What challenges have you faced as an emerging designer, and how have they shaped your approach to the industry?

The challenge is not simply to be seen, but to be understood — especially when your vision is emotional, conceptual, and culturally specific. My biggest struggle has been with postponer syndrome and learning to process the psychological complexity of the fashion industry.
I create for those who recognize themselves in the story. Each creation is a deeply personal dialogue for me. It’s important to treat fashion not as product delivery, but as emotional authorship — and to move with clarity.

If you could collaborate with any artist, brand, or creative discipline outside of fashion, who would it be — and what would you create together?

I would love to collaborate with John Galliano. I truly honor his way of developing ideas — the depth of his vision, the emotional intelligence and thoughtfulness behind each garment, and his ability to build entire worlds through silhouette and texture. His modélisme fantasies, his passion for the smallest details, and his bold, vivid yet sophisticated approach resonate deeply with me. His work is always poetic, intentional, and artisanal. I imagine we could create something emotionally rich and visually unforgettable — a collection where every piece feels like a relic from a dream.
Outside of fashion, I’m also deeply drawn to ceramics — its fragility and resilience, its plasticity and permanence captivate me. There’s something sacred in shaping something that holds memory. I also have a growing fascination with jewelry design, especially working with raw brass — it feels elemental, almost ritualistic.

Your silhouettes speak in a certain dialect. What emotions or tensions are stitched into them?

They carry quiet emotions — things felt but not always said: remembrance, longing, tenderness. For me, silhouettes are not just about form, but about how memory takes shape. My silhouettes are shaped by nostalgia: the quiet intimacy of childhood, the presence of someone who is no longer here, the beauty of small, ordinary moments. They carry that emotional residue. They exist somewhere between the personal and the symbolic.
There’s a natural tension in my work: between delicacy and structure, between what we reveal and what we protect. Grief sits next to beauty. Modesty touches seduction. Each piece lives in that in-between space — fragility and strength, presence and absence. I think that’s where the soul of the garment is.