The spare bedroom was never meant to be a studio. But there I was, twin toddlers napping in the next room, and the hum of my sewing machine filling the air. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds, catching dust motes as they floated above fabric rolls leaning against the wall.

A secondhand dress form stood in the corner, wearing an off-white crochet lace dress with raw scalloped edges. It was imperfect and beautiful. And it felt like a beginning.

Before that, I had spent years in high fashion, even managing a Chanel boutique. I had seen luxury up close. But deep down, I longed for something else.

I wanted to make things with soul.

So I started creating for myself. Pieces that felt like freedom. Dresses that didn’t follow rules or fit into categories. I listed a few on Etsy and quietly hoped someone out there would understand.

Then the messages started. One woman wrote, “I wore your dress to my wedding. I’ve never felt more myself.” Another said, “I cried when I opened the box. I didn’t even know why.”

I hadn’t meant to step into bridal. But somehow, bridal found me. And in that moment, I understood something that changed everything.

I wasn’t just making dresses. I was helping women remember who they are.