Critical Shopper: Yigal Azrouël Opens Uptown

Mr. Azrouël had a run of queasy P.R. moments a few years ago, when he was linked to the breakup of Billy and Katie Lee Joel; designed a roundly mocked turban worn by André Leon Talley to the CFDA awards; and (in an unbecoming display of status anxiety) fired the high-profile publicist Kelly Cutrone after she seated Eliot Spitzer’s former escort, Ashley Dupré, in the front row of his show.

Since then, he has lain relatively low. There must be people out there buying armfuls of his droopy, drape-y, doggedly nonconformist clothes — else how could he have afforded his flagship’s recent move from the meatpacking district to one of the most prime corners of Madison Avenue? — but I’ve never encountered one.

When E!’s red-carpet interrogators thrust their fuzzy microphones into starlets’ faces, you rarely if ever hear them chirp “Yigal Azrouël” in response, even though he makes some lovely floor-sweeping gowns. Mention of his name, which I may not be pronouncing properly, draws blank stares and shrugs from even sophisticated acquaintances.

Intrigued by how a business thrives thus under the radar, I hopped aboard the uptown No. 6 during a recent lunch break, stopping first to get the clasp of an Art Nouveau necklace replaced ($4, not counting exorbitant transaction fee levied by a nearby A.T.M.) at the excellent Daniel Watch & Jewelry Repair on Lexington. One of the neighborhood’s many preppy wives was ahead of me, getting one of her diamond stud earrings adjusted.

She does not appear to be the designated client of Mr. Azrouël, a duskily handsome surfing enthusiast whose press materials make much of his Israeli and French-Moroccan heritage, evident in the fringed scarves ($400) on display in his dark but warm shop. Besides turbans, he makes knitted hats, one of which was being slouchily sported by a salesman named Willis, giving him the general mien of a Brown religious studies major back from junior year at a luxury kibbutz.

BUT who is the Yigal Azrouël woman?

I picture her as the kind who treats fashion Very Seriously and has wholly embraced the velvety creep of art vocabulary into its milieu. The boutique is “curated”; silhouettes are “sculptural”; and garments are “pieces.”

Many of Mr. Azrouël’s pieces are collages, their torn parts apparent in a way that is sort of playful and vaguely sinister at the same time. A shearling motorcycle jacket ($1,950) has zip-off leather sleeves, should you suddenly feel like airing out your armpits during a joy ride up the West Side Highway. An ombré fur vest made of Finnish raccoon ($2,550) seemed suited for a “Sesame Street” character with a secret BDSM fetish. A racer-backed, folkloric-patterned minidress conjured the German figure skater Katarina Witt on a collision course with a bottle of Absolut.

Though the last was marked a size small, which I am not, another salesclerk, Kate, generously suggested it might stretch to fit, and placed it along with other items in one of two dressing rooms at the back of the store. Neither had a mirror, forcing me to model her selections, some of which exposed large swaths of flesh, next to a gorgeous sylph with slightly flared nostrils and curtains of glossy brown hair.

“Has anyone told you you look like a young Ali MacGraw?” I inquired.

“Every day of my life,” she said wearily.

Coincidentally or not, Ms. MacGraw’s boho ski-lodge sensibility is reflected in much of Mr. Azroüel’s fall line, including a blanketlike Fair Isle sweater-coat ($950) and a creamy soft cable-knit sweater, a shrunken version of the L. L. Bean classic with a punkish jagged bottom hem.

I voiced to our impromptu quartet my long-held belief that moths are attracted to wool in direct proportion to its quality and price (in this case, $665). The sylph advised going to the Home Depot and having cedar custom-fit to one’s closet door. Willis was fitting her into a narrow-trouser pinstripe suit and a mustard-colored shirt.

“I like the mustard,” she said. “Do I need to get it altered?”

“Just a pinch,” Willis said. “Just a pinch.”

Kate the Great, meanwhile, had found me a yummy dimpled top with a flattering cowl neck, though she warned me I’d have to get a new pair of pants to make it work. Then we began a spirited wrestling match with a sweater that had a detachable hood that doubled as — what? A scrunchy neck warmer?

Try as we might, we couldn’t figure out where to place it. Which might be the challenge of Yigal Azrouël’s handlers as well.

Yigal Azrouël

1011 Madison Avenue, (212) 929-725; yigal-azrouel.com.

PROMISED LAND A designer who is perhaps best known for his Israeli

heritage has moved uptown from the meatpacking district, though the flagship of his diffusion line, Cut25, remains in SoHo.

MILK AND HONEY Staff members are sweet, helpful and sympathetic when it comes to puzzling out some

of Mr. Azrouël more demanding concoctions.

SHEKEL SHOCK Prices are what one would pay for modest artworks; one should factor in future special-cleaning costs since the designer favors temperamental fabrics, as in a leather-trimmed jersey dress, $795.

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