SPARK
As a child, I designed small couture pieces for cartoon characters, each given a poetic name.
It was my first glimpse of how clothing could carry a dream.
Fashion opened a wider world. I studied runway shows, explored brands, and tried on different styles, searching for a language of my own.
Then minimalism slowed everything down. Strip away the unnecessary, and what remains becomes clear. I began to ask what truly suits me and what is worth keeping.
With that in mind, I moved to Paris. Living there, I spent my days wandering the city, trying on garments, feeling fabrics and cuts, speaking with people in stores, and observing how people dressed in everyday life.
My goal was to build a capsule wardrobe of my own, and in that search, I began to understand myself more clearly.
Traveling alone across Europe clarified the need to move light.
That principle later defined how I lived in Tokyo, in an empty apartment with fewer, better-chosen things and a uniform way of dressing that required knowing exactly what was right.
When I began searching for that one piece, I realized how difficult simplicity is.
The closer something came to ideal, the more it fell short somewhere else. Materials of uncertain origin. Processes without transparency. Details that caused discomfort where there should be none.
I could not find what I was looking for.
I stepped away for a while.
Walking through forests, sitting by rivers, watching ducks drift without destination, listening to waves meeting the shore.
In that quiet, something settled.