Paul Smith was standing in his store on Albemarle Street in London — where he works every Saturday on the shop floor — when a fascinating customer caught his eye. “A lady came to the store as a rabbit. She was as we are now, just chatting,” says Smith, who’s been collecting lucky rabbit figurines for years. “I said, ‘Can I help you? Do you need a new tail or anything?'”
Smith’s customers, an eclectic bunch, tend to treat him like an old friend, while anonymous admirers from around the world send him inexplicable gifts — a 20-foot-long yellow pencil, carved fish, bicycles, duck and goose statues and the crinkly wrappers used to pack fresh fruit — all of which he stores in his curiosity shop of an office.
His past 56 years in business have been just as colorful. He’s mingled with everyone from King Charles III to David Hockney and Andy Warhol, and made suits for Paul McCartney, David Bowie and the British cycling champion Bradley Wiggins.
Through it all, he hasn’t lost the zaniness of his youth. He may be Britain’s most successful fashion designer, and an establishment pillar, but can still twist his lanky figure into a pretzel, and never misses the chance to let slip a silly pun — or a hearty laugh.
In September, he recreated his famously overstuffed office at Selfridges’ Corner Shop, filling it with 400 cycle jerseys, several bikes, a Paul Smith Mini, hundreds of books, old televisions, old cycling books, hats and cameras. “Look,” he says during an interview, pointing to two nautical-themed objects that were part of the Selfridges display, “Fish — and ships!”
There has always been a childish aspect to him — in a good way — and his curiosity hasn’t dimmed even as his age has advanced. He turned 80 in July, and looks terrific with his floppy hair, hipster glasses and Pilates- and swimming-toned physique — although he jokingly refers to himself as “an old codger.”
A woman named Yuri on the Japanese team refers to Smith as the company’s “head of happiness,” and he’s been running the business on a tank of whimsy, humor and hard work for nearly six decades. “I adore coming to work,” says Smith, who’s still putting in the hours, traveling regularly to Japan, where his longtime minority shareholder, Itochu Corp., is based.
He made his fortune in fashion by adding wacky polka-dot prints to boxer shorts, wonky stripes to shirts and socks and, earlier in his career, changing the look and feel of British men’s tailoring. He made his suits roomier and easier to move in, with dropped lapels and softer shoulders and added colors like lavender and lemon — usually reserved for women — to his signature check patterns.
In the 1970s, he was working in parallel with Giorgio Armani on loosening up the suit, and in his excellent new memoir, “Threads: My Life in Style,” published by Macmillan, Smith talks at length about his relationship with the late Italian fashion icon, whom he knew and admired.
Although Smith never reached the heights of Armani, he remains the most financially successful independent designer of his generation — and possibly the most garlanded. His net worth is in excess of 240 million pounds, according to The Sunday Times of London, and he was knighted in 2000.
Two decades later, Smith became the first fashion designer to be named a Companion of Honour to the British monarch, and today sits alongside other British high-achievers such as Judi Dench, David Chipperfield, Kazuo Ishiguro, Antony Gormley and Don McCullin on an elite list of 65.
Although he still goes to work every day, driving his electric, customized Paul Smith Mini Cooper and bouncing through the door of the brand’s Covent Garden headquarters, Smith has also taken the time to reflect on the past, his legacy and eponymous foundation, which offers — among other things — studio space and business mentoring to emerging fashion creatives.
He wrote the memoir with help from his old friend from Nottingham, journalist Richard Williams, and said he wanted to tell younger generations how important hard work, stamina — and enjoying life — are to success.
He tells young designers “there’s no magic wand. When people say I was ‘lucky’ in Japan, Pauline always responds that luck equals hard work and a lot of lateral thinking,” says Smith, referring to his wife, Pauline Denyer, a designer, teacher and retailer educated at the Royal College of Art who has been a mentor and moral support for him since the two met in Nottingham in the late 1960s.
Smith also wants to impress upon young people that his journey has been unconventional, and success has come without a fancy college degree or a family able to bankroll him. He left school at 15 with undiagnosed dyslexia, but had a flair for styling, a love of photography (encouraged by his supportive father, Harold) and a curiosity about the world, which led him into tailoring, fashion and retail.
The book also offers insights into his resilience — and lateral thinking. Smith’s first shop in his native Nottingham measured 12 feet by 12 feet, and the “manager” was his and Pauline’s Afghan hound, Homer. It was in that closet-like space, which was only open on Fridays and Saturdays, that he learned how to market, sell and engage with customers.
“You can do things in a humble way. So many of the young people and fashion students I meet think getting ahead is about networking, becoming well-known and starting your own company. But so many of them eventually close down.”
He also believes young people should enjoy the journey, and take a more human approach to their careers.
“Life is about friendship, camaraderie, love, health. It’s about pacing yourself and enjoying everyday things. You can be ambitious, you can want to be successful. But you also have to get the balance right, make the attention-seeking pieces, do the special projects — and pay the rent,” says Smith, a savvy businessman who has not only paid the rent, but also built up an extensive retail property portfolio.
He’s taken the ups and downs of business in his stride and remains proud of being the majority owner of his company and the man who can make the fashion magic happen.
“There’s always a new way to look at the world,” says Smith, who places his hands on top of his head — like bunny ears — and waves goodbye.