There’s a quiet that arrives when something ends. It lingers in the air, what once was, and the sweetness of quiet demands to be heard. For a long time, I tried to rush through that space, to fill it with movement and noise.
But what I’ve learned is that this space, the one between endings and beginnings, is where everything meaningful starts to take shape.
When I began Other Matters Atelier, I didn’t have a plan as much as a feeling. I wanted to make again return to the kind of creating that wasn’t about production or performance, but about care. About rebuilding, piece by piece, what felt lost.
I started with what already existed: vintage blazers, forgotten fabrics, old ideas. I took them apart, studied the purpose behind each detail, and asked what could be kept, what could be reimagined. It became a meditation on renewal, not as something sudden or grand, but as something slow, honest, and deeply human.
In the atelier, the act of remaking is a kind of listening. You learn that every piece has a memory. That endings aren’t failures; they’re invitations. When we unmake something, we meet it again, lighter, clearer, more aligned with who we’ve become.
That’s what Other Matters means to me. It’s the work that happens quietly in the in-between, where the old and the new overlap, and where possibility feels fragile but alive.
Maybe that’s what all beginnings really are: a gentle return to what’s true. A willingness to sit in the unfinished, to find meaning in the making, to trust that what’s coming next will meet you when you’re ready.
So if you find yourself in that space between what was and what will be, I hope you stay there a little longer. There’s beauty in the pause and there's beauty in not knowing the outcome. Sometimes, that’s where everything begins again.
xo hope