Feature -- by Mark Sproxton

Shae Barry likes the freedom of independent fashion design.

Standing behind a sewing bench covered with clothes awaiting alterations, Shae Barry knows it's one of those days. The portable phone is on the fritz, an European fabric broker screwed up on an order, and someone recently put a pellet through his shop's front window. Such is life for the local fashion designer and owner of Does it Come in Black?

"It's not as glamorous a life as you see on TV," the long-time designer explained. "(People) see what goes on on TV but don't understand that real life is different. It's not sewing two pieces of fabric together and putting a buckle on it. This is not the kind of business you can fudge your way through."

While most days flow smoothly for the veteran designer, today's events try one of the qualities Barry believes necessary for all designers -- patience. "If you're not patient, this isn't the job to be in," he said. "People skills are paramount, as is an ability to listen to people, not just hear what they say. That's the difference between a good and a bad garment." A thorough knowledge of color, fabrics, and math are also required.

Always interested in the arts -- taking private art lessons since he was six -- Barry never dreamed he would choose life as a designer. He entered the Alberta College of Art (ACA) as a scholarship student intending to pursue a commercial art career in graphic design. But after taking a course in textiles, it furthered his interest in clothing first developed by a grandmother who taught him to sew as a youngster.

"What really led me to do what I'm doing is it (art school) wasn't fulfilling. I wasn't feeling the excitement. One day I went down (to city hall) and registered Shae Barry Design and that's where it started." Specializing in custom design, he entered several local and international competitions, placing in each. "That was the kickoff point that established myself in the community."

At the same time he also apprenticed as a makeup artist with many clients who kept him busy and able to pay the bills. "The makeup work allowed me to do the things I wanted to do as a designer," he said. Today he relies on alterations and designing new garments for clientele with large disposable incomes to keep his expensive career operating. In addition to regularly buying thousands of dollars of fabric, he has also invested thousands in sewing machines and renting retail space. Even one of his irons cost more than $500.

Despite long hours and stretches where he's drawing patterns, cutting patterns, sewing garments and making alterations for weeks on end, Barry can't imagine doing anything else. "I like the creativity and the challenge," he explained. "I don't do this for the money. Being an independent designer is a rough way to go because the money isn't constant. I do this because it's like breathing, sleeping and eating. It just happens. I've tried to quit several times but can't."

Designers may also find work at clothing manufacturing companies or with theatre groups, but Barry likes the freedom of being able to work one-on-one with clients and create original clothing. His typical day consists of opening the store around 10:30 a.m., collecting phone or fax messages, dealing with fabric brokers or manufacturers, then meeting with clients who come in on their lunch hour. Those consultations could include taking measurements, determining what items of clothing are desired, what kind of function they're needed for, when it's needed and which colors will work best. After returning any outstanding calls, the hands-on work begins until the after-work crowd drops in for more consultations. Then the cutting and sewing begins again and may last until the wee hours of the morning.

"The creative part is about 60 per cent of my time," Barry said. "The other stuff is 40 per cent, and unfortunately that 40 per cent can feel like 80 per cent." Like many artists, designers also have to fight the battle of trying to make people understand why their work is worth as much as it is, he added. And there's the constant battle with the "Canadian identity crisis," where people are always looking for things in other countries even though their neighbors are equally as talented. "We're better known outside our country than we are in our own country," he said.

That hasn't deterred him from wanting to grow and grow. After struggling through the recession of the 1980s, he's finally seeing the city blossom. "I'm wanting to have a series of stores and to have my own line of clothing," Barry said, exercising the patience developed over years in the business. "But you have to watch you don't go to fast. You can outrun your skills and productivity."