At first, fashion design felt like a separate world. But as the course progressed, I began to see how closely textiles relate to spatial design. The way a garment folds, how woven textures catch light — these qualities now inform how I think about interior materials and atmosphere.
A key moment came when I reflected on a Spider-Man T-shirt I’ve owned for years. It’s loud, worn-out, and sentimental — and that’s exactly why I keep it. It holds memory, emotion, and identity. This made me realize that, like interior spaces, garments are containers of personal stories.
That idea deepened during our T-shirt tech pack project. Translating a design into a production document taught me how precise, layered, and communicative the fashion process really is. That process changed the way I see even the most familiar items. My old Spider-Man tee may be sentimental, but now I’m also curious about its fabric blend, its edge finishes, and why it has held its shape so well over the years. The tech pack showed me that storytelling in design isn't only conceptual — it's also built into structure and production.
Japanese designers have also shaped my thinking before — especially Taiga Takahashi and Shinsuke Nakada. Visiting Takahashi’s store in Kyoto, I was struck by how harmoniously the garments and interiors spoke to each other. Nakada, with his brands Unlikely and DAIWA PIER39, shows how daily life, movement, and attitude are embedded in what we wear. His layering style and urban storytelling resonate deeply with my own design values.
But reading Elizabeth Hawes’ Fashion Is Spinach added a critical layer to this admiration. She questions the industry’s obsession with constant change and meaningless trends, drawing a line between fashion and style. Her critique made me reflect on my own tastes. Why do I like certain designers? Am I appreciating their design values, or just responding to cultural signals? Hawes’ writing reminded me to stay conscious — to design and consume with intention.
All of this has led me to see fabric not just as material, but as medium — capable of shaping emotion, experience, and narrative. I’ve started exploring textile-based installations and furniture concepts that use fabric tension and movement to influence space and perception.
This journey hasn’t just been technical — it’s been transformative. I now see design as a network of influence: material, culture, memory, critique — all connected through thoughtful making.
Thanks for listening. I look forward to sharing more of my textile and spatial experiments soon.