Should i grow a thicker skin?

Category: Apparel

Should I grow a thicker skin? Since I was a child, people have told me I need to grow “a thicker skin.” This phrase has followed me through the years and I thought to myself - do we really need to filter emotions? How is emotional resilience different from emotional numbness? When I think about skin, I think about the barrier between myself and the world. Skin protects and insulates the inner self, just like clothing does. That was my starting point for this project. My challenge was to design layers that offer protection and resilience while retaining sensitivity and vulnerability to the world. There was something in leather that captured the essence I sought to convey. My main visual inspiration was Benefits Supervisor Sleeping by Lucian Freud (1995). Freud often painted people sleeping - a state of vulnerability, where the body is most lethargic and unguarded. In this painting, the model lies naked and asleep. It’s a vulnerable moment, yet her body is fully present and powerful. She’s not performing or apologizing. She’s simply there. That paradox - total exposure and total presence - became the axis for my entire design. I drew inspiration from the movement of her relaxed body, from the size and proportions of a soft, fleshy form, and from the textures and tones of human skin. Material-wise, I wanted to bring tenderness into leather. I explored the dialogue between strength and softness by combining leather with delicate materials like silk, lace, and tulle. The entire piece is made from natural materials. I selected the "wrong" side of the leather - the raw, unpolished inner surface, marked with blemishes and stretch marks. To me, that side holds a statement of truth and exposure. I painted on it using skin-tone pigments, scratched and abraded it with a grater, trying to create a surface that felt unfinished, in process - raw and evolving. I wanted the leather to appear heavy and flowing, but not collapsed - A softness that still holds shape, like the flesh of a relaxed body. The smooth, outer side of the leather was turned inward, used as a lining that occasionally peeks through. This inversion allowed me to expose the hidden, both literally and symbolically. It was important for me to investigate this axis with additional aspects of nature, which brought me to the dandelion flowers where its method of defense through dispersal inspired me. The dandelion flowers aren’t sewn onto the garment, instead, I pierced tiny holes in the leather with a needle, embracing its “memory” of injury. I threaded a thin wire through, building each flower from gathered silk and natural stones. They were meant to feel loose, almost falling, stirred by movement, like petals in the wind. As the wearer walks, the flowers sway, alive in their own tempo. I wanted the piece to hang from something fragile - a fine thread holding it all together. The neckline is shaped by a thin wire that pulls inward, like a body curling into itself. I intentionally left parts of the garment unresolved - romantic, but frayed. Something suspended between sleep and dream, between rest and resistance. I wanted it to move in a way that lingers behind, even after the body has passed. The piece was designed with a sustainable mindset, ethically, functionally, and emotionally. It's one-size, with an internal drawstring that adjusts to different body types, reducing waste and extending usability. Each leather hide was used almost entirely, including areas with scars or marks, which became part of the design and the story. All materials - leather, silk, metal, and beads, are natural, and the entire piece is fully recyclable and modular. This is a garment built to last, adapt, and grow, alongside the person wearing it.

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