By Hal Rubenstein
(Based on the original article by Hal Rubenstein, Photographed by Fahnon Bennett)
In the autumn of 1991, amidst a landscape of uninspired menswear collections that seemed tailored for Wall Street bankers rather than fashion-forward individuals, a voice emerged, promising something different. As the Men’s Style Director at The New York Times at the time, I was weary of the homogenous designs. Then, a call came from John Bartlett, a new designer eager to present his debut menswear capsule. Intrigued by his sonorous and slightly seductive voice, I ventured downtown to his Greenwich Village apartment. What John (and after three decades, formality seems unnecessary) unveiled was a revelation: menswear that was genuinely compelling and innovative.
John Bartlett, a Harvard sociology graduate, found his passion for fashion in the vibrant streets of New York City. He honed his skills at the Fashion Institute of Technology, learning the crafts of sewing, sketching, and pattern making. Despite his formal training and apprenticeships with designers like Willi Smith, Ronaldus Shamask, and Bill Robinson, Bartlett’s Harvard background and strong self-awareness profoundly shaped his design philosophy. While not as overtly sensual as Versace or as casually alluring as Dolce & Gabbana, Bartlett’s designs possessed a unique and refreshing quality: they dared to awaken and indulge the American man’s often-suppressed desire for sartorial boldness. One only needs to glance at today’s TikTok feeds filled with confident, shirtless men showcasing their physiques—a bravado Bartlett’s early work subtly anticipated.
Bartlett’s collections were captivating because of their deceptive foundation in preppy aesthetics. On the rack, his clothes appeared conventional. However, upon wearing them and viewing oneself in a mirror, the subtle suggestiveness of his designs became apparent. His re-imagined proportions and preference for luxurious, tactile fabrics boosted the wearer’s confidence. Donning a John Bartlett piece felt like receiving encouragement from a trusted friend, granting men—even those typically reserved—permission to exude swagger. This talent earned him a remarkable industry achievement in 1997: simultaneous CFDA awards for Best Newcomer in Menswear and Best Menswear Designer.
As an openly gay fashion designer, John Bartlett was also at the forefront of exploring gender fluidity in clothing. His 1998 women’s line, “Butch/Fem,” blurred the lines between traditional menswear and womenswear without sacrificing femininity. Celebrities such as Janet Jackson, Jennifer Lopez, and Sarah Jessica Parker embraced his designs. Bartlett established his own retail stores, collaborated with major brands like Bon-Ton and Liz Claiborne, and garnered praise for his innovative take on the classic Hush Puppy loafer.
In recent years, Bartlett’s focus has shifted from overt sensuality to sustainability. He now prioritizes organic and recycled materials, avoids animal products, and founded the Tiny Tim Rescue Fund, a non-profit supporting independent animal shelters.
This restless pursuit of exploration led Bartlett to another significant chapter: education. In 2020, he became the head of Marist College’s esteemed fashion program. This role not only defied the cliché “those who can’t do, teach” but also provided Bartlett with a platform to share his extensive industry knowledge and learn from a generation driving change. Today’s youth approach style, beauty, and attraction with vastly different perspectives, often prioritizing values beyond fleeting trends.
From Runway to Lectern: A Conversation with John Bartlett
How does it feel to transition from designer to educator? Do you see reflections of yourself in your students?
“The fact that I’m teaching a course called Fashion and Social Justice signals a significant shift,” Bartlett notes. “When I studied sociology at Harvard, we considered race, but our focus was broader. Business was thriving, and we explored evolving attitudes toward sexuality and body image ideals. Today’s students are rejecting those paradigms. They champion body positivity, design for non-binary individuals, create clothing for plus-size women, and consider accessibility for the disabled. Sustainability and ethical sourcing are central to their design ethos. Social justice informs everything they do.”
What sparked this profound interest in design with a social conscience?
“Social media has played a major role. The Black Lives Matter movement had a widespread impact on all minority groups. This conversation isn’t confined to influencers; it’s widespread. Even Vogue has had to adapt. Our faculty is now collaboratively reviewing our curriculum to ensure inclusivity and global perspectives in fashion education.”
Fashion has often been viewed in isolation, but it’s inherently intertwined with broader cultural currents.
“My course begins in the mid-19th century, gaining momentum with the Suffragette movement. The connection intensifies in the 1960s with protest fashion, reflecting anti-war sentiments and reproductive rights, then the Black Panthers, Katherine Hamnett’s message tees, and Act Up’s ‘Silence=Death’ campaign during the AIDS pandemic. I personally connect with this struggle because, at their age, I was navigating life as an openly gay man.”
Was coming out challenging for you?
“Harvard was homophobic, which was common at the time. It became easier when I met other gay men my age. When I started at FIT, unsure if I’d pursue design or marketing, my focus was finding the right outfit for clubs like The Tunnel and The Palladium.”
What prompted your shift from sociology to fashion?
“I always loved clothing. My mother subscribed to Vogue, and I would spend hours studying it. Once I got my driver’s license, my first destination was The Salvation Army. Vintage clothing felt more distinctive, a powerful way for a gay man to express identity. Clothing always tells a story. Working for Ronaldus Shamask and Bill Robinson solidified my desire to immerse myself in fashion.”
Early in your career, in an industry with a significant gay presence, were you surprised by any hesitation towards your openness about being gay and its influence on your designs?
“Fortunately, things have evolved. Initially, when I presented more provocative collections, some gay buyers considered the clothes ‘too gay.’ Yet, showcasing a woman in a thong was unremarkable. Gianni Versace significantly shifted those boundaries. I don’t identify as fluid myself, but fashion certainly is now.”
You initiated another wave of change by embracing veganism and animal rights.
“Reading Alicia Silverstone’s The Kind Diet sparked an ‘aha’ moment, not due to the recipes, but her passion for animals and her condemnation of factory farming. This coincided with rescuing my dog, Tiny Tim, from the North Shore Animal League. Tiny Tim transformed my life.”
How so?
“My involvement with animal shelters deepened my understanding of their work and led me to the ‘Vegan Mafia,’ PETA, and The Humane Society. The fashion industry relies heavily on leather goods, a major revenue source. I no longer wanted to contribute to animal suffering through my designs. I remember raising this point at a CFDA board meeting, a very awkward moment. My fellow board members were dismissive.”
Yet, fur is now largely absent from runways. More designers and consumers are embracing alternatives. In food, we have the Impossible Burger. You were simply ahead of the curve.
“Todd Oldham and I were early adopters. He stopped using animal skins a decade before Stella McCartney. Now, the industry is developing plant-based leather alternatives that are both sustainable and high-performing. I’m inspired by companies prioritizing ethical production and minimizing their carbon footprint. And increasingly, consumers, like my students, are deeply concerned about sustainability.”
Your move to Marist in Poughkeepsie from Manhattan was a significant geographical shift. How has that been?
“I adore my house in Rhinebeck. I didn’t want to be completely isolated; that’s not quite me [laughs]. I wanted a rural feel but still needed neighbors, especially after John (Bartlett’s husband, John Esty, passed away from prostate cancer at 56) and spending the pandemic alone with my dogs. Isolation wasn’t ideal.”
Did John’s passing contribute to your desire for change and a new environment?
“Perhaps. I engaged in extensive bereavement work after he died. Unable to find a gay men’s bereavement group in New York City, I gathered other widowers, and we formed our own group. We continue to welcome new members. The Zen Center for Contemplative Care was also incredibly helpful. And I joined a 12-step program and have found sobriety and stability. It’s been a five-year journey.”
Are you open to new relationships?
“Yes, I am. I’ve dated. I cherish time with friends. And recently, I met Jade Barbee, a wonderful man from Vermont who is a fantastic vegan cook. We’re now boyfriends.”
Do you still follow current fashion trends?
“I recently reviewed New York Fashion Week for my students. I appreciate the use of sheer fabrics and transparency, a revival of 90s trends I’ve always loved. I admire LaQuan Smith’s sexy and impeccably crafted designs and Peter Do’s innovative approach to minimalism.”
Do you ever feel the urge to design again?
“I’ve started working on accessories. I love fitted vests, military shirts, and boxer shorts. I’m exploring production options. I’m also collaborating with Unshattered.org, a group of women in Hopewell Junction overcoming addiction by creating beautiful sustainable handbags. And with Made X Hudson, a small manufacturer aiming to create jobs in the Hudson Valley. I’m making quilts from fabric scraps from my past collections and envision small runs or pop-up shops to raise funds for trans youth shelters and animal organizations.”
John, you seem genuinely content here.
“I sometimes miss the energy of New York City, the spontaneous encounters. I wish my students would spend less time on social media and more time exploring stores, touching fabrics, and examining garment construction. But I see this chapter as my next career. Marist College is exceptional because of its commitment to a well-rounded liberal arts education alongside fashion. I enjoy exploring towns like Woodstock and Catskill. I love returning home to cook dinner and walk my Bernese Mountain Dog. Many people have relocated here and started anew, like me. It’s a truly delightful way of life.”
