Serbian-born Dušan Paunovic is one of fashion’s best kept secrets, a rare under-the-radar bird that has so far shied away from publicity on social media and elsewhere, is indifferent to catwalks, hates logos, and has been discreetly sending out his eponymous collections for 25 years from a studio in Milan located in a chic modernist building, hidden from view by a tall iron gate. His clientele is the crème de la crème of top-notch international retailers most fashion designers only dream of selling to; he’s the darling of a private network of discerning society ladies and their daughters who, as pedigreed Milanese do, scrupulously conceal their wealth, believing that flaunting it would be a kind of despicable insensitivity.
Before launching his own independent line in 1999, Paunovic worked for six years as Zoran Ladicorbic’s right hand. A fashion figure of now mythical status, Zoran can be credited as being an ante litteram proponent of luxurious, expensive, androgynous minimalism—the Olsen twins owe his influence a huge debt of gratitude : without Zoran, The Row couldn’t have existed. “I consider myself to be his legitimate heir,” said Paunovic, only half-joking.
Listening to him talk about his experience with the reclusive, opinionated Zoran is fascinating, as it opens doors to a first-hand testimony and narration of American and international fashion from the ’70s onward. Before decamping to Milan, Zoran opened his first New York atelier in 1975, mingling with the likes of Halston and the Studio 54 set. He closed it down in 2010, mysteriously disappearing from view. “No one knows where he is, not even his closest clients and friends know his whereabouts,” said the equally mysterious Paunovic. His line is a faithful continuation of Zoran’s principles of stripped-down high style, “because I believe that his vision has to be preserved. It’s style and not fashion; it’s impossible to be copied, because it’s based on subtle secrets that nobody knows.”
The fall collection celebrating Paunovic’s 25-years career was only slightly different to those that preceded it. He has unfalteringly riffed on the same creative ethos his entire life, and he’s not going to take any easier detour anytime soon; he just keeps slightly adjusting some proportions, lengthening or shortening the hems of his fabulous coats in a rare albino shade of camel hair, or changing just so how a pair of vicuña trousers sit on the hips. No skirts or dresses have ever had a place in his collections; bright colors are anathema. This season for the first time in years he cautiously introduced an unstructured double-breasted blazer, and added a shade of peacock blue-green that looked resplendent on an ensemble in silk taffeta—as his family name in Serbian actually means peacock, it seemed an appropriate way to break the ice of chromatic taboos. Paunovic also doesn’t compromise on the stellar quality of the fabrics he bases his designs on, because “the more shapes and lines are pure, the more fabrics must have the right cadence.”
The only concession to frivolity (so to speak) was elongated shirts inspired by Russian rubashkas worn with his signature fluid, ample trousers, or evening pantsuits in heavy slate gray silk satin so incredibly liquid, it feels like melting mercury. Paunovic revels in not being trendy, a term he abhors; he wants to stay niche and far from the madding crowd. He’s unfazed by celebrities, and doesn’t endorse or dress any brand ambassador. Like his master Zoran, he’s a contrarian, and doesn’t mince words about his beliefs. “I dress a niche of women big fashion conglomerates aren’t interested in—but those women interest me a great deal,” he said. “The more people there are who talk about the Kardashians, the more people there’ll be who don’t want to know about them.”
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