NAU IS HEADQUARTERED in 6,000-square-foot, ground-floor offices near Portland's gentrifying Pearl District. It's a showcase space, filled with sustainable-design features like bamboo door frames. Nau swung a 50 percent reduction in rent by giving the landlord equity in the company and, essentially, a promise that it's going to pay off.

Inside, the rosy future doesn't seem inevitable. It's late September 2006, and in his open-space work area, Van Dyke is tied to his desk, making yet another "begging for bucks" phone call. The next day, he'll tell me, "I've lost more sleep over the last year and a half than I ever have in my life."

There's plenty to be excited about, though. Back in the company's design area, where the walls are covered with clippings of models and obscure inspirations like a wooden bathtub, Mark Galbraith—Nau's vice president of product design—is still jazzed by the reception he received last month in New York. He was there to preview Nau's spring 2007 lineup with fashion editors from publications like Esquire and Men's Vogue, which usually aren't interested in outdoor apparel. He left having heard raves and comparisons to Helmut Lang.

"What stands out now is design that's beautifully integrated," says the goateed Galbraith, holding up a rich, rust-colored fleece sweater with a smooth, faintly patterned face fabric. It's slick. "These days, bling is way more about understatement and a sophisticated approach. Take modern architecture. Or the iPod."

In creating Nau's clothing lineup—which consists of technical outerwear and sportswear—Galbraith,

Nau's designers use words like movement and blur to describe their stylish, enviro-friendly garments. One exec compares the company's in-store dressing rooms to "orgasmatrons."

along with Nau designers Peter Kallen and Lisa Street, used keywords like movement and blur to make comfortable and functional garments that work, whether they're worn at Starbucks or on Mount Rainier. Something as simple as a Nau rain shell looks great because of subtle touches, like the artfully executed cuffs that hug your wrists. A Nau winter jacket becomes unique thanks to an Edwardian-style, off-center row of decorative but sturdy buttons.

Galbraith insists that his sleek designs are outdoor couture and shouldn't be gummed up by any Nau logos. The prices are pretty standard for a higher-end company, ranging from $45 for a base-layer top to $248 for a jacket. But Galbraith believes any sticker shock will be forgotten when customers enter Nau's dressing rooms, which he likens to "orgasmatrons"—in his view, the clothing will be that pleasurable to try on.

This being Nau, the company's 120-piece spring line also had to meet strict environmental standards. The third-party textile makers that supply most outdoor-clothing companies with yarns and fabrics couldn't just tap into their existing inventories. Traditional nylon, polyester, and waterproof-breathable membranes are petroleum-based, and Nau wants only materials that come from renewable resources or don't consume "new oil." As a result, 27 of the 30 fabrics going into the company's spring line were developed specifically for Nau.

The downside? All this takes time to perfect, and with only four months left before the company launches, a couple of key fabric technologies are still lagging behind.

One such innovation is made using a combination of high-end, mostly recycled polyesters, which are available only from a few cutting-edge textile companies around the world. Nau is working with a Japanese manufacturer that regenerates its polyester yarns from industrial waste, plastic bottles, and worn-out government-worker uniforms. Problem is, nobody has ever used such material to make what Nau is after: a mostly recycled version of the three-layer jacket, which incorporates a shell, waterproof-breathable laminate, and lining.

"Such a jacket has to have a soft hand and a certain weight," says Galbraith. "It has to meet specifications for tear strength."

Over the past 16 months—twice the time usually spent creating a fabric—Galbraith and Nau's Japanese partner have been hammering out the jacket's kinks. One prototype was too crackly. Another ripped too easily.

Galbraith believes the jacket's biggest snags are behind it and that Nau's three-layer storm shell will go on sale this year. Unfortunately, it might not be available until the heat of summer.

Another laggard is the corn-fabric base layer. Past attempts to beautify the tricky but fast-wicking material, which is made by fermenting corn and then extruding fiber from a resulting polymer generically referred to as PLA, have failed. That's because PLA fibers often emerge from the factory in the wrong color—or with the cheesy sheen of a vinyl purse. Galbraith is determined to make the fabric as presentable as it is sustainable. But even after a year of work, he hasn't succeeded yet, and time is running out.

To get PLA garments in Nau's opening lineup, Galbraith will place a production order within the next few weeks. He and his team will do it without seeing a sample that meets their standards—which means taking a 4,000-yard leap of faith that most outdoor-clothing companies wouldn't risk. Then again, most outdoor-clothing companies are introducing sustainable fabrics into the market at a gradual pace. Nau has staked its reputation on planet-saving duds, and it's swinging for the fences.