On the Road with the Ace & Jig Designers
Every great road trip needs a stellar soundtrack. For the designers of Ace & Jig, who late last fall covered nearly 400 miles of California coastline in a tricked-out, turquoise VW bus, the musical selection was all about stoking a community of strong women. "We listened to a lot of Tina Turner and Solange's new album-loud-and drank a lot of coffee," says Jenna Wilson, who hit the highway with business partner Cary Vaughan and their creative team to glean West Coast inspiration and host a series of clothing swaps, inviting their followers to shop new Ace & Jig pieces and trade their gently worn favorites from the brand at like-minded boutiques in San Francisco, Santa Cruz, Ojai, and Los Angeles. For years, Wilson and Vaughan had talked about meeting their fans face-to-face and creating a space for everyone to interact. Why a swap? "It wasn't really our idea. It came from our fans, who already trade our pieces on Instagram," Vaughan says. "We just wanted to bring everyone together."
Wilson and Vaughan go way back. They first met in New York as fashion design interns in 2001 and later went on to tag team as creative directors for the contemporary brand LaRok. While each was taking a career hiatus to start families of their own, they also conceived Ace & Jig-its name inspired by their children's initials-and founded the label in Brooklyn in 2009. (Wilson now lives in Portland, while Vaughan works out of New York; they video-chat throughout the day to reference imagery and trade ideas.) Their convention-defying silhouettes, cut in kitten-soft cotton in vibrant hues and whimsical prints handloomed in India, include wide-legged, pleated gauchos in vivid stripes and supersoft, dropped-waist madras mini-dresses. To those in the know, these pieces are as instantly recognizable as a Birkin.
On the evening of the L.A. swap, Lauren Dittmer, who works in the wardrobe department of Fox's New Girl, recalls her Ace & Jig lightbulb moment: "I totally remember the first piece I bought, in maybe 2010. It was the Artisan Dress in a turquoise print called Isle." This is the final stop on the crew's weeklong odyssey, and about 80 young women-most wearing Ace & Jig, natch-have gathered at Individual Medley, a cool, artsy boutique in hip Atwater Village, to paw through piles of colorful samples and recycle their old pieces. The vibe feels as folksy as the brand, with women introducing themselves outside the dressing room and gushing over each other's Pamela Love rings and hippie-ish Ricardo Medina sandals. A few toddlers thread through legs as twenty- and thirtysomethings sip California rosé, and one shopper browses via FaceTime for a friend who just had a baby. "Our fans are as passionate as we are," Vaughan says. "I just met a woman who drove two-and-a-half hours from Ontario to get here." As for the seamstresses offering gratis repairs in the VW, mending tears and replacing buttons, Wilson explains, "Sustainability is the cornerstone of our brand, and doing repairs or swapping is another way to extend the length of the clothes. We try to never have waste."
In this, Ace & Jig is far from alone. The global impact of the fashion supply chain and its hulking environmental footprint is also a hot topic among bigger brands. Last spring, H&M's high-end, eco-friendly Conscious Exclusive collection was inspired by the costume archives at Paris's Musée des Arts Décoratifs. Patagonia promotes long-term use with its "Worn Wear" program of free repairs and recycling. Even luxury giant Kering-parent company of Gucci, Balenciaga, and Christopher Kane-operates a Materials Innovation Lab to reduce harmful emissions and source responsible raw fabrics for its labels. But these are all huge initiatives, not to mention marketing points to score a karmic connection with consumers. By contrast, Ace & Jig's homespun approach-like passing out scrap kits at the swaps and encouraging the brand's 57,000 Instagram followers to trade pieces instead of pressing them to always buy new ones-has currency on a micro level. "I wear my Ace & Jig to work every day, and I give everyone a 20-minute spiel about how everything is handmade in India and how they hire women and offer child care," says Emilia Gaskell, 30, who drove down from Fullerton, California, to meet her fellow Ace & Jig fanatics, some of whom she already knows from bartering online. "It's weird that being obsessed with a clothing brand means that you share other values. It becomes like a movement."
In less than two hours at the L.A. swap, all 50 or so items that women brought from home have changed hands, free of charge, and the piles of one-off samples for sale are mostly depleted. But the crowd lingers, as devotees approach Wilson and Vaughan for a hug or a selfie. "I have lived in L.A. for years, and I've never felt starstruck, except for once when I met Keanu Reeves," says Stephanie Peterson, a professional organizer from South Pasadena. "But I was such a groupie when I met the designers-I have so much respect for them and this brand." Clearly, Ace & Jig's commitment to community, female enterprise, and sustainability holds as much appeal as its woven creations. And based on the success of this maiden voyage, more tours are planned for later this year. "This all feeds into the ethics of what we care about," Wilson says. "We want women to have such a deep emotional resonance with our clothes that they want to pass them along with love."
The Ace and Jig Road-Trip Guide
San Francisco
SHOP: Vintage store Sunchild's Parlour on Haight Street
STAY: The Red Victorian, a circa 1904 Haight hotel, complete with "Summer of Love" and "Flower Child" rooms
Ojai
SHOP: The "beautifully curated" boutique In the Field
EAT: Tacos al fresco at Farmer and the Cook
NIGHT OUT: Caravan Outpost for banjo bonfires and beers in Airstreams
Los Angeles
EAT: Fresh Mediterranean pasta and fish, and "the best canelés" at Canelé on Glendale Blvd.
PICK-ME-UP: Pastries from Proof Bakery
This article originally appeared in the March 2017 issue of ELLE.
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