Raw denim, peacock green satin taffeta, shreds of beaded fringing, oversized versus draped, creases, raw edges, and tailoring, a bumpy road defined by three stages. Giant armor-cloaks and delicate dresses that caress bare skin, as if blown by the wind. Couture bombers tattooed with eyes and mouths. Endless sleeves. The eye forms, deforms, reforms. Sharp edges, Siamese dresses, totem masks. Uneven lines. I think I’m more about creating an emotion than pleasing people. A palette of white, red, and black. The battle between the horse and the swan. Momentum and fear. Freedom under pressure. My first fashion show. The one in which I gave all of my being, from A to Z.

Charles de Vilmorin