I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I was probably less than 10. It was a school party, but since it was a sports-oriented school, the party took place at an ice rink.
I was extremely lucky to have my grandmother, the best seamstress ever, on my side. So I figured out that I wanted a jumpsuit for the occasion.
Grandma delivered something beautiful—extraordinary, in fact. The one and only jumpsuit. It fit like a dream, tailored just for me, with the kind of precision and love that only she could sew into every stitch. The fabric was soft but structured, allowing me to move freely on the ice while still feeling effortlessly stylish.
I remember the moment I put it on—how special it felt, how I stood just a little taller, how it wasn’t just an outfit but a statement. A statement that said, this is me. It was unlike anything anyone else wore, and that made it even better.
That night, as I skated around the rink, feeling both light and unstoppable, I knew that clothes could be more than just clothes. They could hold memories, emotions, a sense of belonging. And this jumpsuit, my grandmother’s creation, became a piece of my childhood that I’d never quite forget.
But the jumpsuit is just an excuse—an entry point into those memories. I guess IRMA is my way of looking back, a retrospective on style, on my childhood. It’s my way of holding onto that feeling of wearing something that truly represents me.
I want to stay strong in my vision of style—to be inspired by the world around me but never swallowed by it. Fashion, for me, is not about trends or fleeting influences. It’s about identity, about knowing who you are and wearing it with quiet confidence.