In the stretch between Berlin and Copenhagen, you’ll find Kimæra, an up-and-coming clothing brand that draws its name and inspiration from the ancient Greek chimera. Just like the mythical creature that blends different animal parts, Kimæra represents the fusion of various worlds and the adaptability found in each garment. Named after a symbol of unity within diversity, the brand is the brainchild of designer Paul Pampiri and artistic director Itohan Emonvomwan. Their story is interwoven with the threads of kinship, collaborative ingenuity, and the metamorphic power of fashion.
Kimæra’s essence resonates with the personal journeys of its founders. Itohan’s insightful outlook, shaped by her self-taught videography and studies in language and political science, infuses the brand with a vision that celebrates the offbeat and the bold. Her Berlin upbringing fosters a creative tenacity and a knack for finding splendor in the eclectic — qualities that are encapsulated in Kimæra’s design ethos.
Paul’s design sensibility, honed through his tenure at esteemed fashion institutions like Givenchy and Mfpen, has been crucial in outlining what Kimæra stands against — the restrictive stereotypes of the fashion industry. His aspiration for the brand is to mirror the chimerical spirit, reflecting a blend of multifaceted identities in its patrons.
Positioned between Berlin’s rich creative soil and Copenhagen’s innovative design culture, Kimæra thrives on the distinct energies of both cities. This geographical duality mirrors the synergistic partnership of its founders, giving life to a fashion narrative that is as dynamic as the cities they inhabit.
What specific experiences in Berlin shaped Itohan’s artistic direction, and how does it reflect in Kimæra’s aesthetics?
Ito: I grew up in east Berlin, in Friedrichshain. It oozes of subculture and makeshift art exhibits, squatted houses, political radicalism – at least it still kind of did while I grew up. Clothing meant belonging. I started to develop an interest in finding my style when I was 11 years old and stopped wearing the clothes my mom bought us. I went to the 4-story second hand warehouse down the road, back when it was embarrassing to shop second hand clothes, but while I grew up with everything I needed, there wasn’t much money for the clothes I liked, so I felt the need to find them there. I was interested in everything that was pretty and then a little bit ugly, so I dressed quite funnily. I wanted to look like everything I wore was a choice, not a product of little means. Berlin is/was a place where you could kind of explore that.
Making visuals comes from a similar space for me. I started with a shaky, dreamy, diy aesthetic not because I wanted to, but because I could never have saved enough money for a DSLR and a good editing program. I felt I had to make little means my means. You could say that it’s some sort of creative pride. Berlin is definitely a place where this kind of aesthetic, something that is maybe a bit ugly, a bit blurry and with edges and imperfections, can find room and observers and feedback. It took me 10 years to actually be able to afford the computer and the editing programs and a collection of cameras, so my aesthetic draws itself through a long period of growth. I often talk to friends about how they see Berlin as one of the few places, where you have time to grow, where it does not matter if you take time off of your studies for a couple years, where you can explore maybe a bit deeper than in other European cities, what it means to do creative work. It’s a heavily romanticized view that I partly disagree with, but that I also know, holds some truth.
This is where we can find a connection to Kimaera which is dedicated to growth and change.
How have Paul’s experiences at fashion houses like Givenchy and Mfpen influenced his design philosophy at Kimæra?
Paul: During my time at Givenchy, I had the privilege of refining and enhancing my pre-existing visual language thanks to the guidance and mentorship of a senior designer, helping me elevate the overall aesthetic of my work. My stint at Mfpen provided me with insights into the commercial aspects of the fashion industry, as well as an understanding of the production process.
These experiences not only refined my design skills but also offered clarity on what I did not want Kimæra to become. I found myself disenchanted with the luxury world surrounding the Champs-Élysées in Paris, and I realized that I did not envision Kimæra as either a streetwear or a traditional fashion luxury brand. My passion lies in exploring the boundaries of clothing while ensuring it remains desirable. I observed that many fashion brands tend to pigeonhole themselves with very specific aesthetic labels, such as “techno futuristic” or “Scandi minimalism”, “gorpcore” or whatever label which, while effective in establishing brand recognition, seemed limiting in representing the multifaceted, collage-like identities of the modern individual. These stereotyped boxes feel restricting as all boxes are. This realization fueled my desire to create Kimæra, a brand that, like the mythical chimera, embraces the fusion of different worlds and the versatility inherent in a single garment.
Can you recount the pivotal moment when your friendship with Itohan evolved into a professional collaboration?
Paul: After my experience at Givenchy, I faced a decision. I had to choose between staying in Paris, pursuing internships until I could secure a job, or returning to Denmark to start my own venture. Internships in Paris typically offered payments ranging from 400 to 1000 euros, making it financially challenging in a city with a high cost of living. I had no intention of romanticizing the struggle of being a fashion intern in Paris. On the other hand, going back to Denmark would grant me unemployment benefits, amounting to approximately 1700 euros each month. This provided sufficient financial support while I embarked on the journey of creating something of my own. I recognized the privileges offered by the Danish system, and starting my own brand had been a long-held dream, so I decided to take the leap.
While I knew that I had the skills for clothing design, I also acknowledged my limitations in terms of the broader creative and content creation aspects necessary for a successful brand in the age of social media. This is where the need for an artistic director like Itohan became evident. She had previously inspired me to explore womenswear and had served as a muse for my work. Her artistic process, characterized by a dynamic and collaged approach, resonated with my own way of working with clothing, indicating that we shared a common creative language. I believed that our collaboration would be a harmonious fit. Furthermore, I recognized that to create a brand that truly stood apart, collaborating with someone from outside the fashion industry was essential, and the idea of keeping business within the family felt fitting.
How does the dynamic collaboration between Itohan and Paul work, from conceptualization to final product?
Paul: I typically start with a trial and error process, experimenting with designs and draping fabric on a mannequin until I develop something that I like. Once I’ve developed a few promising ideas, I involve Itohan in the creative process. She plays a crucial role in providing feedback, offering a critical perspective, and enhancing the designs.
For example, in the creation of our adaptive silk mousseline dress, Itohan suggested that slip dresses should feature adjustable slits to give wearers the freedom to choose how high or low they want the slit to be. This user-centric approach in fancy terms, combining functionality and style, is a hallmark of our collaborative process.
It’s a process of continuous improvement, and once the clothing takes shape, Itohan creates her own videos and builds a complementary artistic universe around the garments.
Ito: I work very well backwards. Reflexions used to be my favorite texts to write in high school! I love seeing a prototype, having it my hand, trying it on, seeing it on friends, before coming up with a full storyline. Of course, I like to give my 2,3 cents and as I love clothing, I also love the part of coming up with possible designs, but I’m always aware that I actually don’t know how to sew and design – I think this is actually a positive thing, because it allows a less restricted perspective.
Can you share more about the process of infusing emotional narratives into the clothing pieces?
Paul: Clothing itself may not inherently hold emotional narratives, but at Kimæra, we aim to create emotional storylines around our garments. Itohan plays a key role in this process. After I’ve designed clothing with a narrative of change in mind, Itohan contextualizes the clothing and the brand within a broader narrative of shifting identities and emotional transformations. It’s the contextualization and the narratives that we build around the clothing that give them depth and emotional resonance.
How does Itohan’s background in language and political science contribute to the storytelling aspect of Kimæra?
Ito: It allows a critical lens on what is showcased. Sometimes I write scripts like I write papers; They are argumentative and need reliable sources. You can’t necessarily tell as an observer, but it’s there in the process. Being able to hold a camera onto something means you are able to share your perspective, in this case, a young female perspective – of color. Identity politics is actually nothing I’m actively interested in within my studies, but it offers a short explanation, a tool. My political and sociological interests, my class background, my gender and race do affect the subjects of my visuals. You can tell I love filming women who look like me – these women are my friends. I love my surroundings and documenting them.
If my studies add anything, it’s a dryness and cynicism attached to the topic of making clothes in this day and age. It’s unnecessary and unsustainable and being realistic and non-romantic about this, allows me to see the purely almost dreamy artistic aspect of this and a space for me to tell stories I want to tell.
How do you envision Kimæra’s role in the evolving landscape of fashion in the next five years?
Paul: Right now, I’m pulling double duty as a social care worker and a waiter to keep Kimæra afloat and cover the bills. If kimæra becomes my full time gig I would be very happy.
On another note, I am curious if the strategy we have chosen for now will still be a thing in 5 years or if we will have to evolve to something else. Our approach to sales and production will be direct-to-consumer through pre-ordering. The pre-ordering approach not only allows for no over-production but also means that we can cut the middle man off, i.e., retailers, thereby cutting the mark-up in half. This results in more money for production, better quality, and affordable pricing compared to quality. I think this model is promising in the digital age as physical retail shops don’t have the monopoly over sales anymore which makes creating a brand more accessible.
How do you want wearers of Kimæra clothing to feel, and what experiences do you aim to create for them?
Paul: We want wearers of Kimæra clothing to experience a sense of embracing their inner chimera, celebrating the fusion of disparate elements, and enjoying the ever-evolving tapestry of human narratives.
Ito: Physically, the clothing evokes excitement in transformation, as well as beautiful practicality: silk and zippers, rib and hoods, strings and muted, natural colors.
The clothing is supposed to emphasize the wearer and her needs, not overshadow them, that’s why we like see-through layers and fitted cuts.
To see more of Kimæra visit the link here.
