Rin Choe on the artistry of pattern cutting and deconstructing Korean tradition

“Everyone around me knew what they wanted to do, or knew things about fashion from their home countries, or rather, had even studied it prior.”

So what triggered the decision? An early exposure into crafting under the tenure of a Korean arts academy. “My parents were always super busy when I was growing up, so they sent me to an arts academy and I started learning how to paint. I was the only three-year-old there,” she exclaims. The unorthodox childminding allowed Choe to garner an appetite for fine art from infancy, but it still left her feeling at odds when determining a pathway post high-school. Nurturing her nascent experiences in painting from childhood, Choe opted for a diagnostic foundation at Central Saint Martins, in the hope to taper her interests and detect her niche. “I struggled so much at the beginning,” she admits openly. “I found it so difficult because everyone around me knew what they wanted to do, or knew things about fashion from their home countries, or rather, had even studied it prior.” Without conceding to defeat, Choe discounted her reservations in studying an untouched discipline. “I realised that, ultimately, everyone was in the same boat and despite prior knowledge, this was a new experience for everyone.”

 “Coming from Korea, there were a lot of fabric shops everywhere, but each one sells the same product and it’s not very good quality. In London, it’s all so different.”

While studying Fashion Communication for foundation, which Choe admits was by accident, later applying for her BA in Womenswear under the persuasion of her tutor, Choe typifies a mistake gone right. Governed by curiosity, she made the move from her hometown in the Korean countryside, aged nineteen, without any prior knowledge or command of English to pursue womenswear. “It was kind of crazy. Whenever I went to school and wanted to talk about anything I was unable to speak.” But Choe never felt hindered by the barrier but rather the opposite, learning to communicate through London’s feted art scene, immersing herself into its milieu from museums to fabric shops. “Coming from Korea, there were a lot of fabric shops everywhere, but each one sells the same product and it’s not very good quality. In London, it’s all so different.”

Despite her affinity for the concrete metropolis, Choe found herself returning to the Korean countryside for the finale of her degree. Met with the initial concern shared amongst most graduating students of her cohort, Choe once more buried herself into her surroundings, pivoting a collection that situates itself as a personal tableau towards her father. “My final collection was inspired by my Dad because it reflected this culture in Korea amongst the older generation. They’re very conservative; they have their own rules, such as how to dress in every circumstance. But with my Dad, he was always different,” she proudly notes. “He doesn’t follow the rules, even as a businessman where he’s expected to be dressed very formally. He always wears what he wants to wear and what he feels comfortable in.”

Despite her affinity for the concrete metropolis, Choe found herself returning to the Korean countryside for the finale of her degree. Met with the initial concern shared amongst most graduating students of her cohort, Choe once more buried herself into her surroundings, pivoting a collection that situates itself as a personal tableau towards her father. “My final collection was inspired by my Dad because it reflected this culture in Korea amongst the older generation. They’re very conservative; they have their own rules, such as how to dress in every circumstance. But with my Dad, he was always different,” she proudly notes. “He doesn’t follow the rules, even as a businessman where he’s expected to be dressed very formally. He always wears what he wants to wear and what he feels comfortable in.”

The core of Rin Choe’s collection is an athletic one, citing the inveterate influence of golf in Korea through her final collection. “People talk business during golf,” she informs. “So I began to imagine how my Dad would dress playing it,” rousing draped suits in berry blue and lava grey with buttonless collared shirts that splay open delicately, with ties around the neck. While recognising the traditional aesthetes of golfing dress, Choe’s recreation also deviates from the custom by interrogating the effect of the sport on the body. “My Dad got injured by playing golf as the swing pose is harmful to the human body, specifically the backbone, even when you’re doing the right poses. It distorts the muscle and bones from excess movement which I wanted to capture through the movement of the fabrics and the pattern-cutting, twisting fabrics and adding excessive curves to sliced trousers in unpredictable places making erratic shapes. The process of designing mimicked the movement.”

“I feel like the industry is exhausted, and while ironically the past few months have granted time to think more.”

“Huge shapes? Volume? That’s not my collection,” voices Choe. The artistry is in the pattern cutting and the manipulation of the fabrics in play to manifest the epochal gesture of the golf swing. Choe’s oeuvre is refreshingly pragmatic, and the creative process often instigated the movement of fabrics in ordinary everyday life. “Movement is a passing moment, and when they’re not [preserved as] images, how can you keep the structure of a wavering shape within a garment? That’s what I seek to catch within my work: those moments.” But movement isn’t just subject to the body on Choe’s agenda; the movement of the industry is problematic too.

“I feel like the industry is exhausted, and while ironically the past few months have granted time to think more,” regarding brand identity and output, “they’re still expected to create something new. But trends keep changing and there’s never enough time to be an expert of one concept. To change that could make the days more unpredictable, which would be reflected in the garments.”

“I didn’t hang out with my friends in the first and second year enough because I overworked. You’re there to actually enjoy the experience.”

From her bedroom in Korea, Choe now finds herself navigating graduate life, assisting her friend’s company and preparing her VISA for her return. “If I could go back and do it all again, I’d hold onto my time more. The thing I’ve missed most throughout the past few months is the energy from my friends; that’s the thing that keeps me going, but I’d lost them all of a sudden.” She pauses to formulate her best future advice to new students. “I didn’t hang out with my friends in the first and second year enough because I overworked. You’re there to actually enjoy the experience.” Despite expressing herself now as the age-old adage entering the industry as a “small fish in a big pond,” Choe’s return to the capital solicits the next stage in both her collection and her character. “I finally started being able to colour my identity there. I was figuring out my potential in this environment, and while I cannot say that I understand or fully know what I want to do with my future, I at least know I want my future to be surrounded by the place in which I started to find myself,” embraced by the open arms of London town.