In my knitting and crochet collection, I work with vintage hand-knit and crochet blankets, bedspreads and tablecloths – pieces that have usually spent years folded away in cupboards, or forgotten on market stalls. They carry time in them: someone’s evenings on the sofa, someone’s grandmother’s hands, colours chosen decades ago. Instead of letting that work disappear, I bring it back into the everyday, onto the street, into the party.

Each piece is treated like a textile artefact. I carefully map out the motifs, borders and hand-worked details before making a single cut. I study how the flowers repeat, how the lace grows, how the edges were finished. Then I cut and reassemble them into long dresses, coats, capes and matching sets. The goal is always the same: preserve as much of the original maker’s labour as possible while giving the piece a completely new life.

The silhouettes are where the tension happens. I often push these soft, nostalgic textiles into strong, architectural shapes – bold shoulders, clean lines, elongated bodies. The contrast between structure and softness is very deliberate: it turns something traditionally “domestic” into something powerful, genderless and ready to be seen. The knit wraps around the body like armour, but one that still feels intimate and comforting.

Because every blanket is different, every garment is one-of-a-kind. I don’t erase the past; I highlight it. You might see a line where two lives of the textile meet, the hint of an old border now sitting at the hem, or a central motif placed right over the heart. These details are not flaws – they are the story.

This collection is my way of honouring the invisible makers who came before us, and proving that the pieces we already have, even the ones hiding at the back of a cupboard, hold the potential to become something extraordinary.