A Little More French

To hear the guys behind Kitsuné tell it, launching a full-scale, 360-degree international lifestyle conglomerate was something that just sort of happened. Gildas Loaëc and Masaya Kuroki, the brand's very French cofounders, approach music, fashion and a laundry list of cobranded collaborations with a curious blend of academic intensity, market-savvy acumen and a devil-may-care attitude. In doing so, they've inspired loyalty in fans of disparate stripes -- both those whose idea of a good time entails dancing themselves filthy at a desert rave, say, and those who'd rather relax on an immaculate yacht somewhere in the Mediterranean. And it's working. Loaëc and Kuroki are doing what they want. To them, that's the important thing.

The two main components of the 10-year-old brand's business are a record label and fashion line. Each has earned success in its own right. On the music side, Kitsuné distributed Hot Chip and Wolfmother's debuts in Europe, signed Two Door Cinema Club and Is Tropical and regularly releases compilation albums that feature some of the brightest lights in indie electro. On the apparel side, Loaëc and Kuroki have designed Maison Kitsuné collections since 2005, all with a casually upscale sensibility that recalls what might have happened if the Japanese obsessives behind style-bible Take Ivy had used their photographs of East Coast campuses to design collections for '60s Alain Delon. ("It's classic and bourgeois," says Loaëc, referring to Kitsuné's line. "It's what we like.") In 2008, they opened their first brick-and-mortar location in Paris -- within walking distance from the Louvre -- and earlier this year they expanded to New York City, launching an outlet in the NoMad Hotel.

"We never thought to open a store in New York," Loaëc says. "But the NoMad people got in touch with us. They said the hotel would have a French feeling, and they were looking for a French brand." He continues, "New York desires us."

Evoking the Haussmann style of Paris's 7th Arrondissement, the Kitsuné boutique at the NoMad was designed by Kuroki along with TBD Architecture & Design and Canadian designer Anna Vignale. It's an airy 1,000-square-feet of carefully arranged merchandise, each item framed by enough white space to imbue the browsing experience with a sense of artsy gravitas. Among the Gallic offerings are striped boat-neck tees ($250); a cocktail dress cut across the waist with a grosgrain sash ($500); and a white dinner jacket with blue piping ($950). "Kitsuné is a little like a 'cool A.P.C' -- younger, with good basics, nice details, great fabrics," says Colette creative director Sarah Lerfel, who's known Loaëc for 15 years and worked with Kitsuné on various projects. There are also polo shirts, each stitched with a red, white and blue fox logo over the breast. "Kitsune" is the Japanese word for fox; Japanese legend holds that the fox is a shape-shifter, which Loaëc says reflects the business's "different activities." (He also says they added the accent aigu to make the name "a little more French.")

In addition, the store carries a selection of items from brands Loaëc and Kuroki respect, including bags by Want Les Essentiels de la Vie, Alexander Olch neckties and a Kitsuné cardigan in collaboration with Monocle. (Previous collaborators include J.M. Weston, Pierre Hardy and Petit Bateau.) Then there's the vinyl -- Kitsuné-brand records for sale, including their most recent compilation, released to celebrate the opening of the store, Kitsuné America, featuring the likes of Detroit DJ White Shadow and a haunting pop number by the Lower East Side's Frances Rose. The link between fashion and music is nothing new, of course, but rarely has a brand invested so much in discovering future indie superstars while simultaneously creating such understated, sophisticated apparel. Kitsuné might be the first viable hybrid of the two. "It's a clever way of thinking," says French journalist Marc Beaugé, who writes for Les Inrockuptibles and Le Monde Magazine. "The beats are young, but the clothes could be worn by 50-, 60-year-old guys -- they can afford them." He continues, "The clothes bring the money, and the younger [generation] likes the music. It's a good package."



When it comes to their line, Loaëc says the reason Kitsuné is so high-end is partly environmental: The duo aims to craft, as he puts it, "credible clothes," and when you're a young upstart brand from Paris -- home base of venerable global giants like LVMH and Chanel -- the barrier to creating lasting designs is high. Loaëc admits that Kitsuné's price point is one of his challenges. The label can't order the same bulk from manufacturers as bigger houses, which drives up the costs. "We know we're too expensive by 20 percent," he says, "but it's hard when you care about quality."
 
Loaëc and Kuroki have spent their careers around stylish music, which also informs the brand's attitude. The two met in the early '90s at Loaëc's record store, Street Sounds, in Paris's 1st Arrondissement. The shop catered to local DJs and music fanatics, and -- truth in advertising -- had a floor made of asphalt. It was located near a skate shop, and there was plenty of cross-traffic between the two; Kuroki, Japanese by birth but raised in Paris, was one of the skaters who spent time at Loaëc's store. Other regulars included Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo and Thomas Bangalter, the duo who later went on to become the band Daft Punk. After the shop closed down, Loaëc became de Homem-Christo's roommate -- "I was squatting in his apartment, invited, of course" -- and became a member of the Daft Punk management team.

 Daft Punk toured Japan frequently, bringing Loaëc along, where he was exposed to lifestyle boutiques in Tokyo, concept stores that sold everything from coffee and clothes to furniture and art. He found the emporium idea intriguing. Meanwhile, dissatisfied with the translators supplied by Daft Punk's record label -- Loaëc says there were both language and cultural issues -- he invited Kuroki along to help. The two worked on the Daft Punk film Interstella 5555, and began drafting the Kitsuné business plan together. At the time, Kuroki, who had graduated with a degree in architecture, was working for Pritzker Prize-winner Jean Nouvel, but left the firm to design for Maison Kitsuné. (In general, Kuroki handles the clothes and Loaëc heads up the music, but each contributes to the other's vision.) Loaëc says that the Internet made it easier to start with the music side of the business, but that fashion had been part of their plans from the outset.

 Future projects include new boutiques in Tokyo's Aoyama district and another on Paris's Left Bank, but for now Loaëc aims to focus on Kitsuné's Club Nights, including several dates in the U.S. this fall. Note: You don't have to wear Kitsuné clothes to Kitsuné parties -- the brand's version of vertical integration is more interpretive than literal. (As Lerfel says, "The clothes and the music can exist separately, [but] they're even stronger when they're together in their shops. And when you see their bands in their videos wearing their clothes, it makes perfect sense!") Loaëc, who DJs two to three times a month, will steer the evenings himself. "I like to say I'm the best DJ in the world," he explains with self-deprecating humor. Still, coming from a guy who's this used to mixing things up, we almost believe him.