I can only imag­ine that Issey Miyake might bris­tle end­less­ly unto his death with this asso­ci­a­tion that will nev­er be for­got­ten, of a rich man so com­plete­ly and utter­ly lack­ing in per­son­al style that he demand one of the finest crafts­men in cloth­ing make for him a shape­less fisherman’s sweater, bear­ing no resem­blance to the craft for which he was hired. Read the entire piece at the New York Times.