A Quiet Rebellion

A designer’s journey through craft, club culture, New York, back to reinvention and the book

Early Sparks

Fashion has shaped my life for as long as I can remember. My earliest memories are of choosing Parisian pieces in a small boutique my mother visited often. She had an account there, so each season I was allowed to select my own clothes. I noticed the cut, the quality and the quiet confidence of garments made with care. By 14, I was making my own school uniform and reworking vintage finds on a domestic sewing machine. If I wanted something individual, I had to create it myself.

In my hometown I studied under Jo Tyrer, who had famously taught Ossie Clarke. She recognised something in me and encouraged me to apply for a postgraduate course at Central Saint Martins after completing a three-year course at my local college. That encouragement changed the trajectory of my life.

London in the early 80s opened a world that felt completely aligned with who I was becoming. The city was a hotbed of creativity, with fashion, film, music and club culture each feeding the other. The atmosphere at CSM felt electric. Many of the people around me would go on to shape the industry in ways none of us could have predicted, but at the time we were simply young creatives taking in everything London had to offer.

Industry’s Realities

After graduating I worked in what is now known as fast fashion. In the 80s it was one of the few sectors of the industry that reliably paid. The experience was invaluable and clarified everything I did not want. The speed was frantic and the quality secondary. The labour practices and the wasteful nature of the work were completely at odds with the craft-based reasons that drew me to fashion in the first place. It showed me exactly how the commercial system operated and convinced me that I needed to follow my own path.

I opened a studio on Brick Lane and developed a clubwear label that grew quickly. I designed every piece, sourced British fabrics and produced everything locally. The brand sold across the UK and internationally, reaching Paris, Spain, Germany, Japan, New York, Los Angeles and Australia. I opened two retail stores and supplied independent boutiques that understood the aesthetic and attitude behind the work.

It was exhilarating. It taught me how to build a business from scratch. I experimented constantly with British knitted fabrics, deadstock and unconventional materials such as recycled steel and latex. This was long before sustainability became part of mainstream vocabulary. Working this way kept me grounded, hands-on and connected to craft.

Miami, New York and the Return Home

Before New York, there was South Beach, Miami. I arrived there when I desperately needed a reset after years of running my label in London, teaching, selling internationally and working at a relentless pace, alongside the end of a long relationship. South Beach in the early 90s was nothing like the glossy version people know today. The buildings were sun-faded, the hotels half-forgotten and the creative crowd was only just beginning to arrive. It was raw, scrappy and exactly the disruption I needed.

What began as a holiday quickly became something much bigger. Ocean Drive was an exuberance of Art Deco buildings, colour and salt air. Retired locals sat outside their hotels, fashion shoots happened on the pavements and models drifted between agencies like Next and Wilhelmina. It felt chaotic and full of possibility. Within days I had found an international fashion school and decided to return. Nine months later I moved into a Deco apartment on Ocean Drive.

Then came one of those strange runs of luck that only make sense years later. Through a chance meeting with Norman Gosney, who had been the set designer for the film Beetlejuice, I ended up in conversation with the financial director of multi-billionaire Thomas Kramer. Suddenly I was being driven to Star Island to discuss concepts for a retail project that was meant to launch on Ocean Drive and eventually roll out across the US.

It was exhilarating and surreal, and then, just as quickly, it was gone. The company restructured and the project disappeared overnight. Yet that short chapter shifted something in me. Miami showed me I could take my work anywhere and that my life did not need to follow a predictable path.

New York came next. It offered everything I needed at that point in my life, so I moved there after Miami and stayed for 12 years. I worked for several companies on 7th Avenue in the garment district and learned how the industry functioned at scale. The pace was relentless and the expectations high. It sharpened my skills and taught me resilience. It also taught me how to hold on to my identity in a city that demands output from everyone who enters it.

When I returned to the UK, I began freelancing for Liberty and was instrumental in developing their swimwear brand. I later launched Sea Sirens, built around colour psychology, crystal healing and the therapeutic qualities of cosmeceutical textiles. I wanted to create fashion with intention rather than trend-driven output.

In 2011, during my MA in Fashion Futures, I deepened my research into sustainable materiality and began to see how textiles, science, design and cultural behaviour fit into larger systems.

Ageing in an Industry Built for the Young

From the 2000s onwards, I also became aware of something many women in creative fields understand. As you get older, the industry shifts around you. Fashion likes to claim it values experience, yet most investment and opportunity still go to the young.

Freelance work becomes harder to secure, not because skill fades, but because the industry struggles to imagine that women over a certain age are still ambitious, creative and fully capable. That shrinking of opportunity is real and deserves to be acknowledged

Reinvention and the Puzzle Book

This book grew from that reality. I needed a project that allowed me to share my knowledge without waiting for anyone to offer a platform. I wanted something that supported me while I build the next chapter of Scarlet Destiny. Most of all, I wanted to spark curiosity, because fashion is not trends. It is materials, makers, silhouettes, subcultures, science, memory and mood. It deserved a format that felt open and democratic.

I made the book to share knowledge in a way that feels fun but still intelligent. The puzzles encourage curiosity about materiality, cutting, design and the designers shaping fashion today. Most of the other fashion puzzle books I have seen are generic and not created by someone who is still deeply involved in the industry. I wanted to create something with substance.

As I created the puzzles, everything I had lived began to filter through the pages. The energy of the clubs, the designers who marked different chapters of my life, the rhythm of 7th Avenue, the years learning textiles from the inside out. The recycled and unconventional materials I explored long before sustainability went mainstream. The British mills, the exhibitions, the subcultures that shaped my sensibility. All of it resurfaced and the book became a quiet archive in puzzle form.

Why I Chose Amazon and MoreTrees

Choosing Amazon was a practical decision. I wanted the book to be available to anyone, anywhere, without barriers and without the cost or gatekeeping of traditional publishing. Amazon has its challenges, and I cannot control every part of the production system, so to help counter the environmental impact I will be planting trees through MoreTrees in batches as sales grow. It is my way of balancing accessibility with responsibility. If I am going to create, I want to create with care.

Through MoreTrees I support verified reforestation and restoration projects around the world. Their work rebuilds ecosystems, supports biodiversity and benefits the communities who carry out the planting. It felt like a grounded and realistic way to give something back alongside a product made within a system that is not fully sustainable.

For me, sustainability is not about perfection. It is about intention, honesty and taking responsibility where you can. If Amazon ever offers responsible print options, I will switch without hesitation. Until then, I stay transparent about the trade-offs and build regenerative action wherever I can.

Who is the book for?

People often ask who the book is for. It is for fashion students who want to learn without feeling overwhelmed. It is for designers who want a moment away from the studio but still want to stay connected to culture. It is for fashion lovers who want something thoughtful rather than predictable. It is for the curious, the thinkers and the ones who always want the story behind things. It is also for the rebels who thrive on subcultures, queer style, underground movements and the ideas beneath the surface.

It is ideal for the friend who is impossible to buy for, the one who appreciates something clever and enjoys knowing more when they close a book than when they opened it.

Alongside the book I am developing Scarlet Destiny, my craft-led accessory brand. I am currently training in traditional saddlery techniques, bringing together everything I learned in fashion with the precision of leatherwork. It feels like a natural extension of my earlier experiments and reminds me that craft evolves when you stay curious. Even after decades in the industry, there is always more to learn.

Creating this book reminded me that reinvention is possible at any age. It keeps you engaged, visible and connected in a world that often sidelines older women despite the depth of their experience. This project allowed me to turn everything I have learned into something generous and open to everyone. It is fashion without gatekeeping. Learning without pressure. The beginning of my next chapter and completely on my own terms.

If this story resonates and you’d like to explore the book that grew from it, you can find it here:
mybook.to/fashionwordsearch