Dear friends,
Over the years, many of you have written to ask—sometimes passionately—why I no longer make the menswear you remember: the jacquard cotton shirts, knits, sueded pieces, and all the deeply crafted garments that defined my earlier work. I understand the question, and I feel it too. Those pieces mattered to me as much as they did to you.
So I wanted to explain, fully and honestly, why I can’t do what I once did.
When my financial partner pulled out and I closed my clothing business, much of the specialized equipment I relied on in Japan was dismantled or repurposed soon after. Many of the mills had built custom loom setups, weave structures, and production workflows specifically for my work. Once the line ended, those capabilities disappeared. Even if I wanted to remake those garments today, many of the techniques quite literally no longer exist.
I’ve also changed structurally. I no longer have a fashion company or a staff. Today it’s just me and Adrian. Running a full apparel operation—fabric development, sampling, grading, sizing, inventory, shipping, returns, seasons—simply isn’t possible for us.
That said, I want you to know this: I do still dream up new ventures—constantly. Sometimes nightly. Most recently, I found myself imagining throws made with one of my Japanese weavers: buying the fabric, cutting and finishing them myself, something intimate and manageable. But reality always intervenes.
For example, I could realistically place orders only every two or three years—similar to how I handle my socks—because it takes that long to sell through inventory. And business has to work for both sides. My suppliers need consistent volume to survive. In the case of my sock manufacturer, he decided—after stopping twice—that his employees genuinely loved making my socks, and so he was willing to continue. Even then, I buy the yarn myself and warehouse all the inventory. The only reason that model works at all is because socks have no sizes, no seasons, and no fit issues.
That’s why throws briefly seemed promising. But even there, success would require marketing—significantly expanding my reach to move product faster. And here’s the honest truth: marketing is the part of the business I always disliked the most. That tension—between creative joy and promotional effort—makes many of these ideas not worth pursuing for me at this stage of my life.
This brings me to Printify.
The Printify model works logistically. I can place my designs on their blanks, and they handle production, inventory, fulfillment, and shipping. That’s why I can still put new work into the world without rebuilding a company from scratch.
But there are real limitations. I have no control over fit, construction, or most aspects of quality. I’ve spent a great deal of money sampling dozens and dozens of products to see which ones are acceptable by my standards. A few are. Most are not. And now, with tariffs increasing costs and many higher-quality blanks being discontinued, even that small pool is shrinking.
And yes—I hate making polyester garments. I always have. Unfortunately, digital printing still works best on synthetic fibers, which is why cotton is largely unavailable in this model. Even when the business structure fits my limited resources, the materials often don’t fit my aesthetic.
So when you see something new from me today, please understand: it represents a careful negotiation between what I can do, what I enjoy doing, what I can manage without staff, and what allows me to stay creatively active without rebuilding the machinery—literal and figurative—of a fashion house.
I remain deeply grateful that so many of you still care enough to ask, to remember, and to collect the work I made decades ago. That work mattered. It still does. And knowing it continues to be worn, cherished, and even hunted for is incredibly meaningful to me.
Warmly,
Jhane
P.S.
For those of you searching for earlier pieces, many of my original menswear designs—shirts, knits, jackets—surface from time to time on eBay, often from longtime collectors.
18 comments
I was watching the Sally Jesse Raphael show (why I don’t know) one day, and the topic was men’s designer clothing. Two models walked out wearing Jhane Barnes suits. The suits were stunning and flowed like I prefer my clothes to fit. I was hooked, even obsessed. Living in Alabama pre-internet made it quite difficult to find the Jhane Barnes label. I made quarterly visits to Saks 5th in New Orleans, and mentioned the suits to my shopper. Incredibly, your marketing rep was there that day, and did such an incredible job telling your story, that I basically worked the next 5+ years solely to buy your label (I was still in college and later newly married). I received more compliments on your clothing than anything I’ve worn before or since. This period was from 1990 until you closed. I still have numerous pieces, still get compliments every time I wear them, and am absolutely crushed when an item becomes too threadbare or the dry cleaners makes an unfixable mistake (black shirt covered in pleats that the cleaners completely ironed out!) that I have to discard it. As a young man, I felt empowered every time I wore your clothes, and that confidence improved my life. Clothes really do make the man…if they have a Jhane Barnes label! Hope someone picks up your torch one day.
As a collector of your work for decades, I was sad when the menswear business closed. But I am thankful for the years of wonderful designs, and excited that you have found new avenues to explore. A few years ago, I decided that I really no longer needed 1,000 shirts…along with countless ties, pants, sweaters and outerwear. My focus would be on items woven or printed in Japan…along with some favorites I just couldn’t part with. So, after selling many items through an eBay seller, I opened my own eBay shop. I have had many repeat buyers, so I know there are some new collectors out there. Thank you, Jhane, for your inspirational creativity.
Over time, my wife purchased 4 shirts in the 1990s as gifts for me, but after the fourth they disappeared from clothing store racks in L.A. Thirty years later those shirts are like new, and I get compliments on them all the time.
Recently, I checked eBay and was amazed to see there was a thriving market in Jhane Barnes shirts – both new and used (I bought seven)! More compliments, and even more when people realize the patterns are woven into the fabric, and the seams are perfectly aligned with the pattern.
Each design is one of a kind, and though I’m disappointed you’re unable to express your creativity in men’s clothing, I truly believe your shirts are collectors’ items – ones which will only appreciate in value. Best of luck in your future endeavors.
I have collected your shirts and sweaters for 25 years . My husband adores them and we both treasure your incredible fiber inventions.. the are not garments, they are artwork in 3D. I would suggest that you investigate the ROLAND 3d digital printers , then your would would still be textured but could be framed works of art as they should be…
Thanks for the update, I’m sorry it’s so challenging. May you find collaborators that help you realize future designs.
To add my own story, shortly after the 1984 L.A. Olympics ended, I was walking through J.W. Robinson’s department store and the textures of an outfit on a mannequin stopped me dead in my tracks. I had just received my severance pay, so I splurged on the pants, blouson, and shirt. Years later I was in another store and saw another great shirt and “Wait… I remember that label!”, then I was hooked. We met at the Walnut Creek men’s store opening (Barrons?). I have about 50 of your incomparable shirts and several other garments. This Christmas Santa discovered the treasure trove of used Jhane Barnes shirts on eBay and I received more. “They give delight, and hurt not” … “Sometimes there’s so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can’t take it, and my heart is just going to cave in.”
I intermittently blog about your art at www.skierpage.com/blog/tag/jhane-barnes/ From the bottom of my heart, thank you!