Edition: U.S. / Global

STYLE; Rhodes Scholars

By Román Alonso and Lisa Eisner
Published: June 23, 2002

Zandra Rhodes is an exotic -- a rare species. She looks like a cross between Glinda the Good Witch and something you would find in an Easter basket. She has bright pink hair, an insane amount of blue eye shadow, two different colors of lipstick -- one for the top and one for the bottom -- and she sleeps in her makeup because ''to put it on every day would simply take too much time.'' With her chipped nail polish and Cockney accent, she's a psychedelic Mary Poppins.

Zandra's designs reinterpret primitive cultures on printed chiffon -- Native American, Mayan, Chinese -- creating her own civilization of Amazon debutantes on their way to the ball. Her dresses are unmistakably Zandra -- hand-crafted, ethereal, raw-edged and impossible to copy. ''Zandra is one of the great textile designers,'' says Susannah Frankel, a fashion writer for the London-based Independent and a Zandra devotee. ''The clothes come from the textiles, which is a very unusual way of working, and makes for something that is very special and limited edition,'' she explains. ''She's grouped with Ossie Clark as purveyor of true hippie chic -- but couture, much more than ripped jeans.''

Zandra is a designer's designer who never veered off her path. ''She's one of those designers who encapsulated her moment, that English-70's, David Hamilton thing,'' says Hamish Bowles, fashion editor and curator. ''Her stuff is so relevant today -- her dynamite prints and color sense, her hand-finishing, her couture take on punk.'' Her influence is everywhere; on the runways at Dior, Fendi, Miu Miu and Louis Vuitton. Having designed since the 60's, she became a punk icon in the 70's, struggled through the 90's and is now inspiring a whole new batch of fashion addicts who pay up to $6,000 for one of what she calls her vintage ''butterflies.''

In this most recent chapter of Zandra's life, we find her spending half her time in London, putting the final touches on her Fashion and Textile Museum, and the other half in -- are you ready for this? -- ultraconservative Del Mar, Calif., a suburb of San Diego. So, what the heck is Zandra Rhodes doing there?

LISA EISNER: Is pink your favorite color? Or is it just the color you're stuck with?

ZANDRA RHODES: I think it's the color I'm stuck with. I mean, for 10 years I had my hair green. But anyone who's dyed their hair green knows that it might look fabulous for the first week, but after that it turns the color of old yellow straw. The pink takes nil upkeep.

L.E.: Of course, you know we love that you're living part time in San Diego, land of conservative Republicans.

Z.R.: Oh, but they have to have a few token designers don't they? I supply a certain exoticness and Englishness that they like. They've sort of taken interest -- particularly since I did the costumes for the San Diego Opera production of ''The Magic Flute.'' They all came to the heavy hitters' dinner opening night in pink wigs and pink feather boas. It was quite overwhelming.

román alonso: What was the scene like for you in London in the 60's?

Z.R.: Well, there was Ossie Clark and Celia [Birtwell] and David Hockney, and I guess they were considered ''the scene.'' I didn't know the club scene. I didn't go out in the evenings. Funny enough, although I'm always thought of as a very exotic person, I tend to end up working and just going late to something. But as fate would have it, people remember I was there even if I was only there for two minutes.

L.E.: Well, you are pretty memorable. When do you think you evolved into ''Zandra Rhodes''?

Z.R.: What I am today? Probably not till the mid-70's. You know, I'd left college, I was formulating, getting to know people. Different things happened, like the fact that Diana Vreeland really adored me and liked what I'd done, that spurred on my work. Because often you need a mentor.

R.A.: What about this Vanessa Redgrave thing I read, that she gave you money for your first store?

Z.R.: A friend of mine introduced me to Vanessa and got her to give us $2,000, enough for a down payment on a shop. Actually the handwriting on my first textile design for the shop said, ''We love you, Vanessa.''

R.A.: I read in an article in Circus magazine how much Freddie Mercury loved you, and you did all his costumes. How did that happen?

Z.R.: I got a phone call one evening that he'd like to come round for some clothes. I suppose he was really an original, cross-dressing quite early on. There is a lovely picture of him in one of my pleated things with a tiny bodice that was in a Queen calendar. I also dressed Marc Bolan, from T. Rex. He was probably the first to cross-dress, and then I'd say it went on to David Bowie. I made pleated jackets for Brian May, from Queen, and I was flying to Paris to fit Rod Stewart -- but I didn't know who they were, because I never listened to enough music. I always had to say, ''Excuse me, who are they?''

L.E.: You've always been your own best ad.

Z.R.: Well, I mean, the way I see it is if you don't wear your own clothes, who will? D'you know what I mean? You're designing because you believe in what you're putting out there. That's how I came to do the torn-jersey Conceptual Chic collection, because I suddenly didn't want to wear a print. Suddenly it didn't look right. It felt like you wanted something in stark black or white. I wanted to say, This tear is as dramatic as a piece of embroidery. I handed safety pins around the room to my girls and said: ''Turn them into jewelry. Do something with these safety pins.''

R.A.: You are talking about your Punk collection, right? The safety pins weren't out there already?

Z.R.: No, I started it.

R.A.: Wait, so when you started using safety pins in your clothes, punk kids weren't already walking around with them in their faces?