Who we are

In the Wake of Memory

Much of my life was spent watching the ships glide across the Bosphorus—each one carrying quiet stories from places I didn’t yet know. Istanbul has never been just a city to me. It has always been a landscape where greys, blues, and burnt oranges layer themselves; a place where the past and the present can exist in the same frame. Perhaps that is why I have never felt the need to confine myself to a single style or a single line. I have always been drawn to layers.

Over time, I realized this: second-hand pieces, vintage clothing, and old household objects carry a silent history. There are traces of life woven into their textures. I prefer noticing the story before the new—blending the old with the new, mixing the contemporary with the historic. These transitions add a different kind of depth, both to style and to life. I pay attention to texture, form, craftsmanship, and how an object or garment settles into a space or onto a body. Style, for me, is not a title; it is a way of seeing the world, expressing oneself, and finding one’s place in it.

The same instinct guides me in decoration: a vintage object beside something modern, a bold color resting against a quiet surface, or simply the way light falls across a table can shift the entire atmosphere. I am drawn to the weight objects carry, the presence they hold in a room, and the way details from different eras speak to one another. Harmony, I’ve learned, often emerges from contrast.

And when I write, I follow that same reflex. I pay attention to every detail moving through my life—the energy of harmony and discord, the subtle jokes only a few people notice, the small vibrations that slip through ordinary moments. That is where stories begin for me.

Philosophy

• Drawn to Layers Rather Than Simplicity
• Sustainable by Choice and Intention
• Emotional by Nature