Changing Room

Bartlett was in his shop when the call from Tim Gunn came through last year. "Project Runway's" Gunn has been at Liz Claiborne since 2007, where he plays consigliere to the bean counters. In addition to traveling into the hinterland to remind audiences of women that capri pants almost invariably make legs look stumpy and a skirt hemmed to the knee is universally more flattering than one at mid-calf, Gunn has been helping the company in its stated goal to "build buzz" and "cultural relevance." He invited Bartlett to Liz Claiborne's Garment District headquarters.

McTague was in on that first meeting. "His DNA, his heritage lent itself quite nicely to where I wanted Claiborne to be taken," he says. "And coming from Cincinnati, with those roots, he keenly gets who the average guy is out there."

From the beginning, the company wanted Bartlett's name on the label. For the designer, it's an opportunity to extend his reputation beyond the confines of the fashion cognoscenti. For Claiborne, it was a clear announcement of change -- the first time the men's line has had a "name" designer. And in a moribund economy, having an American designer at the helm matters, McTague says.

"There's a natural sense of nationalism that overcomes this country," says McTague, 46, who in his trim pinstriped suit and with his perfectly slicked chestnut hair, pitches his vision of American fashion like a fellow who has stepped from the offices of "Mad Men."

"Historically, people pull together and people think about that," he says.

So American factories are churning out all that merchandise? "The line is sourced everywhere," McTague says.

Is any of it made in the U.S.A.? "Certainly we would like to make more clothes in the U.S. There's great pride in wanting to do that." That would be: no.

McTague came to Liz Claiborne in 2007 from Converse, but he has also worked on the business side at Nike and Tommy Hilfiger. He was born in New York and grew up in Virginia. He's a slight man of medium height who, even as he's sitting in the Liz Claiborne boardroom or a month earlier at a Moroccan-themed dinner party celebrating Bartlett's arrival at the company, has the percolating energy of a man ready to bolt from his chair. It's late on a hot summer afternoon and McTague is expanding on his vision for Claiborne. As he describes his imagined customer, he keeps using words such as "majority" and "middle" and "appropriate."

His customer, he says, is "building a life around balance; it's not just about 'How do I climb the ladder fastest?' "

The customer is not a master of the universe; he's one of countless orbiting moons. This guy wants intellect and whimsy, but not a uniform.

Claiborne, McTague says, has to be about -- and here it comes -- the L-word. Claiborne by John Bartlett will be a "lifestyle" brand. Since McTague isn't talking about house paint or vases, what exactly does he mean?

"It's not creating a product for a single use," McTague says. But then, other than a tuxedo or swim trunks, are there any garments that are so limited in function? Isn't every garment, whether it's jeans, sneakers or a blazer, essentially meant to be incorporated into a person's life rather than saved for a specific event? Isn't this just marketing smoke?

It's Bartlett -- the fantasist -- who stops the room from spinning. He gets back to the clothes. "It's always about a shirt and a pair of pants.

"I just want to get that guy out of those no-name, baggy Dockers," Bartlett says. "I want to speak to that guy. He could be 18 or 60. And he's shopping in department stores, not Madison Avenue."

Bartlett will inject his personality into the collection, perhaps even throw in a few old ideas from his signature line. He's okay with ordinary. He's respectful of it. He understands that Claiborne isn't looking to dress the minority of men who want to be ahead of the pack but rather all those who want to be comfortably in the thick of it . . . right alongside his brother-in-law and a lot of other guys from Cincinnati.