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Deja Vu

Fashion Designer Stephen Burrows
The once-famous designer is determined to stitch together a career comeback. (Helayne Seidman For The Washington Post)
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The occasion raised the reputation of American fashion from parochial sportswear to creative ready-to-wear. It marked a heyday for black models, who dominated the show with their carriage and unconventional movement. Burrows became the first black designer since Ann Lowe (who created Jacqueline Bouvier's wedding dress) to gain significant recognition. He cleared a path for Willi Smith and Patrick Kelly. Two decades later, designers such as Tracy Reese, Patrick Robinson and Lawrence Steele walk in his footprints.

There have been numerous opportunities that Burrows could have brokered into something significant and lasting. He never did -- or could. Ask fashion veterans what they remember most about the Versailles competition and they will say Halston's presentation, featuring Minnelli. "The reason we remember is because Halston talked about it," Koda says. "You'd inflate your own role in it; that's the typical strategy.

"Stephen would never presume to talk about it."

There is an element of charm to his current studio -- a single room with a long cutting table, a half-dozen sewing machines and a handful of staff. But with his experience and credentials, it seems particularly unfair that a spring 2006 runway show is a struggle. Instinctively, one counts his age as the major obstacle.

"It sounds good because we live in that kind of world, but it's just one spice in the sauce," Hardison says. "Everything in our world of fashion is about newness. Not how old you are, but how can you keep it fresh."

There is no better example of a comeback in one's later years than Diane von Furstenberg, 58, who revived her signature business, epitomized by the wrap dress, in the late 1990s with a mix of business savvy, social connections and serendipity.

Burrows has conflicting feelings about race and whether it has been a deterrent.

"I always felt the industry hasn't treated minorities well," says John Miller, Burrows's business partner, who is white. "I think when anybody black walks through the door, unless it's a very chic man or woman, it's 'Oh, here comes somebody urban .' "

Burrows, who considers himself an American classicist, calls it "fashion profiling." It is even more disheartening, he says, when a community of black designers -- forced or willing -- chooses not to be self-nurturing.

"I was fascinated that Sean 'Puffy' Combs was backing [designer] Zac Posen. What does he need? He's a white boy. That was mind-blowing. Why? He can get other investors," Burrows says. "It's puzzling to me."

He wonders why Combs, who has addressed his own race and lack of privilege in his personal success story, would not invest in another black designer -- not necessarily Burrows, but one with unrealized potential and limited options.

"I can totally understand him expressing surprise, especially me representing a young black man pushing to open doors and inspire my race," Combs says. "But walking through my offices, you can see all the African Americans in this industry that I employ. . . . My overall philosophy is to empower people of color."

Combs says his investment in Posen was based on a long relationship; he has never met Burrows, but says he is an admirer and would be interested in a business venture with him. "I assumed that with his name, he was a world-famous designer living somewhere doing all this great stuff," Combs says.

In the past, it was possible to spark a designer's business with $25,000. Now it takes $1 million. Department stores don't nurture; they want guaranteed sales. And Burrows now has to compete with celebrities-turned-designers -- Jennifer Lopez, Gwen Stefani, Combs.

"It's unfortunate," Hardison says, that "someone with such enormous talent has to suffer from the fact that it may not be his time."

Stephen Who?

Results of the phoenix offensive by Showroom Seven have been mixed. The collection has been picked up by Rei Kawakubo of Comme des Garcons for her Dover Street Market in London, which is an eccentric's retail laboratory. The sales will be negligible, but it is a prestigious location.

"Rei helps keep the line in people's minds. The people she partners with are perceived as very contemporary," says Burstell, who is now an executive with Bergdorf Goodman.

But for fall, only three independent retailers -- whose main purpose is to sell clothes rather than make a philosophical point -- have purchased the collection, one in Los Altos, Calif., another in Cranston, R.I., and the third in Moscow.

Burrows's designs were featured prominently in the May issue of Essence. But in Showroom Seven's big plan, Essence is not the kind of influential magazine that sets the fashion agenda.

i-D magazine, however, is. And in the June issue, Burrows's designs were pictured alongside labels such as Cloak and Luella, both of which have cachet as brands on the rise.

The only problem was that even as his clothes were cast in the shadowy light of chic and cool, Burrows's name was misspelled. "Stephen Burro" was getting all the credit. And Stephen Burrows got nothing at all.


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