Tailor's dummy wrapped in pink satin ribbon

Between Body and Cloth

What could you do if your body belonged to you?

Clothing was always my love language to myself.[

Until it wasn’t.

Though never a particularly confident person, I was excited by fashion when I was young. I loved experimenting with clothes, but was never especially interested in what was in vogue. I enjoyed discovering my own style.

Over the years, something changed. It became increasingly difficult to be bothered to buy clothes at all. I hated the way I looked. My body. My skin. My everything. I was tired. Getting dressed became a chore..

Then I had a revelation.

The way I saw myself was not my own view. It had been shaped through the eyes of others.

I realised I had never really been in control of how I viewed my own body.

That thought led me to look beyond myself. Clothing has rarely been neutral. Throughout history it has signalled status, gender, belief and belonging. Sometimes it has celebrated identity; more often it has limited it. A cursory glance at fashion history shows that through design, religion, and law, freedom to become all we could has been purposely limited.

The methods may have changed, but I sometimes wonder whether the pressures have simply become more subtle.

We’re asked to tell one brand what size we wear in another so that it can decide which of its clothes might fit us. I’ve always found that strangely revealing. If measurements are simply measurements, why has finding the right size become such a complicated exercise?

We’ve all seen it: women walking barefoot because their shoes have become unbearable. Tugging at skirts, adjusting dresses, choosing what they can do because of what they’re wearing rather than the other way around.

I realised I didn’t want to spend my energy negotiating with my clothes.

I wanted a wardrobe that gave me the freedom to express who I am today. Clothing that would adapt to the changes my body goes through over time instead of judging them. Clothing that would quietly support my life rather than demand my attention.

I wanted to create pieces that gave me the freedom to think about everything else.

My mind was rebelling.

So the rest of me joined it.

This way of thinking has found its way into my work on Wild Lea, and I look forward to exploring it further through future collections.

Worn Well

Clothing should never ask us to earn the right to wear it.

When we stop negotiating with what we wear, we make room for everything else: our work, our relationships, our creativity, and the lives we want to lead. At its best, clothing quietly supports the person wearing it, leaving us free to become more fully ourselves.