Doni Nahmias

By Julien C. Levy
Photos by David Katzinger

Twenty-eight-year-old American fashion designer Doni Nahmias works hard on a laid-back aesthetic.

Speaking to us from his SoCal home, still jet-lagged from a “productive” spin around Europe, Nahmias cites skateboard, surf and sports apparel’s influence on his brand’s “California grunge” designs. Nineties chic, hip-hop swag—and maybe most essentially, a coastal Southern California aura—echo in his billowy silhouettes. It’s couture to cool out in; informal luxury.

But like the proverbial duck floating on a lake, both Nahmias’ and his eponymous brand’s mellow vibes bely a frenzy of hard work.

Neither grinding nor chilling on its own makes as much of an impression as the two working in harmony—that’s a lesson the self-taught Nahmias had to learn the hard way.

Beginning with little more than taste, intuition and ambition, Nahmias built a brand from nothing, refining designs while hustling side gigs and commuting to LA for trunk shows. “There were definitely a lot of moments of wanting to give up and move back home,” Nahmias recalls. Designer Mike Amiri recognized the young buck’s potential and took Nahmias under his wing, pulling back the 1,000-thread-count pima cotton curtain on how a designer brand functions. “I think he saw a bit of himself in me—my hunger and drive,” Nahmias says.

Amiri’s first directive as his mentor? Take it easy. “He kinda told me, ‘Pause what you’re doing. Come be in the studio and soak in everything you can.’”

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SoCal’s sun-drenched ambiance is the well from which Nahmias most frequently draws inspiration. “Random people on the street that I see [are] my own personal style icons,” he says. Consider the dazzling corner of California where Nahmias came up and that makes sense.

“Summerland” isn’t just Nahmias’ hometown, it’s a mantra, a quality, a vibe splashed across his apparel. It’s a presence Nahmias insists a lot of brands have chased but not captured: “They’re trying to do this surf/skate story but maybe they’ve never surfed or skated in their life.” Meanwhile, the globe-hopping Nahmias claims to be able to land a kickflip. “I like ollieing stairs,” he says.

And it would seem that his California soul is a key ingredient in the brand’s secret sauce.

Labels bearing the Nahmias name can now be found in high-end retailers worldwide. He’s collaborated with Grammy-winning producers and partnered with global brands. A-List celebrities rock his wares.

It’s a far cry from relaxing on the beach or bobbing between swells. “The past few seasons I didn’t have as many eyes on me,” he says. “Now, going into these seasons, we have editors from Vogue, GQ, Esquire [watching].” Still, he need not look further than his own roots to steady himself. “I guess that California vibe, it’s always easy, laid-back, ‘Everything’s gonna be OK.’ Having that mentality along with the strong work ethic has worked out.”

Like clothing, for Nahmias, tattoos are a way of externalizing a person’s essence. “You put [tattoos] on your body for people to see,” he explains. “Realistically, even if they are for yourself, people are looking at them.” In this spirit, he may not design garments specifically to show tattoos, but he does consider how sleeves ride a tattooed arm and knows that a neckline is just as likely to frame ink as a piece of jewelry.

Whereas visible tattoos are new to Paris catwalks, Nahmias grew up admiring the tatted-up bodies on Santa Barbara beaches and basketball courts, getting his first tattoo at 14. “My mom killed me,” he chuckles.

Now his body is peppered with black-and-gray pieces reflecting his journey: forearm wrapped by a tailor’s measuring tape, fingers decked out with the phrase “kick rocks”—which is also emblazoned on his apparel, along with “Miracle,” a word Nahmias wears on his neck. Reminiscent of one of his stylistic polestars, late rapper Tupac Shakur, whose body art exemplified his quintessentially West Coast gangsta swagger, Nahmias’ stomach sports a gothic rocker of his own last name above a bold, black “805”—Santa Barbara’s area code.

Getting tattooed? Yet another arena in which Nahmias’ dual nature exerts itself. “My tattoo artists and barbers hate me,” he says. “I’m always tweakin’ around.” It’s not the pain that makes him uncomfortable, he insists, but the stasis. He wants to get his whole back done but doesn’t know how he can stop moving for long enough.

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The past few years have been a whirlwind for the not-yet-30-year-old couturier. “Being able to bring my upbringing and bring California to Paris on a luxury level is super special,” he says. “To bring a piece of me that’s authentic and intimate and share it with the world, and especially in Europe, and people are connecting with it?” The reflection on how far he’s come almost has him at a loss. But then, in his chilled-out Southern California style, he gathers himself and says: “It’s cool.”