EARL JEAN—Couture Denim

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Like many births, that of Earl Jean involved a certain degree of discomfort around the waist.

“Every time I sat down in my jeans, I couldn’t breathe,” recalls Suzanne Freiwald, the company’s co-founder and head designer.

Freiwald’s immediate answer was to buy jeans and redesign them herself to fit her own tastes and body. Things came to a head, however, when her collection of customized, vintage and irreplaceable jeans was stolen from a laundromat.

That’s where husband Ben Freiwald, now chief executive of Earl Jean, came in. That Suzanne had a flair for fashion was no mystery to him. “She was working as a stylist for different magazines and I used to tell her, ‘You’re renting what you could sell.'” So in 1995 the Freiwalds founded Earl Jean out of their home in the Hollywood Hills.

The company name was decided on because it is somewhat suggestive of Suzanne’s background. “The name Earl is kind of Southern, kind of ‘rednecky,’ but it also has royal connotations,” says Ben, “just like Suzanne a Southern, couture girl.”

Since its humble beginning, when the two principals worked out of their garage, Earl Jean has grown to a company with $17 million in 1999 revenues ($30 million projected for this year), 50 employees and overseas offices. The unusual cut developed by Earl Jean has taken the fashion industry by storm, and is now sold in such high-end retail chains as Barneys New York and Fred Segal.

The company’s core business is based on a jeans design that runs contrary to a decade and a half of denim convention. All of it is based on Suzanne’s own experience with other jeans, which “didn’t fit right at all,” she explains. “They were built for the Midwestern girl, and the jeans-makers were all too big and unwieldy to notice.”

A new cut

What she was having trouble fitting into is what they call “the cut,” in garment parlance. The cut that she and every jeans-wearing woman in America was donning up until 1997 was tight around the waist, loose in the thighs and shorter in length than she believed it should be.

Her pattern lowered the waistline, tightened the thigh and elongated the leg. In short, it’s “crazy slim and long in the extreme,” says the 35-year-old designer. She also did away with the ubiquitous brand-name patch usually found on the back pocket, or somewhere thereabouts. “I just thought they were tacky and felt most girls did, too,” she explains.

This “low-rise, dark denim boot-cut jean” sans label rang the bell at every trend level, the pair claims. When she called Barneys in Los Angeles, all it took was a phone description to obtain an appointment with the buyer. By 1996, Earl Jean was shipping out to the “hippest of the hip” stores in New York, Los Angeles and Miami.

Not everyone had the right body for the tight fit, however. This limited the garment’s target market, but also established a certain exclusivity that helped generate press coverage. Word of mouth, meanwhile, grew out of the fact the patch had been removed. “Since there was no label, women had to ask what the brand was,” Suzanne says.

Ben says that by 1997, the company was enjoying a “tiny, fickle” distribution in couture-style boutiques that had him worrying about long-term prospects. It would have been a perfect time for another manufacturer to “knock off” the design and do away with Earl through a stronger capital flow and wider distribution channel.

Finally, Ralph Lauren jumped into the market. Suzanne says Lauren tried to correct what it felt were flaws in the Earl pattern: It tightened up the waist anew, and loosened the thighs. “They could have finished us off, but the jean didn’t sell,” Suzanne says.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before the market started catching up. J. Crew and The Gap were among those that began to get it right. Two things happened to keep Earl Jean afloat, however.

The first was an effort to educate boutique owners. Such retailers usually sell what they have and wait until the next season to reorder. If they sell out of a certain size, they won’t get any more jeans of that size for months. Earl started calling these boutiques and asking which sizes they were missing, and convincing them to reorder those sizes.

The second event was a breakthrough in Japan, where retailers discovered Earl Jean in 1998. That meant the company could continue growing without taking on a business partner or going into debt, because Japanese retailers pay cash upon delivery and sometimes up front.

The result: Earl’s revenues exploded from $1.7 million in 1997 to $12 million in ’98.

An international presence

The company’s U.S. distribution has now extended into the heart of middle America, while Europe accounts for between 5 and 10 percent of the business. Meanwhile, Ben claims to be receiving e-mails from “countries I didn’t even know were on the map.”

Having moved into a renovated Chinatown warehouse (he designed the unique interior), the company has grown to the point where warehousing is now handled at a separate downtown location, and another move may soon be necessary. While tight jeans for supermodel bodies remains the core business, Suzanne puts out a seasonal line that includes denim jackets, western shirts, and skirts that are variations on the Earl esthetic.

“It’s cutting-edge, contemporary designer denim,” said Mark Goldstein, owner of Madison, a women’s wear boutique with a location on Robertson Boulevard and another readying to open in Malibu. “It’s great. It’s got a real specific fit, and that’s what girls in L.A. are looking for.”

Meanwhile, Earl’s first company-owned store on is in the works at a location on Larchmont Avenue, but not with an eye to any serious retail activity. “It’s not about commerce,” Ben explains. “It’s to showcase our label and provide retailers, in particular the Japanese, with a marketing strategy.”

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