Growing up I’ve always believed that beauty has a language of its own. It can be felt, it can be seen through the tiniest details, and it does not mean anything which language you speak, as long as, your eyes can register what you’re looking at is beautiful - and it reminds you of something familiar, like old world glamour. That feeling of peeking into a world that no longer exists. 

My design philosophy, almost always, reflects reaching back into the lost crevices of time and history because there is just something so special, so elusive about what once was. 

This elusive old world aesthetic is what I’ve always chased while designing clothes. I’ve never been able to quantify or to evaluate exactly what and why and how but somehow, it feels like muscle memory; my hand flows in that direction and I pick that colour, that exact fabric that makes it glint like dreams, which falls effortlessly and gracefully. Perhaps, then, vintage beauty is an invisible, abstract mathematical equation that just adds up, simply when you look at it. 

When you design something or create something it speaks to the eyes of those who behold it and there is a silent crackling of understanding, ‘Yes, I see it. I see what you did there’ 

It’s a shared knowledge, a shared inside joke or a secret code that can only be known and understood when you truly see it, in a flash, in an instant. 

It's the art of seeing, and being seen, in the simplest, most profound way.