Thirty minutes before show time, an emergency arises. One of the models doesn’t have the right size shoes. Two badge-wearing girls huddle over a clipboard and then frantically plow through boxes in search of a solution. 

“Where are the shoes? We can’t find the shoes!” one cries. 

“Are they black and white?” the other asks. 

Watching quietly, Joy Han turns behind her, opens a shoebox sitting on a table and lifts out a pair of chunky white platforms.

“Try these,” she says, holding them by the heel straps. The model tries them on, looks satisfied and scurries into the rehearsal lineup.   

Done.

It’s a high-heeled circus backstage at Smashbox Studios in Culver City, Calif., where Los Angeles’ Fashion Week is taking place. Han, creator of the ultra-hip label Voom by Joy Han, is about to unveil her 2008 Spring/Summer collection. Swarming inside the white tent are producers, stylists, makeup artists, assistants and PR people, all with very important missions. 

“First looks, please!” yells a man wearing a tight black shirt and a headset, dodging a jam of reporters and TV cameras. 

“Hair person! I need a hair person!” someone blurts from the dressing area. 

The designer, dressed whimsically in a yellow polka-dot top, skinny jeans and a floppy black hat, stands poised and undeterred. She calmly surveys the room as her models get powdered, hair-sprayed and pinned.

“This is already my fourth time doing this,” explains Han, who happens to be celebrating her 37th birthday today. “I know what I’m doing.”

Over the past decade, Han has gone from a soft-spoken aspiring designer from Seoul to one of the hottest names in the L.A. fashion scene. She’s known for creating vintage-inspired ensembles with splashes of bold colors. Think ‘50s pinup girls meet Roy Lichtenstein’s pop art. Today’s show has a school-girl-gone-insane feel. Wedged in the models’ high-coifed hair buns are giant Lego blocks, alarm clocks and 3D glasses. 

The quiet star of the backstage frenzy, Han is a portrait of confidence. She dishes about an incident that happened earlier in the day. Through some mix-up, a model who was never booked happened to show up. She got her hair and makeup done with the other girls, but show organizers soon discovered she wasn’t on the list. 

“We had to let her go,” Han says candidly. “It was pretty crazy, but that’s the business.”   

Minutes before show time, the models get ready to step out onto the runway. Han does some final fiddling with their outfits, straightening collars, tucking in tank tops and tugging at belts.

“Thirty seconds!” a producer yells. Suddenly, hip-hop beats blare. 

It’s on.

 

The First Stitch

Born and raised in the bustling city of Seoul, Jonghee Han spent many of her childhood days in her mother’s bridal gown boutique, located just below her family’s loft. She’d watch carefully as the patternmakers and seamstresses transformed rolls of fabric into stunning creations.