On the thirtieth day of January ’26, we arrived in St. Moritz for my birthday — and stepped onto the frozen lake for The Ice St. Moritz.

Everything felt surreal from the very first moment.

The lake, completely frozen. The mountains surrounding it like a perfect frame. The sound of engines echoing softly across the snow, mixed with laughter, music, glasses clinking somewhere in the distance. It wasn’t just an event — it felt like a world of its own.

And the people.

I couldn’t stop looking at them.

Every single person had style. Effortless, bold, intentional. Fur coats, vintage sunglasses, statement boots, textures layered in a way that somehow felt both spontaneous and perfectly curated. It was like walking through a moving editorial — everywhere I turned, another look, another detail, another story.

I remember thinking, this is too good to just photograph.

The images wouldn’t be enough.

I wanted to capture the feeling of it. The movement. The attitude. The way it all came together on that frozen surface under the winter sun. And somewhere between walking, shooting, observing — the idea quietly formed.

What if this could be worn?

So I went back to every photo I took. And even beyond that — diving into moments I found, references, details, fragments of this atmosphere. I started drawing. Reimagining. Turning everything I saw into lines, shapes, compositions that felt like mine.

Not just memories — but pieces.

Pieces that could live beyond that one day. On t-shirts. On caps. On scarves, bags, phone cases. Things you carry with you. Things you wear without overthinking, but that still say something.

I kept asking myself — what would feel natural here? What would someone wear to The Ice, not to stand out, but to belong?

And that’s how this collection was created.

On the thirtieth day of January ’26, I came to St. Moritz for my birthday.

And left with something more than photographs.

Something I could actually hold.