My initiation into the world of art began around the tender age of five or six,
nestled in the vibrant surroundings of Pakistan where I was born and spent my
formative years until the age of nine. It was within the comforting embrace of my
aunt’s home that the enchanting dance of creativity unfolded before my young
eyes. My aunt, forever tethered to her sewing machine, would often beckon me
with a familiar call whenever she struggled with threading the needle, her weak
sight unable to guide the thread through the minuscule eye of the needle. I
would descend from my room to come to her aid.
There was a rhythm in that ritual: a melody in her voice, the low hum of the machine, the click of scissors against wood, all of which resonated with the task at hand. Threading the needle was my small contribution, yet in its simplicity lay initiation. The peculiar thrill of passing thread through steel became an act of triumph, and afterward, I would often sit beside her in silent reverence, watching fabric turn to form, scraps into garments, the ordinary transfigured into the extraordinary. The metamorphosis of raw cloth into something wearable fascinated me endlessly, even if I could not yet name what stirred within me. In those moments, the seeds of curiosity and reverence were planted, seeds that have since blossomed into the garden of my craft.
Now, at the age of twenty one, I find myself in a space where the opportunities of life stretch wide before me. For me, fashion and living are interchangeable: to
create, I must first live, and to live fully is itself a form of art. The beauty of the
mundane, the drape of a jacket left across a chair, the warm flicker of lamplight
on a stitched pocket, contains within it entire worlds. To create art is not to
escape life, but to surrender to it, shamelessly and without reserve.
I have come to see that art is in service of living. We admire it in galleries and
museums, we glimpse it spat out on the walls through trains as acts of rebellion,
and yet, no two eyes behold it the same way. How I see things is through the lens
I’ve accumulated as I’ve passed through my life. In moments of living that feed
my conscious and subconscious alike, in experiences I’ve had whether painfully
devoid of love or overflowing with love-filled joy, all of this has shaped how and
who I am. To express that through fashion and clothes and poetry is my way of
coping.
These experiences shape my garments, my words, my very skin. They are stitched into the lining of who I am.
My art is my fashion. It pours from the slit in my soul that no needle can stitch shut. The needle may pierce cloth, but it cannot mend the ruptures of the self; it can only translate them. With every stitch and stroke, I lay bare the fabric of my soul, allowing it to bleed out onto the canvas of my existence. Whether draped in garments of beauty or cloaked in the shadows of pain, each creation tells a story: a love tale of grief, joy, sorrow, rebellion, and everything in between.
In a world that often seeks to numb our senses, I aim to create art that serves as a reminder of our shared humanity, a beacon of vulnerability and authenticity in a sea of superficiality. Just as my aunt once turned the ordinary act of threading a needle into a moment of magic, I aim to weave garments that echo with humanity, that demand presence, that live beyond themselves.
My fashion isn't merely about adornment; it's a visceral experience that transcends the superficial to touch the very essence of it means to be human. Through my creations, I seek to evoke emotions, to stir the soul, to weave dreams that linger delicately upon the skin.
Sufism
My voice, my identity, and the essence of my soul are all instruments of expression when it comes to fashion. My attendance with Sufi mysticism is a key component when it comes to prerequisites, both for life and art. At its heart, Sufism is a journey toward purification of the inner self, the remembrance of God, and the pursuit of divine love through humility and sincerity.
The Qur’an reminds us: “God is Beautiful, and He loves beauty.” This truth speaks to the essence of art; it is not vanity, but a reflection of the divine order and harmony woven into existence. Beauty becomes a form of worship when it directs us toward gratitude and awe of the Creator.
In this sense, my garments are not just fabric stitched together; they are reflections of remembrance, tasbih in thread and needle. They are an externalization of an inner dialogue, a striving for ihsan (excellence), the same principle the Prophet ﷺ described: “to worship God as if you see Him, and if you do not see Him, know that He sees you.”
The richness of Sufi tradition, with its emphasis on inner purity and love of God, seeps into my practice. Clothing becomes a language of devotion, a way to trace the unseen onto the seen. Each jacket, each embroidered thread, is an attempt to translate the soul’s yearning into a visible, wearable form.
To me, the garments I choose are jewels for the body. My approach to design is that of a painter: the garment is my canvas, the needle my brush. I feel compelled to give lifeless clothes from charity stores a renewed identity, one that mirrors my own. Upcycled buttons and jewels add glamour, glinting like chimes when worn. Contoured fabrics become murals, emulsifying mystery and splendor.
The art of fashion is for the living. Clothes, to me, are not mere garments but wearable art, a refusal of mundaneness, an exhibition of passion and compassion stitched into form.
