Cherry Kim is quick to dismiss herself as the “chair lady”. But it’s chairs — and really iconic chairs, at that — that have put the 24-year-old, Aotearoa-born, New York- based designer on the global stage with her custom studio label, Rhee. In a lockdown-fuelled burst of creativity, Kim has turned an accidental hobby into a side hustle that’s garnered the attention of international streetwear collectors and culture media alike, from Complex and The Observer to The Business of Fashion.

Named after Kim’s mother’s maiden name, Rhee is the manifestation of the designer’s New York lockdown environment. A womenswear and print designer by trade, Kim found herself at home, with reduced work hours and limited art supplies.

“Covid hit last year. It was a totally different environment, going from existing in the same space as my team to working remotely, constantly being on Google meet calls, trying to figure out a collection. Things felt a bit slower — I think everyone detached from feeling the need to have a collection [made by a certain] ... deadline. Everyone’s hours got dropped and things slowed down, so it was during this time that I started to illustrate,” Kim reflects.

Armed with the only art supplies she had — Sharpies as the medium and vintage cotton Stan Rays as the canvas — Kim began to draw. Initially, the illustrations were in the form of “pretty manic” logos, Disney characters, and postcards. It wasn’t until she traded in the Sharpies for a set of fabric markers that Kim began experimenting with the one household item that was on her mind — chairs.

The ubiquity of the chair is something that parallels her design aesthetic completely, Kim explains. “I like how chairs can be so aesthetically pleasing but also functional. I feel that really touches on my aesthetic in different areas of my life. Like with the Carhartts [another favoured canvas for Kim] — I feel like they’re a beautiful pair of pants but they’re workwear, easy to live in, and fully functional.”

Not only did the chair echo Kim’s design aesthetic, but the symbolic nature of the common household object, too, resonated with her. Kim’s long-time interior obsession could finally have its moment. “I was really obsessed as a first-generation Kiwi with the idea of creating a home, even as a child. I shared a room with my sister till I was 13 or 14. So I was consumed with the idea of having my own space, having a bedroom that felt like my sanctuary,” she says.

The early years of Kim’s New York life weren’t too dissimilar from those of her childhood: having to share a bedroom with a roommate until finally having a room to call her own — and a means to exhibit her curiosity for domestic spaces and the furniture that exists within them. “A chair is a balance of that, of art and function. And I think delving into that I was really inspired by a lot of imagery and older Knoll photographs and I felt inspired to start a pair of chair pants,” Kim says.

She attributes much of Rhee’s success to social media. “I upload a lot of process images and fitting photos on my stories and it’s easy to see how things will do, ahead of manufacturing them,” she explains. And it’s the power of social media that keeps Kim going too. Through an open dialogue between her audience, pre-existing customers, and potential clients, Kim can gauge interest at the early stages of production, creating an intimate and collaborative experience throughout the process.

Each Rhee piece is hand-drawn, and there’s an extensive sourcing process behind the canvas, which, Kim says, can be the most challenging part of production. Carhartt is Kim’s canvas of choice, and vintage too, with pairs from the ’80s and ’90s selling second-hand for up to US$120. Brand-new Carhartts retail at a much lower price point of US$30–$40, but the coarser, unworn textile makes them that much more difficult to draw on. Dickies and Levi’s serve as the canvas for her jacket, shirt, and overall creations.

While it’s no surprise that trunk shows are having a resurgence, the notion of the pre-order and made-to-order model is something that Kim feels is a more sustainable approach to fashion consumption. “The idea of sitting on stock terrifies me. The minimum order quantity and just having a box of T-shirts in your house scares me in terms of financial risk and waste,” Kim says. However, she’s quick to point out that while Rhee champions minimal waste and thoughtful consumption, Kim doesn’t want to label it as a sustainable brand. “I know that this [sustainability] is just a priority for me as a brand owner. But I think there is something very classist about labelling yourself as a sustainable brand. I think it’s only accessible for a certain number of people and I feel that doesn’t really sit well with me.”

Kim’s next steps for Rhee are to expand her offering with certain pieces printed with her illustrations — on pre-order too — and at limited qualities to not detract from the quality of the labour-intensive hand-drawn items. It’s a start, Kim says, at combating the accessibility obstacle.

And after Rhee’s current chair-inspired collection, Kim is taking her obsession with homewares one step further, with a study — that’s “younger and a little more fun” — of objects found in the home: “figurines, collectables, weird kitschy lamps, and teacups”. It’s a nostalgic nod to Kim’s upbringing: her mother, who was a collector (and occasional hoarder), and the frequent trips to garage sales and markets to source trinkets. This new collection was, at first, dreamt up by Kim with slight apprehension — after making a name for Rhee out of chair illustrations, would people expect and want even more chairs? But jumping headfirst into a new subject was what Kim realised she needed to do, so long as Rhee’s values remained the same: a pursuit of individualism and a more conscious existence — the recreation of liveable pieces of design that reflect the now.

“[Rhee is] what inspires me in the moment. I don’t work well with restrictions. I think I’ve had issues with [terminology like] brand consistency. I want Rhee to be super fluid and I want to be kind of selfish with it in a way where I want to use it as an outlet where I do what I want at that moment. Kind of like a timestamp.”

Words by Courtney Joe. Images by Nicholas Shaya.
This feature was originally published in Fashion Quarterly magazine, autumn 2021.