Studio Joy Li

for JAVA Magazine, June, 2010

In modern relationship terminology, fashion is bad for us. Time after time it betrays us, and yet we keep going back to it. Even as we remain hopeful, we eventually learn not to put much faith in it.

Rightly so. By its very nature, fashion is an inconsistent and unpredictable partner. Sometimes the traits we initially found charming end up being plain annoying, and it stays around way too long. Other times, just when we think we're ready to settle down and make a long-term commitment, it comes through the door with a crappy new tattoo and an expensive habit and makes us wonder how we could have been so blind to its true nature. Oh fashion - "I don't know you anymore."

The truth is, fashion was always just too self-centered and mercenary to be trusted. How many of us have made the mistake of investing our hearts, only to find that the same pants we thought we understood like no other, will drop for just about anyone with a credit card or a cheap compliment? Fashion uses us and loses us...but still makes us want it.

To flip the (admittedly shaky) metaphor: The purpose of the fashion industry is to get us to stick around - to continue shelling out money in the desperate hope of not being left behind. In a partnership with fashion, any sense that we're in control is merely the result of mind games.

What's worse, and not at all metaphorical or funny, is that the fashion industry has a sad history of overlooking human rights abuses in favor of increased profits.

As you may have guessed, I am not the best choice for a fluff piece on "fashion." Not only am I cynical by nature, but...actually, "cynical by nature" pretty much does sum it up. Thankfully, I met someone related to the world of pret-a-porter with whom I couldn't agree more.

Joy Li, the designer behind Studio Joy Li on Stetson Drive in Scottsdale, has looked at the fashion industry from every angle in her 25-year career, and some of what she's seen has not been pretty. Along with her business partner, Jean Bartolomei, she has begun a design and manufacturing business that is meant to be the exception and perhaps eventually the rule - a partnership between consumer and fashion based upon mutual satisfaction and no guilt.

Studio Joy Li seeks to restore our faith in women's fashion. There is good reason to think they will succeed.

It would be easy to assume that Joy Li's success in the industry was a foregone conclusion. She's beautiful, articulate, self-assured and energetic. Though in her forties, she still has the figure that once inspired ready-to-wear mogul Liz Claiborne to make Joy THE shape of the Claiborne petit model in the 1980's ("I had to lay down in this stuff and they made a mold out of me…then they made dress forms out of the mold.") She has a degree in graphic design from Carnegie Mellon University. Isn't that enough?

"I was LUCKY!" she says more than once, when describing her circuitous rise to independence in the fashion business. And it was luck, both good and bad, along with her innate talents, which brought her to where she is today; bringing both practicality and a conscience to Studio Joy Li.

The first-born child of Chinese immigrant parents, Joy grew up in Buffalo, New York. "We didn't have toys." Instead, Joy expressed her creativity by drawing paper doll designs on the window panes. Still, the choice of a career in fashion was a non-starter as far her father was concerned. "My father always said that the fashion business was bad because it exploited Chinese labor," she says.

One stroke of luck was that Joy's father had been a graduate of Carnegie Mellon University. "I still couldn't take fashion, but since [her dad] had gone there, too, he didn't mind when I took Graphic Design because it was Carnegie Mellon." Though not fashion-oriented, this education gave Joy what she needed in the way of conceptual design fundamentals.

After university, Joy found graphic design work with a Fortune 500 company in Connecticut. One day she saw an in ad in the New York Times, looking for a petit fit model at Liz Claiborne in New York City. "I took the train into New York City and I got the job on the spot," remembers Joy.

Today, the Liz Claiborne company owns many other labels, such as Kenneth Cole, Kate Spade and Lucky Brand Jeans. Between the late 1970's and late 1980's, however, Ms. Claiborne herself was still in control and in the middle of the company's first major growth explosion. Joy had the luck of joining the company during this phase and the opportunity to learn from the master herself.

As a fit model, Joy was part of a small team which would fly to factories around the world where items for the Liz Claiborne brand were manufactured. Being the definition of what was then considered a size 6 (a 2 by modern standards), Joy would try on prototype clothing inside the factory. "Usually we'd put on the samples and then we'd go over the fit - Liz was always there - I'd say this is where it's a little snug or not quite right...then we'd be on our own until they were able to re-make the sample and call us back for another fitting. I always had a pager on me."

Often, Claiborne would be right beside Joy in the fitting room. "Liz would actually strip down and try on clothes right next to me...she was involved in everything...she really wanted to make sure that the quality was consistent. The goal was for all the clothes to fit exactly the same, no matter where in the world they were manufactured."

One challenge for Joy during this time in her life was that she needed to maintain a consistent body shape throughout the year. "It was a challenge because when I started, I was lifting weights...and then they told me that my arms were starting to get too big...also, on some of these trips maybe I'd get sick and so I'd maybe lose a little weight…"

This was clearly a pivotal and formative period for Joy, and one that she remembers with reverence. "I wasn't making much money, but I was living high and learning about the business," she recalls. "...I wanted to get in to fashion design so bad, but I hadn't gone to school for it. Usually that meant you'd have to start as a receptionist or something and try to work your way up." Joy's foot in the door was undoubtedly more fun than that.

Within two years, Joy had transitioned from model to designer when she accepted a role at Claiborne competitor Carol Little. Other jobs followed, including ones at Guess and Newport Blue Men's.

One incident during this period brought Joy back to Earth and served to mature her thinking as regards fashion and its place in our lives. A family emergency called her briefly to China, where the contrast between the lives of the coastal U.S. fashion set and those of the average Chinese citizen could not have been more pronounced. While frivolous fashions may have artistic significance, and may be fun, Joy started thinking more about clothing that was easy to live in.

In 2001, Joy relocated to the Valley, where she decided the time and place were right to strike out and do things her own way. Two tenets of Joy's "way" were specific corrections in the path she had watched the fashion business take over the course of her career.

The first of these was that the core of Joy's collection would be fundamentals of women's clothing that were meant to be kept for several seasons instead of tossed after only one. These would employ state of the art fabrics that kept their shape and resisted wear. Designed with equal emphasis to form as well as function, the pants, skirts, shirts and dresses in the Fundamentals line come in core colors of black, white and grey and can be mixed and matched with anything else in a woman's wardrobe.

Other lines, while more to the fore stylistically, still employ the ethos of wearability and matchability. Joy describes the brand as "for the woman going from the gym to the office or for the jet-setter who believes that Europe is possible with a single carryon."

The second intentional divergence from what many consider the fashion business mainstream is Studio Joy Li's commitment to fair treatment of the people who make the clothing that bears her brand. All the clothing in every Joy Li line is manufactured in the United States, with Joy and business partner Jean Bartolomei making frequent visits to the factories.

Though Joy doesn't want to isolate any of her past employers as particularly deserving of scorn, she has vivid memories of working conditions that repulsed her. "I'm talking women who had ropes tied to their arms so they had to pull enormous, heavy boxes across the floor…" The words of Joy's father about the exploitation inherent in the fashion business were given vivid detail. "I've quit jobs because of what I saw," she says.

Was there anywhere in the world where it was particularly prevalent?

"In every country in Asia."

Studio Joy Li is located in the Mix group of shops on Stetson Drive in Scottsdale's "SouthBridge District." There, all of Joy's current lines are on display in a showroom that is crisp, airy and bright. Joy encourages women to give her feedback and become real fans. American labor and small runs of fine fabrics mean that clothing from Studio Joy Li is not priced to compete with J.C. Penny; but it is more than reasonable considering the craftsmanship and exclusivity of the line. Prices typically range from tops in the $60's to outerwear in the high $400's.

There are, however, exceptions if you're among the Studio Joy Li in-crowd. "We hold a twice-a-year sample sale. I want to keep it fresh, so we'll have a box where anything in it is $20 and another where everything is $40 and so on."

And the future? "I definitely want to expand the size range. Right now it would be too expensive to offer more sizes than we do." Joy also sees philanthropy and sponsorship in the brand's future, but first things first.

There are a couple of ways to keep current with Studio Joy Li. The best is to stop by the shop at 7144 E. Stetson Drive, Suite 100 in Scottsdale. She also has a Twitter feed, which is studiojoyli, or you can visit the website at JoyLi.net.

JAVA Country Bar Roundup

For JAVA Magazine - May, 2010

(Miss Brittany Doster at Shotgun Betty's)

This ain't yer grand-pappy's Western scene, young 'un. The days when REAL cowboys frequented bars in the downtowns of Phoenix, Scottsdale or Tempe ended in the 1970's, if not earlier, and the establishments which catered to them ended as well. What replaced them were bars, steak restaurants and lounges which chose western-ness as a theme to attract the growing tourist and college dollars.

If you seriously want to get in with the crowd that knows how to castrate a bull (properly, I mean), then you'll have to head out of town. Go to Wickenburg, Casa Grande or Coolidge. Just remember, REAL ranch folk party a little differently. They're up and out before dawn, and in the sack (sleeping) by 8pm.

If you want to get your country groove on, but do NOT want to have to feign interest in the latest hilarious insemination mishap, the Valley proper has you covered. The past few years have seen the emergence of several new venues for those looking to scoot their boots, along with the demise of others. Here we present a roundup of some of the hottest of the kicker bars in the area. One thing is for sure in the Valley - when it comes to Western, there's something for nearly everybody, even if you don't own a hoof pick.

Hot Off The Grill Country

When trends ignite, club owners scramble to cash in, and the collection of clubs that spring up are often a mixed bag. Such is the case in downtown Scottsdale at the moment, where three new clubs are hoping to ride the current cow-person trend through to the end. They are Saddle Ranch Chophouse, Shotgun Betty's and Revolver. One of these places definitely has some charm.

Saddle Ranch (Scottsdale Rd between Fifth Avenue and Drinkwater) is the Western bar Disney would build if Disney still built bars. It's sort of like a double decker Cracker Barrel restaurant, but with booze and more expensive meat. Although the space is cavernous, the central mechanical bull ring doesn't leave much room for dancing, unless it's in the main thoroughfare to the bathrooms. There's a lot of staff running around talking to one another, but they seem to leave the patrons pretty much alone.

While the mechanical bull is a unique attraction in the area, it doesn't take long to figure out that it's not the "bull's" good side you have to get on, but the dude in the booth with his hand on his joystick, CONTROLLING the bull. Basic rule: Hottie girls stay on as the dude bumps and grinds them via his cyber-bovine proxy / too-drunk frat guys get spanked (not in a good way.) Though this may be a suitable ethos in many respects, it spoils the notion that chance or skill are really at play, and means that the bull thing gets boring real fast. If you DO decide to ride, however, remember to tip the joystick dude. Got yer back.

One final word about Saddle Ranch - I was referred to their publicist in L.A. for all comments, and the monitors throughout the place were playing Lady Gaga, Jay Z and Usher. Make of that what you will.

Shotgun Betty's, just down the street at Stetson and Wells Fargo, is a better bet. It's just as inauthentic (when did the country aesthetic and the 1990's Poison video one combine?) but a better place to hang your hat for a couple hours.

Just to get it out of the way, if you haven't heard, it's owned and operated by the same person that owns Skin Caberet, and is his take on the type of bar made famous in the movie Coyote Ugly, where the bar girls get on top of the bar and put on a show periodically. The girls employed seem to be between the ages of 21 and 22, and have a body fat percentage somewhere in the 12% - 15% range. They're dressed in daisy dukes, boots and cowboy hats, and the Western theme pretty much ends there, visually.

It's a small and semi-dark place once night falls, and the walls are lined with tall, cozy banquets. The dancers are there when you want some eye candy, but it's also possible to sit back, have fun with your friends and get pleasantly bombed without the typical Scottsdale meat market mentality taking over. Shotgun Betty's is fun and doesn't take itself too seriously. In that way, it actually does kind of embody the old country spirit.

Besides their nubility, the bar and cocktail staff also seem to actually care about the patrons. They are present enough to be there when you need them, and they pay as much attention to the women as the men. Score one for good, old-fashioned hospitality - a much welcome return to form for Old Town!

Three doors to the west on Stetson, a new club called Revolver has taken over the space once occupied by Six. Revolver describes itself as "western chic." Seems like the same old vibe, though, and you'd be damned before you find any decor from farther west than Chicago. Fortunately they kept the absolute best part of Club Six - the bathrooms. There may be a reason (besides the bathrooms) to go here, but not if you're looking for anything remotely cowboy or western.

Old Country

(Model: Anakaren Slazar)

The Rusty Spur (Main Street in old town) beats Handlebar J's (just north of Shea) by a couple of years, 1958 versus 1960, but surely there's room enough for both under the heading of "oldest western bar in town." Your experience at either would be just about what you would have had there thirty years ago. The wood is real, the live country music is real, and they are both locally owned and operated. They were ALWAYS places that attracted a large percentage of tourists versus locals, but at least at this point they're authentically OLD places that do so. In a town that does very little to preserve its real past in favor of pandering to winter visitors and college kids with the latest re-interpretation, their very survival all these years merits you stopping in at least occasionally.

The Rusty Spur, in particular, is ripe for a local revival! This Summer, after the tourists have gone and ASU is on hiatus, this is the place to be. No table is too far from the bar to yell for another round,

or too far from the stage to join in on a verse of "Cold, Cold Heart."

An honorable mention must at this point go to The Coach House Tavern, located on Indian School Road, at Goldwater. It's not particularly country/western (the only real nod to the genre being an old wagon wheel nailed over the entrance,) but it's another leftover from a city that once proclaimed itself "The West's Most Western Town." A determinedly un-pretentious hole-in-the-wall, the Coach House has been the neighborhood bar of choice for locals for fifty years and continues to go strong. A large patio was added not too long ago, which doubled its capacity, but the heart of the bar is still a small, dark and funky room with decades of residue in the cracks. It's easy to find patrons who have been coming for twenty years or more, no matter when you visit. With drink prices approaching half of what you would pay at some of the surrounding clubs, it's no wonder, either.

Cattle Baron (people who own people who own cows) Country

The Stockyards Restaurant (Washington, just west of 48^th Street) is another hold-over from the Valley's past that has retained much of it's original character and mission. Though difficult to imagine now, as recently as the early 1970's, there was an enormous cattle yard located between Van Buren and Washington at 48^th street. At one time it was the largest in the world, and old-time residents can attest that it smelled like it, too. Beginning in 1954, The Stockyards Restaurant sat on a small elevation usually just upwind (to the south.)

The Tovrea family which owned the meat packing company and the restaurant were local upper-crusters, and The Stockyards became the meeting place for the men (such were the times) who made Arizona happen. Backs were slapped, deals were sealed and pesky investigative reporters plotted against in the overstuffed leather booths. Though cleaner and much less stuffy since a 2005 renovation, it is just as quietly iconoclastic as ever, and the hand-carved mahogany bar is still a sight to behold.

The Stockyards Restaurant is the Durant's of the western crowd. It's just right for those nights when you got $200 bucks to blow and only a nice sippin' whiskey and a charred chunk of large quadruped will do. You know what I'm talkin about.

Alt Country

For men and women who dig men and women, respectively, there's a happening and locally famous bar at Camelback and 7^th Avenue in Phoenix called Charlie's. Long before Brokeback Mountain lifted the weathered canvas veil on same-sex kicker love, Charlie's was strumming that crowd's tune. Now celebrating its 25^th year, Charlie's remains the premier place in the Valley where couples can do the Texas two-step cheek-cheek, toe-to-toe, and scruffy beard to scruffy beard. It's a wild Western place, actually, renown as much for being fun as for being gay. LOTS of straight people go, too, because Charlie's knows how to have a good time, western style. Just leave your inhibitions at the door and nobody gets hurt, yuh hear?

Big Country

There is an entire class of country club which doesn't aim to be anybody's cozy watering hole - they want to attract people by the heard, and they do! Mostly off the beaten path, where lower real estate prices help make a basketball arena-sized bar more viable, clubs such as Graham Central Station, Whiskey River, Tom Ryans and Toby Keith's "I Love This Bar and Grill" load people in by the thousands. Whether you're line dancing, seeing a country band or just getting loaded, bring a posse - a BIG one. You'll need them to hold your seat when you hike to the bathroom!

We've focused on just a few interesting places, but by no means is this sampling of western night life exhaustive. In a city with the footprint of the greater Phoenix metro area, there are tons of out-of-the-way places and many of them attract a more or less countrified crowd. Find em and tell your friends. Stick them in the pocket of your Lee jeans and make em your own.

Valley Fever Sundays at Yucca Tap Room in Tempe

For JAVA Magazine May, 2010

Once a week, there's a place in Tempe where time takes a cigarette and country music lovers are transported to the smokey, whiskey soaked days of the early 1970's. Dana Armstrong, a third-generation Valley of the Sun girl, has done her level best to conjure up that bygone era for patrons of Yucca Tap Room at Southern Avenue and Mill.

For the past five years, Armstrong has hosted Valley Fever, Sunday nights at Yucca Tap. At the weekly gig and various special events throughout the year, fans can experience a more authentic version of the "Arizona country" Dana and many grew up with, albeit with much less nicotine.

"I wanted to recreate a kind of old Arizona feel...kind of like Mr. Lucky's" Says, Armstrong. Mr. Lucky's, which closed in 2004, was a long-time favorite of the Valley honky-tonk set. Although it spawned such pale imitations as big-box country-themed clubs Graham Central Station and Toby Keith's, Mr. Lucky's was there from the get go, and there was nothing ironic, kitschy or retro about it's country/western character.

"I wanted to rebuild that moment. I just brought the records I wanted to hear to the place I wanted to hear them," she explains. "I invited everybody I knew and hoped some would show up...I figured if they stayed that was just a bonus. I didn't want to force it on anybody - Whoever else appreciated it, that's who I wanted to be there."

Dana thinks the Yucca Tap Room was the perfect environment. "It looked right - it's been there for forty years."

The Yucca Tap Room is kind of easy to miss, but once you find it you'll understand the appeal. To say it's unassuming is an understatement. It looks very much as it has for forty years, just off the southwest corner of Southern and Mill, with a low, flat roof and peeling paint. Yucca still doesn't accept credit cards, either - yet another charming throwback to the past!

Once inside, though, the atmosphere is warm, and you can hear some of the best music in town. "After about three months [spinning records at Valley Fever], we decided to start adding [live] music...usually just one band every Sunday…"

The bands are mostly NOT cover bands, though. "Some of them are just straight honkey-tonk bands, like Junction Ten...they write their own songs, but they sound like they're from 1975, which is perfect for me. I can't really label it...we have some bands that come at it from a sort of folk angle, but they all have the same spirit. The bands don't stick to covering those songs, but they're definitely strongly influenced and inspired by those old songs."

Valley favorite Flathead is part of what Dana calls the "Valley Fever family" of bands. "Greg Swanholm [lead singer of Flathead] is like our biggest supporter...he was there from the beginning and still comes every Sunday," she says. "The thing about Flathead is they're so unique and hard to categorize...I don't know what to call their music, but it fits right in."

Armstrong has noticed the popular re-discovery of country/western culture of late, but draws a distinction between that and Valley Fever. "It may be a trend right now generally, but at Valley Fever it's the real deal." Instead of re-packaging and borrowing from the original version of the culture, "we're actually trying to re-cultivate and delve into it."

Why 1970's honkey tonk? "I have this thing where I just want to be living in a very specific era...it goes back to my childhood and my dad's taste in music...Waylon Jennings, George Jones, Mo Bandy…" She plays older stuff, too. "I'll play anything from the fifty's...Hank Snow, Hank Thompson...but my favorite is the late 60's to early 70's."

In addition to Sundays, Valley Fever typically hosts several day-long events throughout the year. "We have our annual all-day show called the Quarantine usually in March. Last year we had Waylon day, to celebrate his birthday, then we had HanksGiving, where six bands played all Hank Williams covers."

"It's still fun!"