The Berlin designer exploring what it means to be Vietnamese in Germany

When you think of Berlin, it is easy to see its Turkish, Russian and Polish influences around the city – but there is also a 20,000-strong Vietnamese population that shapes the rhythm of daily life in the city. From the ubiquitous flower shops, to the Buddhist temple and the Don Xuan center in Little Hanoi that is the goal of many Sunday pilgrimages to buy everything from furniture to wigs, its presence is there. One of the German capital’s emerging designers, Johny Pham, also traces his roots to the South-Asian peninsula. As a first generation German-Vietnamese designer Pham used his first collection, entitled “A way of doing,” to create clothes that reflect his community, one that is both overlooked and underrepresented. 

The recent Hochschule für Technik und Wirtschaft graduate says that the collection’s origin story begins with his upbringing in a rural town outside of Hannover. His memories of his hometown include being lambasted on the streets for his sexual orientation. “Everyone would shout and say, ‘this is the gay one!”, Pham recalls. Though he spent his childhood dancing, it was the hours spent reading fashion blogs that stoked flames of interest for his future profession. Unlike his brother and sister, who were born in Vietnam and relocated in their late teens, Pham was born on German soil. 

As a child he was seamlessly integrated into his European community, but his ability to fit in left him feeling estranged from his Vietnamese heritage (a topic which was additionally dismissed at home). “My upbringing was very whitewashed. When I was in high school, I actively abandoned my cultural heritage and tried to behave how others did. I remember there were certain table manners and behaviours that I changed or avoided”, says Pham.  It wasn’t until a trip to Vietnam at 16 that he would feel a kinship with Vietnam.

“I was just shocked about everything, mostly the drastic difference in circumstances for my family. It was fascinating but also super emotional for me,” says Pham. He remembers feeling particularly close with his aunt, who weaves her own fabrics. Shortly after his visit, Pham decided to move to Berlin for  fashion school and then came an internship for Craig Green in London. The cerebral utilitarian influence of the British designer is a visible part of Pham’s creative DNA. 

When it came time to create his first official collection, it was quickly evident that Pham would explore what he felt was a silenced aspect of his identity, and set out to create clothes which reflect what it means to be German-Vietnamese. Pham began by interviewing members of his community with the same roots, asking them about their processes of assimilation, differences in expectations and the role of fashion in both countries. 

Discussions about the Vietnamese affinity for branding led Pham to place his logo on the garments very overtly, as a kind of homage. The collection title was similarly derived from these exchanges.  “A way of doing”, a synonym of the word manner, references the difference in table manners in the two cultures, but also broader topics like punctuality, respect for the elderly, treatment of guests and modesty verses generosity. Pham and his peers discussed the pressure to adapt their behaviour to their environments and how dual identity can sometimes lead to feeling like an outsider in both cultures: too Vietnamese for Germany, and too German for Vietnam. Creating intimate connections with others helped broaden the experience Pham was translating from the individual to the collective. “It was personal information like this that helped give my approach to the clothes a kind of finesse”, he explains. 

Visually, Pham tapped into a canon of sartorial reference for Vietnamese dress that he built back as a teenager. Using only the most common fabrics in Vietnam – cotton, linen and silk – the collection silhouettes combine a traditional Vietnamese festivity gown called the “ao dai”, a loose fitting, brightly-coloured, pyjama like garment, with the technical details of German workwear. Pham infused the relaxed, tropical energy of Vietnamese dress with the formality of a German uniform.

“I drew from German workwear technology for the collection and added things like velcro on the hems, which aids in weather resistance”. The practicality of the clothing reflects German sensibility, and a cultural reverence for function over beauty. Pham’s earth-toned colour palette was derived from a reproduction of a famous Nguyen dynasty painting which hangs in his parents’ home. Pham also collaborated with a Berlin based artist, Gustav Sonntag, to create a unique print which references the traditional gender roles that shape modern day Vietnam; the dark, sexual print is a kind of feminist critique of repressive familial ideals.

The collection’s campaign images incorporate a watery landscape that references the plight of the Vietnamese “boat people” who sought political refuge in West Germany after being displaced by the Vietnam War. The clothing carries the weight of an unspoken struggle also for the many recruited Northern Vietnamese workers and students in the GDR, 60,000 of which lost their jobs, residences and immigration permits after reunification.

The Vietnamese community’s success in Germany after 1990 is one of great resilience, adaptability and entrepreneurship — and Pham’s pieces aim to celebrate this story. His designs serve as a reminder that Vietnam and Germany share a similar geographic area and population size, but also a history linked by politics and people. Even as a young designer, it seems Pham has succeeded in his mission to give a look, shape and feel to both his individual and collective experiences. Though his next professional steps are uncertain, his ability to create clothes which carry a cultural weight is definite.