To-orist Studio Visit

In an unfamiliar part of North London, sandwiched between an industrial estate on one side and a reed-covered canal bank on the other, sits the studio and showroom of Brian Gathii's label, To-orist. We took some time out to visit his studio to learn more about the label. Oh, and did we mention that Brian's studio is located on a forty-foot barge?

Click on the next page to view a video that we shot while Brian was showing us around the barge, then continue through the feature to read an interview with Brian, in which he explains how his love of adventure, travel, and discovery has manifested itself in the form of a clothing line, To-orist.

Housed in the hull of a forty-foot barge, Brian's studio is impressive. The sheer size of the boat, matched by the surprising amount of space inside, takes your mind off the fact that this isn't a gimmick but is in fact a confident assertion of To-orist's identity.

'To-orist is based on exploration', explains Brian. 'Even my name "Gathii" means traveller, wanderer.' Tourist by name, tourist by nature. But although this iron-hulled monster is on a fixed mooring - it has been a good few years since the sails were unfurled or the engine fired up - it instantly speaks of travel, exploration, and a nomadic existence that resonates with Brian.

Inside this theme is carried over, as the surprisingly spacious interior is decked out with foreign and otherworldly objects collected by Brian over the years. Individually, these pieces have no right to be together - a Nepalese Sherpa's bag sits next to a pair of futuristic-looking sunglasses, picked up in a tat shop in Ibiza - but with Brian as the through-line, this collection of disparate objects comes together as a physical representation of To-orist's aesthetic.

To discover more about this aesthetic, we quizzed Brian about some of the items that decorated his boat and the reasons why he collected them.

The first piece to catch our eye was actually balanced on Brian's head. 'Where was if from?', we asked: 'Australia? Africa? South America?'

'Actually, this is going to be funny' he says. 'I picked this up off a tramp in Shoreditch, years ago. She was an old lady selling odd bits on laid-out newspapers on a Sunday and I just picked it up for about five pounds.'

With a distinctly Australian feel to it, it wasn't long before a Crocodile Dundee joke was made. 'It is a bit Dundee-ish, isn't it?' smiled Brian. 'The reference can kill it sometimes, but that's how it is with a collection: the reference points can be quite odd and sometimes distasteful, but with the right twist and execution you can give it a good look.'

Next to catch our eye was a peculiar square animal-hide backpack. From the aged leather on the straps and the thick animal fur, now thinning in places, this bag looked like it had a story to tell. But, interestingly, Brian was more concerned with the shape and look of the piece, not the specifics.

'I get the sense that it's from Tibet or something… it might be camel' he suggests. 'If it evokes a certain emotion for me, that's what I go with'. This idea of choosing something not because of its history of context, but because of what it means to you is interesting.

This bag might be 100 years old, taken off the back of a Sherpa in Nepal; it might be a replica produced in a factory in Kent - it doesn't matter. What matters is that something about it resonated with Brian and this idea of sampling from anywhere and everywhere is key to To-orist.

Any fan of To-orist should recognise the floral tapestry print on this bag. In fact, Brian's obsession with the print predates To-orist the brand, as he explains:

'I like the old fashioned notion of a pensioner's dress sense and this was a bag that I bought from a charity shop near where I live years before I became a designer. I used to lug this around - you can imagine a boy going to uni or college with one of these.'

Now, that same print finds its way onto shirts and t-shirts within the To-orist collection, and although Brian admits that it might be the sort of print you'd see on the handbag of a Turkish aunt, it is exactly this clash that he relishes.

So far, you could be forgiven for thinking that Brian's collection is exclusively vintage pieces, nostalgically collected as a nod to the past. These glasses, for example, picked up in 'one of those tacky tourist shops in Ibiza', have a distinctly futuristic edge to them and, once again, demonstrate this democratic process of taking objects from anywhere.

What typifies Brian's approach is this openness and a willingness to see what others may not. They say travel broadens the mind, but the mind first has to be receptive. Early Victorian tourists visiting the pyramids and sphinx often noted their disappointment at being confronted, at the end of a long journey, by a pile of weather-beaten rocks. A tourist can either be along for the ride or a traveller through more than just physical space: one who is open to newness, wonder, and intrigue.

Considering Brian's approach it seems apt to finish this feature with something borrowed. More specifically, it is rule five from cult American director Jim Jarmusch's Golden Rules of Filmmaking. It reminded us so much of Brian's approach to design that it deserves to be repeated here, in full:

'Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don't bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: "It's not where you take things from - it's where you take them to.'



SHOP To-orist on oki-ni.