I look at my 20-something year old with kindness. days spent in a rigid , pencil skirt suits and heels. Evenings- a promise of a glamorous night about to unfold, casual rose champagne and Manolo heels. A world as disjointed as my wardrobe, where night and day never met. In fact, they could come from entirely different planets. The Efficient and The Glamorous, orbiting in two different galaxies.

Somehow, somewhere, these two words merged. I’m no going to pretend it was seamless- it was not. Having a business and dressing the part- it was a struggle at first. I loathed going back to wearing a rigid, pencil skirt suit. Yet, on the days I wore silk blouses and denim, clients referred to my (only) male employee as ‘the boss”. Clearly, the smart casual angle was not working.

I realised that the answer was in a dress- a powerful dress that takes me from desk to dinner, from meeting to cocktails- all this without even adding high heels. In fact, I felt that heels were obsolete, reminiscent of a word where power women had to wear them for fear of not being taken seriously. I loath heels in work surroundings. I want to stomp the ground hard, reliant on my inner power or glide seamlessly- neither of which I achieve do in 10cm stilettos.

And so, The Sascha Signature Collection was born. Designed to be worn from desk to dinner, elegant, sophisticated, made to slim down your waist and ankles, and be worn with flats- super powerful, sophisticated wardrobe staple. I’m s excited to introduce “The Sascha-Signature Collection”. I hope she’ll change your life in the best way possible.

It was a  it of a marathon for me, the last 4 weeks. France- England- France- Guadeloupe- France-London. I think I know by now every square inch of Paris Montparnasse station and of course both Eurostar terminals. Getting a train between London and Paris feels a bit like getting a metro. 

I wanted to tell you about our Paris photo shot we did this month. Looking back everything went fine but it wasn’t plain sailing at first.  Must have been Mars retrograde. A photographer who agreed to work with me just stopped answering my emails. I’m quite annoyed with myself because this was a second time she did it and I should have pulled out the first time it happened (if you wandering why I still wanted to work with her, the reason is simple- she is really, really good). But I held on booking anything until I knew she was available.

The second time around it was kind of  “now or never” situation. We agreed on a date, a make up artist was was coming form London, the location and Eurostar tickets were paid for. Everything was ready to go and she just stopped replying. I spent a miserable weekend. The shot was planned for  Wednesday. On Saturday, I had no model and no photographer.  

You read it right. A model pulled out on me, too. It’s very difficult to find a short woman (I was looking for someone up to 160cm tall) and women I found were commercial models. Very, very beautiful but often curvier than my seize 36 samples.  So I resorted to contacting influencers… Guys, I know now why they often get such a bad rep…I mean, you are mind conversation with someone to discuss organisation details and they just stop replying. Nothing. Nada. At first I thought that maybe I offended this person? But no, I’m super respectful, offered to pay an advance and to pay expenses in advance too… did take it personally at first but then I realised that this person just wasn’t professional and it was nothing to do with me. 

After indulging  a little in a pity party I got really annoyed with myself. Why did I allow other people to “highjack” my photoshoot? I thought- NO,  it’s MY shot and it’s going ahead no matter what. 

I plucked up the courage and I emailed a photographer from Paris whose work I long admired on Instagram. I expected her to be busy but as my shot was planned the day after Paris Fashion Week had ended, she was free to do it. 

As for a model, I decided I would stand in front of the camera myself. It was not ideal because I wanted to build a brand detached from my face but it kind of made sense at the end. I’m short and the samples fit me, and all the shoes that go with my dresses fit me, too (obv since they belonged to me). The con was that instead of working with the photographer (you will so much when you are not in the middle of action),  you have to get comfortable in front of the camera lens. And of course, there is a visual factor. Maybe a couple of year ago it wouldn’t have been a problem for me, but I feel that last year added at least 5 more years to my face. As I said, not ideal. 

But that was it, I was going to make it to happen no matter what. On Tuesday evening, after a long  day at court and a mad dash to London Eurostar terminal,  I arrived at our Paris flat I booked for the shoot. 

If ever the was a definition of a lucky person, I’d say the owner of this apartment counts as one. Four bedrooms, a large living room, dining room and two bathrooms- not too shabby. It was a dream place- high ceilings, parquet floors, balconies, marble fireplaces…

On the day of the shoot I was so nervous that instead of preparing dresses and props, I was on Instagram, unable to do anything constructive. At the end, I pulled myself together in time to get stuff done before Aga, my make up artist arrived. I worked with her before and I knew she was going to make me look all cheekbones and tousled hair. I had recently cut my hair to a short bob so I bought some extensions which Aga made into a messy bun. 

I was so nervous- I guess it’s different to shoot for the blog when I know I have a super nice audience than for a promotional material. I mean, these photos have to have to sell the collection. No pressure then. 

Hana, the photographer turned out to be so nice and charismatic and she managed to put me at ease in 10 minutes flat. We immediately agreed on a concept and got it done, with Aga making sure my make up stayed put. I loved it, our little crew just getting stuff done on the streets of Paris. 

The day went by in a flash. Before The French joined me for dinner and champagne, (notat all romantic, a take away Mexican and a bottle of champagne at home),  I strolled through the neighbourhood of of chic 7th Arrondissement, just round the corner from my old friend, the Eiffel Tower. We stayed here a few times on holidays and even the bistro where took some of the photos,  was a familiar one- Trish and I went through a few bottles of Puligny- Montrachet there one summer 🙂 

And just like this, it was time to pack out bags and go to the airport. We were traveling to French Antilles for a birthday party. Rum, white sand beaches straight from Bounty commercial and balmy nights- a perfect antidotum to recent weeks…

When I received an invitation to a a yearly charity ball, I knew exactly that I was going to wear one of my samples. Long or short selves, with voluminous skirt, accompanied by simple sandals but The Row. Maybe a sash to make it more party like. Hair up.

My best friend wasn’t convinced. For the record- I never ask anyone’s opinion on my outfit unless it’s my stylish mother and I only ever listed to her. But people will do that to you, though- they will offer unsolicited advice and get annoyed when you take it on board.

My friend was becoming increasingly irritated that I wasn’t taking her suggestions into account. “But it’s not dressy enough- she said- you could wear to the office”. “I can wear it to the office and to a ball- I’ve designed it that way”- I replied. She wasn’t giving up. I was planning on wearing barely there sandals from The Row, a recent birthday gift to myself. She didn’t like the pairing, preferring I wore something silver or gold, or as a last result- black classic stilettos from Jimmy Choo, which were languishing in my closet ever since I mostly stopped wearing heels.

But I knew how I wanted to look and none of her-well meaning- suggestions had any place in my look. I couldn’t compromise for the sake of a party. I knew I wouldn’t feel myself in sequins and sparkly shoes, even if I were to look very different from other women at the ball.

At the end of course I wore what I planned on from the start. Even my friend had to admit that I looked great (here goes modest me ;)). I felt chic, classy, effortless- and myself.

So when Garance Dore recently wrote a post about becoming radical, it resonated so much with me. She talked about people and time, how making conscious choices who she spent time with and who she observed on social media made her life a much better one. Even though she didn’t talk about style, for me it was in the style department that I realised I became a radical. I refuse to compromise no matter what, I don’t pay attention to shiny new distractions even if they are all over Instagram and I only ever chose pieces which align with my vision. There aren’t many so I don’t shop much. I insist on purity of my vision (how is this for radical) and I learned to recognise “almost there” items. The result is that I look exactly the way I want to- chic, stylish, sharp – and like no one else.

I’m so happy to finally show you the first finished sample. I say “finished” but there are still minor corrections to be made. You won’t see them though, it’s more about construction and the fit so what you see here it’s pretty much the end.

It’s made of  bamboo silk, a wonder fabric about which I can talk for hours on end. Luxurious in look and feel, sustainable, machine washable(!), breathable, biodegradable…I can go on 🙂 I was going to make it in black bamboo only but my super stylish mother thought I could add a few dresses in white, too. She has a point-as the collection will be released for Spring, white one will look great with a raw leather belt and tan sandals.

I designed the whole collection to go with flat shoes (although it would look good, too paired with a mule with a low, dainty heel) for that effortless, powerful look- and feel.  For me, nothing says “confident” more than long skirt and flat shoes. I don’t feel like conforming to someone else’s idea of beauty. I don’t need or want sky high stilettos and skin tight clothes to feel powerful, beautiful or sexy.

I made this dress to take my clients from desk to dinner. To make them look and feel elegant, effortless and powerful without trying. And to make them forget about the dress and get on with their amazing lives.

Ps. And it has pocket, guys, it has pockets!

Those of us who ever read any books on how Parisian girls don’t get fat and swan around looking all cheekbones and tousled hair, could be quite susceptible to the myth of “I woke up like this”. I know I have been. “I woke up” with perfectly tousled hair and luminous skin. “I’ve just put on some concealer and smudged an eyeshadow, and just happen to look amazing”. Yeah… I know I’ve certainly felt inadequate in the looks department. The apparent simplicity of the look- I mean how hard can it be? The answer is very and you will most probably need a professional help unless you’ve done it for so long you are practically pro yourself.

When I called on the help of @aga-makeupartist the brief was straightforward- make me look like one of these French girls 😉 I wanted my face chiseled by light and shadows, with no obvious eyeliner, pencil or too much mascar. I wanted “natural” hair that looked like a careless bun, which I put up in a hurry that morning and now it was half falling apart. I imagined we would be done in 30 minutes flat.

An hour and half, we were still there.

Two hours later and effect was incredible- suddenly I was all cheekbones with luminous skin and deep green eyes, thick, tousled hair…and yet, had I told you I woke up like this, you could really believe it.  In a way it was a revelation- firstly that it is all an illusion. And that you can achieve it – if you want to. And that no one really looks like this in real life (unless you are Giselle that is ;)). The drawback of course is that you need to know what you doing. And that it takes a long time- even for a pro. But at least I’m over the illusion now.