Wellington — the studio
The idea was good — but halfway through, it didn't come out the way it was supposed to. I still wore it anyway.
Fashion and clothing had always been a big part of my life — there was always a sewing machine within arm's reach. My mum used to run her own label, gave it a go in the UK, then brought it back to New Zealand, slowed down and kept production local. Growing up around that probably shaped how I think about making things.
Later on, when I started getting into fashion more myself, I'd find myself picturing an outfit — a silhouette, a specific shape — and then spend hours searching through clothing and vintage stores trying to find it. It usually ended in a "close enough" moment: spending too much money and time on something that wasn't quite right, then going back to looking again a few months later. It felt like I was wearing someone else's vision, not my own.
I like to be able to feel the quality of things with my hands — heavy leather, raw selvedge denim, steel, that sort of stuff. I wanted clothing that felt like it was made to last a lifetime. All this fast fashion, cheap material, cheap labour stuff never sat with me.
I graduated high school in 2020 — the first year of COVID, when everything was online and it didn't really matter whether you showed up or not. I didn't like who that made me. So I picked something to hold myself accountable to: learning Japanese, on my own, in my bedroom.
I got so deep into it that my parents sat me down. They asked why they never saw me anymore, what I was doing in my room, why I was doing this to myself. I'd never really been vulnerable in front of them before — but I'd also never felt that strongly about anything, and I ended up breaking down trying to explain it. After that, they let me keep going. A year and a half later, I passed N1 with a near-perfect score.
That same drive is how I approach making clothes. If I can't find what I'm picturing, I make it myself — properly, with materials and construction that earn the word "lifetime." That's the only way I know how to do this.
If I can't find what I'm picturing, I make it myself.
Indigo
Black
Selvedge denim is woven on narrow shuttle looms — the same looms Japan has used for decades. The tightly woven edge (the selvedge) runs along the outseam at the hem. When you roll the cuff, you see it. That's the mark.
At 14oz, this is a heavy fabric. It drapes with authority, fades slowly and beautifully with wear, and builds a character that no machine-washed approximation can replicate. I source it directly. There is no substitute.
Made by hand in Wellington, New Zealand