Fashion is for the weak; style is for the brave. — Boy George.

When you are six years old, uprooted from Iran to France, and given a name like Catherine to smooth over your brown skin and Middle Eastern features, you learn early on that conformity is a survival mechanism. Growing up in Paris, I endured the sting of humiliation from teachers and peers because my French wasn’t perfect. I wanted nothing more than to disappear into the background, yet I was craving to be seen.
That is what fashion is, really. It is a shield, a mask worn to fit into someone else's mirror. It’s a set of rules handed down by strangers, telling you exactly what to wear, how to look, and how to fit in so nobody questions your right to be in the room. Following fashion is easy. It takes no courage to buy into a trend. It is for the "weak"—or rather, for the ones who don’t yet know who they truly are. They hide behind the trends because they might be too afraid to let the world see who they actually are.
But style? Style is what happens when you stop being polite, stop trying to copy the script, and decide to speak in your own voice—even if your voice shakes. Style can be terrifying because, for most, it brings the fear of judgment.
I’ve always been a walking contradiction: a Persian Jew with a French name, a tomboy in a luxury world. Perhaps because I’m a Libra, I am forever tilting the scales to find my equilibrium.
I stumbled into the jewelry world by accident, entirely unsure of who I was or how to express myself. I couldn’t articulate what was missing, but I knew traditional luxury wasn't me. Designing with only precious metals felt too predictable.
But when I discovered raw buffalo horn and utilitarian parachute cord I felt something. These unexpected materials spoke to me, because they weren't "precious," yet they made perfect sense. By marrying them with gold and silver, I found my voice.
Style requires you to stand entirely alone in your truth. It demands that you look at a room full of critics and say, “This is who I am. Take it or leave it.” That requires courage.
Every time someone puts on a piece of my jewelry, they are making a choice to be seen. They are choosing unfussy, raw, authentic self-expression over the stifling comfort of fitting in.
It took me decades, three continents, and a lifetime of reinvention to find my own confidence.
I’m done hiding behind the rules. I know you are too.