"This is now."
Teddy Santis peppers the phrase into just about everything as we look over the newest collection, now made in and firmly inspired by the city in which he grew up: New York. We're sitting in the lounge at SoHo house, eating breakfast at 10am on Tuesday morning, a few hours later than his typically early bird schedule. He orders the waffles. "I'm a breakfast man," he says. "I'm up early every day. It's like cheating almost. Sometimes I think if I've bitten off a little more than I can chew, but I get up, structure my day and it helps me work better." It might not be as early as he's used to, but he already has his mind on what's next. Namely, the Aimé Leon Dore pop-up shop he's opening starting Thursday.
Throughout our conversation, Santis' hands fly back and forth as he speeds from topic to topic, occasionally losing his train of thought. He's 100% Greek. "We love to feed people and talk. It's our biggest value in life,” he says. I'm secretly worried he'll knock something over.
His brand, Aimé Leon Dore, blew up beyond his expectations when it launched in January. "People thought we were bigger than we really were after the first collection," he says. "Then, for the second one, we were still growing so quickly. I feel like this third collection is our graduation. We're showing people we mean business."
Filled with slim, waffle-lined sweats, topcoats, hand-distressed denim and flannels, the third collection, entitled "0214 New York," reads more as a refined look into Santis' life than a simple lineup of clothing. It's more mature than what he's done before and composed of basically of what we both have on that morning: hoodies under topcoats and slim, cropped pants all of which are made in New York and take after his experience growing up in 1980s Queens. It is right now. Those first collections epitomized a learning process, which is what made them great, he says: "We learned in front of everyone's eyes. But I'll be the first to say there were a lot of things I would have done differently now that I know better."
Even though it's essentially five guys working together in a cramped, one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan's Upper East Side, ALD has found its direction and built a loyal fan base, evidenced by the turnout at a pop-up in Amsterdam done in conjunction with homegrown footwear brand Filling Pieces: "It was eye-opening. I realized that this was a bit bigger than we think it is and it's going to grow a lot quicker if we keep doing what we do." And it has done just that.
As we roll to a stoplight, a group of kids, suspiciously out of school at this hour, cross the street, ogle the car and give a thumbs up in approval. Teddy smiles, 'I used to be that kid.'
The brand "lives on the Internet," as Santis puts it. Some designers may see that label as a hindrance, but he embraces it: "We have to evolve. Five years ago, the Internet was huge, but now it's even bigger. Aimé could have started five years ago, but the Internet made starting it last year that much easier."
But unlike many other digitally-based clothing brands, ALD doesn't do regular drops of one product or abbreviated capsule collections. Instead, it functions on a more standard, seasonal release schedule, which lets the pieces speak for the brand's quiet self-image: "We don't want to force the product down anyone's throat. It just tastes so much better when someone sees the final product." Santis admits that as the brand grows even more, it will have to do capsule collections, limited edition products and the like to cover overhead cost. But, for now, he wants every release to have a crystal clear purpose and vision.
We leave SoHo House, hop in his black Porsche 911 and head to the pop-up space. It's slow through Manhattan traffic, but he isn't bothered. "I enjoy driving, even with the whole traffic situation," he says. "It lets you listen to music and get inspired. Nobody is bothering you." As we roll to a stoplight, a group of kids, suspiciously out of school at this hour, cross the street, ogle the car and give a thumbs up in approval. Teddy smiles, "I used to be that kid."
In a way, he still is. He's young, just 28-years-old, with mostly older friends. But there's no denying that both he and his brand have been forced to grow up quick.
"We have mad work to do," he says. It's another phrase he's said a lot lately. He's juggling much more things than his focused appearance lets on. While he organizes the pop-up shop and releases the new collection, he's also planning for a wedding in June and his fiancé moving in. He's realized the importance of planning outside of himself. Again, there's that flash of hesitation from breakfast—that "I think I've bitten off more than I can chew." And, again, in typical Teddy Santis fashion, it passes as quickly as it arrived: "You just have to go and put the hours in."
And he's put in a lot of hours. Outside the pop-up, a small, bare bones space on Mott St. that was a bodega before it was turned into an art gallery, Santis gets on and off the phone to organize the team setting up the space. It's around noon and his phone has already dwindled down to 45% battery. There's less than 36 hours until the opening and things are in a bit of a pinch. The space still needs to be painted and the displays built. He's amped up and a bit frustrated, but still calm as he paces around the area, putting in even more of those hours.
Santis is aware of the position he's in. It would have been easy for him to stick to what worked the first time around, given the overwhelming response. But never one to rest on his laurels, he wants to do more, much more: "There's huge growth here and it shows. You have to be a student to succeed and get better at everything you do." Fortunately, unlike the kids we crossed paths with earlier, he's never been one to skip class.
Aimé Leon Dore's latest collection is available Thursday through Sunday, 9am-10pm, at 179 Mott St., New York, and online starting November 24th.
