“MODERN” is a term so routinely invoked in fashion-speak that it lost its meaning long ago. But without quite intending it, JNBY, a new loft like boutique in SoHo, has revitalized that concept, lending “modern” a near-prophetic ring.

The wares at this first United States outpost of the Chinese retail chain hint at a future in which fashion is the product of a youthful design collective. The brand, founded in 1994, was conceived by an unsung cadre of 12 students largely inspired by the club-wear of the late ’80s and ’90s. Today a design team still toils anonymously to turn out a line destined to be worn in churning urban centers like Shanghai, Tokyo and Paris, where JNBY has, or soon will have, retail outlets.

Based in Hangzhou, the company operates some 600 stores worldwide. But it entered Manhattan gingerly, opening a pop-up shop in SoHo less than a year ago. Its name, it turns out, is short for “Just Naturally Be Yourself.” As if New Yorkers needed coaxing.

On the rack that phrase translates to a utilitarian mode of dress aimed at a steadily homogenizing global market. But it’s unlikely that the shrunken leather jackets, duffle coats, leggings, pickled jeans and Grecian-draped frocks showcased here will be novel to the New York University students who appear to form a sizeable portion of the shop’s clientele.

Some may have a hard time ferreting out the standout pieces in what at first glance is a dim sum of shapeless, and soulless, gray, black, taupe and navy body casings suspended from fixtures that look like outsize swing sets. But on closer inspection, the loose-fitting clothes, in sizes 1 to 5 (3 is a medium), are audacious indeed, shifting shape, mood and proportion like an army of soft-skinned Transformers. Their mutability suggests a no-commitment approach to dressing that has parallels in contemporary home design; the clothes are the fashion equivalent of a cleverly constructed sectional that can be pushed, piled, tugged or folded into myriad shapes and configurations.

“Just play with it,” Alice, a cheerily accommodating manager, urged, handing me a black linen wrap, a grainy-textured variation on a dancer’s warm-up sweater ($215). Her lilting invitation, uttered like a mantra, ought to be stamped on the company’s hang tags.

With little else to occupy a storm-soaked Sunday afternoon, I obliged, flipping an attenuated cardigan upside down to turn it into a shrug, the strategically placed Y-shaped dart at its rear causing it to billow flatteringly. “See, you can push up the sleeves,” Alice said. I did and was impressed to see it mutate into a Gothic-looking wrap.