Before a piece becomes a piece

Nothing I make begins as a finished idea.

It usually starts with something small that stays with me, a color, a fragment, a memory, a piece of embroidery, something I saw years ago that never quite left.

Before I design, I spend time learning. The history, the folklore, the cultural meaning, the language of a technique. I want to understand where it comes from, what it meant, and what it still carries.

Then the conversation begins. I speak with the artisans, look closely at what they already make, and we start shaping something together. I’m always searching for what feels most special, while staying true to the heritage of the textile and the technique.

From there, the pieces slowly take form. I sketch, I draw, I rearrange. Silhouettes, color stories, the feeling of a collection. There are raw drawings, size specs, first fits, early samples. We go back and forth, refining, adjusting, staying close to the work until it feels right.

I stay in touch throughout, answering questions, thinking through details, always holding both sides in mind, the integrity of the handwork, and the life the piece will have once it leaves us.

Then it moves into styling. Not trends exactly, but a sense of time. How something feels now, how it will be worn, how it lives on a body.

The photoshoot is where it all comes together. The light, the mood, the space. It’s the moment the piece begins to breathe.

Naming matters too. It gives the piece a voice, a place to belong.

And then, the part I love most, letting it go. Releasing it into the world, connecting the work, and the women who made it, to someone new.

By the time you see it, it has already lived many lives.