So, uh, truth be told, I didn’t see the show for this Haderlump collection. But I saw the collection the following day, and chatted with the label’s creative director Johann Ehrhardt at the showroom for Berlin’s younger labels at the Chateau Royal hotel, more of which later. Here’s what happened. While my fellow showgoers at Avenir were beating a path to Berlin’s Tempelhof airport where the Haderlump show was being held, I was cowering under the canopy of one of the many gleaming metal and glass monuments to corporate power around Potsdamer Platz, shielding myself from the wet weather, trying to find my car. (The only thing that was driving here was the rain.) And trying. And trying. Which became trying. Then I gave up trying because you can only try so much.
Fast forward to the following day, and Ehrhardt is talking about how he landed on showing at one of the hangars at the city’s historic Tempelhof, the models walking around the cavernous space theatrically framed by several vintage aircraft. “It’s a really sweet story,” he said. “Every time I would sit on my balcony, I looked onto the top floor of the building opposite, with a big empty room. I dreamt about doing a show there, but that wasn’t possible, but I had this idea of doing a show”—he started to laugh—“with a theme of sky over Berlin, but that was a little bit cheesy.” So, thinking about that, and his surname, which he shares (phonetically, at least) with a certain legendary woman from the past called Amelia, he arrived at the idea of an airport—and then called the collection Aero.
Aero turns up on a cropped black nylon MA1-style flight jacket, the word embroidered on the chest, while the back reveals an arc of grommeted lacing. It’s one of the custom pieces the Haderlump label offers, part of its attempt to cut waste by being mindful of how much they use—he likes to draw on deadstock fabrics, though is less keen on upcycling per se, thinking it too limiting creatively—and minimizing waste, and by having everything made to order locally in Berlin. (Haderlump, it turns out, was the term given to 18th century people in Germany who practiced an early form of recycling, apparently.) Another custom piece in the collection, a wide shouldered black coat, adorned with an altitude meter, had a seamed sheer back, mimicking, said Ehrhardt, the fabrication of a parachute.
Elsewhere, a black bomber jacket—the bomber offers endless fascination, and opportunity for reinvention, to this city’s designers, it seems—is draped and gathered, creating a rippling effect across it, and is designed, as is everything else here, without recourse to thinking about gender. For Ehrhardt, the bomber is the archetypal Haderlump item, perhaps to be worn with a pair of strictly belted and high waisted wide legged jeans or trousers. For Ehrhardt, the appeal of the bomber to him as a designer is due to its appeal for the people wearing his clothes. “You make the tailleur finish that bit higher,” he said with a grin, “and it can make your butt look higher too.”
Haderlump, says Ehrhardt, is tapping into what he calls “the Berlin aesthetic.” For him, that means, he says, “the world of techno and clubs, so I want to make clothes that reflect those, but which are also wearable; you can wear them to a club, or on the street.” But if he’s thinking about the look of the city, he’s also serious about the mindset of it too; its unique blend of coolness, pragmatism and unpretentiousness. As we wrapped up our chat, he suggested something which reflected that very mix: Have classes for kids to learn how to create their own clothes, giving them the skills to repurpose or make from scratch things to wear. It’s a great idea, and one that could really fly.
