The Rationalist  Jason McDonald  "God, it's only clothing!" Lam
says half-mockingly, sitting at his glass-topped desk in a small
office at the back of his all-white studio on West 26th Street,
where sewing machines are humming and patterns are being pinned
even though it's the Monday before Thanksgiving. Not that there
is any sign of trickle-down anxiety, either: The mood in the
studio seems decidedly calm, even peaceful. Then again, Lam is
about as undiva-like a designer as the species allows. Although
I have seen him act impatient or a bit irritated, he is as far
from a drama queen as one can be and still fret about whether a
particular blouse needs buttons on the cuff, if so how many
buttons, and should they be self-covered or left as they are.
Today, Lam is dressed in an approximation of the uniform he's
worn each time I've seen him (not counting a formal dinner
event): a T-shirt under a gray V-neck or crewneck and a
variation on the theme of jeans. He often wears sneakers—a pair
of subtly tricolored Conv