CHET LO’s BDSM Sweaters

Designer CHET LO is emblematic of the nu-wave of designers, using knitwear to conjure seductive bodily illusions. It was not until the late 1920s that knitted garments became popularized through the designs of Coco Chanel and Jeanne Lanvin. Later that decade, Elsa Schiaparelli begun creating statement knits, inspired by the techniques of Armenians in Paris. These pieces gave the illusion of wearing a tie or handkerchief or that one was adorned with tattoos or a skeletal frame. With roots in this expressive tradition, modern knitwear designers experiment with cuts and transparency.

Lo’s designs are a transfusion of east and west styles, inspired by his heritage as a second-generation Chinese immigrant growing up in New York. Early Chet Lo pieces were almost neon. Body-hugging and spiked. Made for Friday nights, they encapsulated the hedonistic, post-pandemic mood. Recent collections have subverted what the brand is known for, the eponymous spiked has been muted, the color palette, more subtle. Themes shifted from being joyous garmented manifestations of spring and summer to reflect personal experiences, expressions of his Buddhist upbringing, and experience with depression. AW-24 is titled in Cantonese “鹹濕” or “haam saap”—which translates as perverted (haam sap), from dirty (haam) and salty (saap)—and it features the Japanese rope tying techniques of shunga and shibari that have also found a home in modern BDSM practices. Lo uses these, along with explicit graphics, to grapple and liberate his residing feelings of unacceptance regarding his homosexuality.

BETHANY WRIGHT: How was your show?

CHET LO: Crazy. It still feels like it was yesterday. It is hard to decompress. But I love the pieces. I can’t wait to wear them myself. All in all, it said everything I wanted to say. And it worked. No one fell. None of the clothes fell off.

BW: This decade, there has been a shift in knitwear garments, where it has been shedding its cozy, practical skin through young designers’ experimentation. Your pieces do this as well. What are the overarching ideas informing your design?

CL: I got into knitwear during my foundation year at CSM, because I loved the idea of textiles, not so much actual knit. I loved weaving VCR tapes together—I made latex with different foods, like anchovies, stuck into them. It was the experimentation of textile on the body that I enjoyed, not knit itself.

I didn’t like the idea of a classic knitted jumper—I honestly never wear them. However, the technicality behind it is something I love. The mathematics. The problem solving.

In my first looks, I used fishing wire. But it did not feel nice on the skin. I digressed into using nylon yarns that were wire-like and hair thin. These have a lot of structure which makes them horrible to work with. Knitting it, caring for it, the whole process was agony, but the results were these beautiful, transparent, clinging pieces.

It was a learning process in terms of approaching the practicability of design. Now we use more traditional yarns, but we have managed to create knit that looks like anything but knit. We have created knit that looks like lace, half tone, almost holographic. The experimentation with the textile is integral to the brand’s identity. I love the juxtaposition, the fact that people have to confront the design and be like, “what the fuck is this made out of!”

BW: You like to confuse people?

CL: Yes, it is so fun for the consumer. The experience of getting something shipped to your door, opening it, and being shocked by the texture. How soft it is. The textile changes its use, people think, “Wow, I can wear this every day, it is so different from what I expected.” That is a beautiful thing. That is my design purpose.

BW: The nature of consumerism is so fast-paced these days. Do you adhere to trends in your collections?

CL: I don’t reference current designers, but I do reference classic pieces. I’m on Pinterest—honestly every designer is. You end up seeing the same references in different collections. This season we created a couple of pieces out of chiffon, a double layered, woven material, into some trousers alongside a couple of other pieces. Proenza Schouler had the same thing, as did Prada. It is never intentional, but it shows a solidarity in the way designers are thinking. We try to not follow any trends because if you can get it at Prada, why would you come to Chet Lo?

I try to elevate a mood, rather than direct garment references. This season was super sexual, verging on graphic. We had porn prints on the dresses, but they’re beautifully cut pieces, flowy and refined. You can’t really see it at first but when you look at it from far away, it’s like, “Oh, that’s two guys giving a blowjob.” The mood, in contrast, was elegant, luxurious. It is a balance.

BW: You use two erotic Japanese traditions in the collection. The rope tying technique shibari has developed a sensual context after its historic use as a form of torture and shunga is a traditionally erotic art form.

CL: Growing up, my sexuality was a big topic with my family. My parents are supportive now but when they first found out I was gay, they were like, “Why? Why are you like this?” To this day, my mom says I am going to get AIDS. I tell her that being gay isn’t founded on sex. It is a large part of it, sure, but there is this ridiculous hysteria around male pornification. When I was growing up, I kept hearing the same word in Cantonese, haam sap, which literally translates to perverted. Being surrounded by that energy made me feel so ashamed of myself. It deteriorated my sense of self-worth. In this collection—and in therapy—I’ve been trying to reclaim that sexuality as well as my body and identity. In this white-centric beauty world, I’m trying to feel safe again.

I referenced shibari and shunga as they are two beautiful art forms that have been deemed taboo due to their sexual nature. If you look at the actual pieces and techniques, the actual form of the rope tie, it’s beautiful, they're gorgeous pieces of art. Especially with shibari, the way they manipulate the forms of the body is fantastic. I would happily wear that on the street. It shouldn’t automatically be associated with a dirty sex position. I wanted to bring that into the collection in a subtle, beautiful way, referencing my own heritage with Chinese knots made from Chinese silk cord instead of using traditional rope.

BW: How did you learn these techniques?

CL: A deep Google dive.

BW: As you talk about this collection and the related experiences, it feels almost like a pursuit to find healing.

CL: These days, I view collections as a way for me to talk about what I’m going through. There are a lot of facades in fashion. People project this narrative of a perfect life, and realistically, I am not doing well. The last collection was about my depression, the season before, about my Buddhist upbringing. With every season, I try to explain a little more of myself. It not only makes me more relatable, but it also helps me get things off my chest. I feel happier after.

BW: Earlier collections, SS-22, “Splash,” and AW-22, “The Tundra,” for example, were far more outward looking. They took inspiration from nature—the weather, water, furs, and scales. What prompted this thematic shift?

CL: When I first started, I was so excited to be making clothes and be given the opportunity. Those collections were when I first started showing seasonally. Now, I am maybe more jaded. Fashion is just fashion. There are so many clothes out there. So many brands. I want to say something with what I am creating so that in 20 years’ time I can look back and be proud of my work, instead of looking back and seeing a pursuit of sales. For me, it makes me feel better about what I do. We are not saving the world—we are just making clothes. So, if I can touch or educate someone, I am doing my job.

BW: You seem to have adopted a more serious take on your craft. It is visible in your designs too. Was that a commercial move to some extent?

CL: Everyone kept saying, “Oh, I love it, it’s a party dress! A party girl!” It tailored to a certain aesthetic. The designs have evolved in reaction to market research, feedback from my retailers, and looking at what I wear, which I should have been doing from the beginning. I am learning how to play with textile and a normal shape to increase the longevity and practical use of the pieces.

I try to not produce anything en masse. We run made-to-order. Although I am conscious of my production and my factories, there is no way of being sustainable unless you’re literally growing the material yourself and it biodegrades. There is a lot of greenwashing that happens in the industry. I don’t claim to be sustainable. I don’t say, “This material is going to decompose if you throw it away.” But I will say, “Don’t throw it away.”

As for my own buying habits, I purchase something maybe every six months. I wear it to death, and they become part of my wardrobe. I still have pieces I bought in high school, and I keep figuring out new ways to continue wearing them. That is how I want people to consume my products. We’re trying to produce as little as possible. The hope is that when you get a piece, you will love it, wear it until you are 50, and give it to your kids.

BW: Everyone has very different aims in fashion. Some strive for capital, others, followers and A-listers. Kylie Jenner, Dua Lipa, Doja Cat, and Zendaya, to name but a few, have worn your designs. You are stocked at SSENSE, Selfridges, and Zalando. What is your metric of success?

CL: I want to be able to make beautiful items and not stress about the next paycheck. The money comes in ebbs and flows. Sometimes it’s, “Great, we’re fucking rich!” Then, the next month, you are like, “Oh my God. I am poor,” then, “Oh my God, I’m filthy rich!” It’s so unstable. Success for me is stability. To be able to relax and take a breath. I don’t want to be a billionaire. That’s crazy. Eat the rich. I’d rather be happy.

BW: From an outsider’s perspective, it looks as if you have achieved stability. What do you think you need to get there?

CL: I don’t know. The magic fairy will tell me how to do it.

BW: Do you have any fairy godmothers hiding somewhere?

CL: I have a lot of friends in different spaces. We trade information. One of my friends is the creative director for Nina Ricci, whom I learn a lot from. We teach one another things that the other hasn’t done before. I taught him about e-commerce, he taught me about direct-to-consumer. We are the same age, in the same industry, and on different paths, yet we are able to help each other. I see older mentors as detrimental figures because you end up following someone else’s script. But with my friends and colleagues, we can bounce ideas off each other, try new things. And that is far more valuable. I am not scared of fucking something up. Every mistake is reversible. Everything happens for a reason. I would rather make my own mistakes than someone else’s.

BW: There is a sense, in the way you speak, of you believing in a greater plan, maybe even a higher power. As you said earlier, your SS23 collection referenced Buddhism. Are you still attached to this faith?

CL: I would define myself as spiritual now. In China, you are taught that Buddha is God. I have adopted a somewhat more realistic perspective from the scriptures he wrote. Not so much, “If I light this candle, it will bring me good vibes”—I still do that because it is nice to surround yourself with candles—but my mentality is that we are all living on the same planet, doing our own thing, everything’s going to be fine. Everything works itself out. Every problem that I’ve had in the past has always felt like it was going to be the end of the world. Growing up with a lot of anxiety and depression can breed a bad outlook on life. I have come to realize there is always light at the end of the tunnel. That is coming from a very blessed standpoint, but still. When I think about the worst possible scenarios, such as having to shut my own brand, I realize that I will still have the skills to be a designer in another house, become an artist or a sculptor. There are a million things I could do. There is this constant idea in fashion that everything is the end of the world. We’re just doing clothes. We’ll be fine.

BW: You once mentioned you dreamed of a Chet World, what would that entail?

CL: It would involve a gigantic spiky globe. Literally everything covered in spikes. It is slowly happening in my own wardrobe.

BW: What’s the obsession?

CL: It is a reference to durian fruit, which is something my family loves. I hated it when I was growing up, but I loved the significance of it. It’s so polarizing. It is aggressive, protective, armor-like. When combined with the soft textile of knit, I find it to be the perfect interpolation of my personality.

People love the spikes, but they say they are too crazy or directional. I think there are a lot of practical uses that prohibit my designs. I would love to go into homeware. AR. Technology. I think the whole aesthetic would be far more approachable. It would be so nice to be able to just branch out and try new things. I love the world of fashion. I love 3D. Things that are wearable. But, at the same time, I feel like I have a lot more to say. A lot more to give. I’ve been doing these massive art pieces recently. I find them super cathartic. I would love to be able to show them to the world someday.

BW: What is stopping you?

CL: For now, they are just for me. The world will have to wait.