as a young girl I always enjoyed the feel and look of clothing. Growing up in Soweto, you socialised at weddings and church – those were times when you could shine and put on your best outfit and I enjoyed that. I couldn’t sew to save my life at school, but when playing with dolls with my siblings and cousins, I had the fashion sense, in terms of knowing what looked good on the dolls. And the passion grew from there. So going into the fashion industry was an easy transition for me, because I felt I could make a difference by investing in the growth of industries that define who we are as a nation. The fashion and arts industry is important in that regard, as well as the way it employs thousands of people, such as fabric makers, seamstresses and beaders”.

Since I was a little girl, I've had this passion for fashion and for what makes women look beautiful.

Once upon a time You dressed so fine

I remember the whirr and whine of her black Singer,
the gold traceries on the cast iron rod
by the wheel that lifted and lowered the needle.
Threading, eyepieces, winding the turquoise string
through hooks, around miniscule wheels, up and down,
her hands clever in labyrinths, ...the needle racing through gingham, poplin, seersucker, cambric,
the pedal pressed heavily down with the weight of one woman,
eye intent, hands feeding and receiving the fabric.

One day, when my mother came back from a trip,” Oumou recalled, “she saw that I had managed to clothe all her children in brand new clothes

His clothes were such elegant confections, beautifully hand-stitched and of such exquisite materials, that Margo was torn between envy at his wardrobe and disgust

I’ve always been a fashion girl. I believe I fell in love with clothes and art as a child. My mum tells that I when I was a child, she would dress me in all sorts of ways; sometimes like a boy but always outstanding. When I got older, I fell in love with art. I enjoyed drawing; I would literally draw everyone at home, from my siblings to my mum

Fashion is her favourite disciple.

My mother bids me bind my hair </br> With bands of rosy hue, </br> Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare, </br> And lace my bodice blue.

Her delight in the smallest things was like that of a child. There were days when she ran in the garden, like a child of ten, after a butterfly or a dragon-fly. This courtesan who had cost more money in bouquets than would have kept a whole family in comfort, would sometimes sit on the grass for an hour, examining the simple flower whose name she bore.

As far back as she could remember, she had gone in for day-dreams about what clothes, jewellery and the like she would wear if, like her admired and adored Marie Antoinette, she were somehow to find herself facing public execution.

They very often would let me paint, you know, instead of doing some of the other lessons, because I didn't speak English well enough. So I had a lot of painting. And I brought the paintings home with great pride, and my mother kept them for years, so I do know that I sort of…That was a place that I actually remember the smell of those materials and the texture of the surfaces and just, you know, kind of having this real visceral love of moving that color around -- which is, I think, you know, I still have that…

"It's kind of a dream come true, because to me fashion is not just the clothes, it's all the accoutrements that go with it...

On the breast of her gown, in fine red cloth, surrounded with an elaborate embroidery and fantastic flourishes of gold thread, appeared the letter A.