BLK DNM in Manhattan - NYTimes.com PICKED up the new issue of Industrie the other day. Sozzani on the cover. Inside, a bunch of interviews with hair and makeup artists - Guido's in there, Lucia Pieroni, too. Models are nice to look at, and designers get all the shine, but the substrata is arriving. You see it in Industrie, with its obsession on behind-the-scenes mountain-movers. You see it in the photos of the various Fashion Weeks; the clothes look great and the models looks alluringly bored, but who are all those people doing the hard work ensuring the beauty goes off on schedule? For the most part, they dress alike: utilitarian, strong, indifferent to trend. The clothes they're fitting on people, or building looks around - those aren't for them. They're anti-peacock, purposefully invisible, and as a result, they transcend. They probably shop at BLK DNM, the latest endeavor by Johan Lindeberg, who, after leaving his signature line J. Lindeberg a few years ago, spent some time giving Justin Timberlake his own personal Ed Hardy at William Rast. Predictably, that didn't last, and before long he introduced BLK DNM, which is in essence an aggressively priced Uniqlo or Gap for the upper echelon of the invisible. The principles, such as they are, are straightforward: slim cut, mild indulgence, no frills, timeless. Stated right on the Web site: "BLK DNM does not conform to fashion seasons. New items are launched constantly. From month to month, it's really the small details that change, to keep the line even more of-the-moment. Now, that means pants pleated, lapels peak and almost everything completely androgynous. Also, mostly black and gray and white. Fashion Week, who needs it? Grab one of each item in the store (there aren't that many, when it comes down to it) and you won't have to shop again for years. They even help you out with the style names - Pant 15, Blazer 9 - all the simpler for a time when we will order clothes by Scantron. Collect them all! Or at least, collect wisely. The denim was handsome and sturdy, though available in only two cuts: Jean 5 ($190), pretty skinny; and Jean 9 ($170), only a little skinny. The beat-up denim shirt ($150) in gray or black is nearly perfect, as stiff as if it had been dropped in the deep fryer for a few seconds, but scraped as if it were rescued from a Goodwill in Tulsa. Were you inclined to buy a sheer white T-shirt that could double as maternity wear and Alexander Wang was sold out, this could be your second stop. Heavy draping abounded; a light-gray cashmere sweater ($350) had some version of a scoop neck for men, in addition to a loose hang. Even the knit cap on top of the lanky male modelesque salesclerk had a slouch to it. At one point, he was kneeling on the wood floor, lighting candles and spilling some of the wax to create a sort of improvised installation art in front of a large display case containing a dress form swaddled in a motorcycle jacket. In that same way, some pieces felt as if they were for show, too. A black tuxedo jacket ($550) looked both imposing and casual, but one touch of its polyester and rayon blend left any pretension to authority by the wayside. The pleated striped pants also felt cheap. To be fair, this is not a luxury line; it prizes minimalism, restraint and inner attitude. And yet the most thrilling pieces were, hands down, the most expensive: a series of distressed-leather motorcycle jackets. Leather Jacket 5, for those playing at home, in black ($700), camel ($1,495) and time-warping cognac ($1,990), is an item that draws outrageous attention to itself, and earns it. It was matched only by a stunning dirty-white sleeveless moto-vest ($1.695). When I was fingering it, no one stopped me to let me know it was for women. Androgyny, again. When I asked for a different size in a heavy wool, burgundy-flecked sweater ($380) that looked like muesli, the clerk brought me the right size, in the wrong gender, deducible only after careful inspection in the makeshift dressing room, consisting of slabs of plywood thrown together at the back of the store, under the lofted office space, with the back wall missing. IF I'd gone a couple of days prior, I might have bumped into Lindsay Lohan, in Shirt 2, at the opening party for the store's installation by the serial libertine Olivier Zahm and his art-core journal Purple Fashion. Tote bags and T-shirts to celebrate the collaboration were still available. Still, there were hints of the good life extant: an espresso machine at the front of the store, a few beaten-in couches to sink into, a poster that read "Tanga Moreau in Jeans 8" with Ms. Moreau spread-eagle against a wall as if about to be frisked. Hard not to recommend Jeans 8. At one point, as I left the dressing room, there was Johan himself, walking through the store, from the office side to the side with the hidden-away room with the shiny silver refrigerator. His signature beard was large and mussed and mealy-looking. Fashion Week was happening elsewhere, but that was for people who need to play dress-up. 237 Lafayette Street, (212) 966-6258; blkdnm.com. BLACK BUSINESS The line emphasizes basics for the behind-the-scenes minimalist. Hardly anything here calls attention to itself, which is ideal when it's your job to make other people look great with no damage done to your own ego. ONE FOR ALL It doesn't matter if it's black (or gray or white), if it's male or female - androgyny and anonymity are central here. FIGHT THE POWER Other stores sell fashion, but BLK DNM essentially rejects it outright while still catering to a crowd that cares about how they appear. It's slick anti-strategy for a limited clientele.