designs in wide-legged trousers and substantial footwear, attend to the day's tasks, Kinori himself remains absorbed in the tactile world of fabric. He handles swatches of seemingly understated, earth-toned linens, each piece holding a universe of information discernible to his trained eye. The nuances of fiber, weave, dye, and weight are not abstract concepts but crucial elements in the envisioned garment. As Kinori has stated, the selection process is rigorous, ensuring that only materials of the highest integrity even reach the consideration stage, a stark contrast to the often-expedient choices that underpin mass-market fashion. His frequent trips to Japan underscore this dedication, fostering direct relationships with the artisans who create the very foundation of his work. He emphasizes the crucial ability to envision the final form, the drape and feel of a finished piece, from a mere three-inch square of cloth – a skill largely absent in a culture often detached from the tangible origins of its attire.
The irony of Kinori's success in a city often deemed sartorially challenged is not lost on observers. Jonah Weiner, co-writer of the influential style newsletter Blackbird Spyplane, draws a compelling parallel between Kinori's design language and the architecture of Sea Ranch, the iconic Sonoma County coastal community. He notes the "intentionally restricted design language" of the wood-shingled structures, built to harmonize with the natural landscape. This same principle of understated elegance and respect for materials resonates deeply within Kinori's creations, suggesting a shared Bay Area sensibility that values quietude and integration with the environment over ostentation.
Andres Giraldo Florez, a chef and long-time admirer of Kinori's work, further solidifies this connection to the region's ethos, likening the designer to Alice Waters. He highlights their shared consciousness regarding sourcing, emphasizing seasonality in food and the equivalent focus on the origins of Kinori's textiles. For Florez, dressing in Kinori's clothes is a distinct experience, a tangible difference in quality and feel that transcends mere aesthetics. He recounts his initial skepticism, quickly dispelled upon encountering the substantial weight and unique texture of a Kinori hoodie – an experience that underscored the chasm between mass-produced garments and thoughtfully crafted pieces.
Kinori himself eschews the term "sustainable," perhaps wary of its commodification. Instead, the notion of "slow clothes," a term championed by Blackbird Spyplane, feels more apt. This philosophy prioritizes intentional design, limited production, and enduring quality, standing in direct opposition to the relentless cycles of fast fashion driven by fleeting trends. This approach, however, inevitably comes with a higher price tag, a reality Kinori readily acknowledges. He points to the stark contrast between his own production costs and the retail prices of fast-fashion imitations, asserting that the latter’s affordability often masks a hidden "carnage" – the exploitation of labor, environmental pollution, and the sheer volume of disposable clothing destined for landfills. This "carnage" extends to the quality of the garments themselves, a compromise that has, unfortunately, become normalized in the broader consumer landscape.
For Kinori, the higher cost reflects the true value of ethical production and exceptional materials. He aims to create garments with "good provenance, a good story," pieces that their owners can be proud to discuss in terms of their creation and longevity. This ethos aligns him more closely with movements that value mindful consumption and enduring quality rather than the ephemeral world of high fashion driven by constant novelty.
Credit : Evan Kinori Official
Kinori's journey to becoming a celebrated menswear designer in San Francisco was not a direct path paved with fashion aspirations. Originally drawn to the city by his passion for skateboarding, the Connecticut native found himself immersed in a vibrant art-school-like community of artists, musicians, and skaters. While not necessarily clad in expensive designer wear, this scene possessed its own distinct and authentic style. Kinori cites the "crunchy steez" of skaters like Kenny Reed, Nate Jones, and Matt Field – with their layered earth tones, corduroy, and Rastafarian influences – as a significant early inspiration, a "secret third option" that defied the prevailing punk and gangster aesthetics of the time.
The San Francisco that Kinori encountered then has undeniably shifted. The influx of the tech industry has led to significant demographic and economic changes, pricing out many artists and altering the city's cultural landscape. Yet, Kinori remains unfazed by the perceived sartorial shortcomings of the downtown tech corridor. In fact, Weiner suggests that this very lack of a dominant fashion scene might be advantageous, allowing Kinori to cultivate his vision with greater clarity, unburdened by the pressures and noise of traditional fashion capitals. He likens the experience of appreciating Kinori's clothes to discovering the subtle beauty of a quiet song on the radio, requiring a closer listen to fully appreciate the nuances of its construction and intent – a stark contrast to the loud, trend-driven pronouncements of mainstream fashion.
For a certain segment of menswear enthusiasts, the arrival of a new Evan Kinori collection is a highly anticipated event, operating outside the industry's conventional, and often illogical, seasonal calendar. While spring collections typically flood stores shortly after the new year, Kinori adheres to a more natural rhythm, launching his spring offerings closer to the vernal equinox. This deliberate pacing imbues his releases with a sense of anticipation, aligning with the desire for lighter fabrics and relaxed silhouettes as the weather begins to turn.
Reflecting on a decade in the industry, Kinori still finds excitement in the challenging process of bringing a garment from an initial idea to a tangible reality. He views each collection as an evolution, driven by a constant pursuit of deeper textile development, with the ultimate goal of creating entirely original and custom-designed fabrics. This ambition, he suggests, feels like just the beginning. His design process remains deeply personal, rooted in his own evolving style and the desire to create pieces that he himself would want to wear. Remarkably, he continues to produce silhouettes from his early collections, a testament to his belief in enduring design and a quiet rebellion against the industry's relentless pursuit of the new. He also acknowledges the influence of his in-house patternmaking expertise, which contributes to the unique DNA of his garments, each piece meticulously developed from concept to sample within his studio. The evolution of his textile sourcing, from utilizing readily available deadstock to collaborating with increasingly specialized and small-scale producers of rare natural fibers, underscores his unwavering commitment to quality and unique materials.
When asked about designing with his dedicated following in mind, Kinori's response is surprisingly direct: not at all. While he acknowledges intuitive considerations of wearability and function, his primary focus remains on his own creative vision and the intrinsic excitement of the design process. For Kinori, he is the ultimate customer; the garment must resonate with him first and foremost. This personal connection fuels a rigorous internal dialogue about the purpose, longevity, and inherent value of each piece.
From his current vantage point at the Headlands Center for the Arts, a former military complex nestled amidst the dramatic natural beauty just north of San Francisco, Kinori's perspective seems even more grounded. His recent exhibition, "headlands," further blurs the lines between fashion, furniture, and art, showcasing his latest furniture designs in salvaged redwood alongside his clothing and a curated selection of works by other artists and craftspeople. This temporary space, co-curated with Rosa Park of Francis Gallery, is conceived as more than just a retail environment. It's a space for contemplation, where visitors are invited to engage with the objects, read a book, or simply take in the view. Commerce is possible, but it is not the defining purpose.
This holistic approach, this deep connection to material, process, and the surrounding landscape, positions Evan Kinori as a singular force in contemporary menswear. In a city often characterized by its functional pragmatism, he offers a counter-narrative – a quiet yet powerful vision of enduring style rooted in intention, integrity, and a profound appreciation for the tangible world. He proves that true style doesn't need the clamor of a fashion capital to thrive; sometimes, it finds its most authentic expression in the quiet corners, nurtured by a steadfast commitment to craft and a discerning eye for the enduring beauty of simplicity.
Credit : Evan Kinori Official
