Rei Kawakubo doesn’t wish to explain herself. The Comme des Garçons engineer famously evades questions in interviews, when she gives them during all. “The best approach to know me,” as she once seemingly put it, “is to demeanour during my clothing.” By that account, a label’s fans will get a really personal introduction next week, when 140 pieces from a repository go on perspective during a Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute. But there’s another means of investigation, as any inquisitive cooking guest knows: peering into someone’s lavatory cabinet. The choice of toothpaste, a code of face cream, a deficiency or participation of redolence paints a graphic picture—a dim one, as a box might be for Kawakubo.
Partial to uniform dressing—black propitious leather jacket, frail onyx bob—Kawakubo is famous for collections that bear “a palette of harsh black,” as Lynn Yaeger writes in this month’s profile of a designer. What does that meant for verbal care? The answer arrives as if on cue, with today’s launch of an all-black electric toothbrush by Goby. The association (named after a fish dubbed “the dentist of a sea,” yet it could also go by Comme des Poissons) has revamped a business of teeth-cleaning in a Warby Parker vein: intelligent sourcing, direct-to-consumer delivery, and neat packaging. But this limited-edition colorway has elicited responses even cofounder Benjamin Goldberg didn’t expect: “If a toothbrush could be sexy, that is a voluptuous toothbrush,” he recounts with a laugh. “New Yorkers seem to adore all things black.” Yes, they do. Chances are they’ll also like Goby’s subscription model, that dispenses $6 deputy brush heads to your door, like dentist-approved clockwork.
That’s usually a beginning. Naturally, a Comme des Garçons–approved lavatory includes one of a cult fragrances—Blackpepper, please—in a bulbous, asymmetrical vessel that mirrors a wonky clothes. An exfoliating facial puff, done with binchotan colourless to adsorb impurities, looks like something hairstylist and longtime Comme co-operator Julien d’Ys would conform into a weird runway headpiece. (Who knows? Keep an eye out subsequent season.) Surratt’s razor-thin glass eyeliner, styled after a Japanese calligraphy brush, promises pointing fitting a really sold designer, and a modernist dark compress echoes Kawakubo’s blunt-cut bangs. The tiny things matters, too: string swabs, hair bands, spike clipper, all partial of a gang. But a loyal CDG fan knows that all-black isn’t always all-serious. In a suggestion of a brand’s Play line, there’s a striped soap and a splendid red mouth pencil, in loyalty to that signature eye-festooned heart.