Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic My personal style signifier is a necklace with my name on it that I bought from a local shop on the main street of Timaru, New Zealand; I’ve had it since I was about eight years old. I remember picking out the beads and watching as they assembled it. Another cherished piece is a choker composed of a signet ring my grandfather gave me as a child and an Hermès art deco-style whistle pendant strung on a red thread. I also have a gold pinky ring engraved with the letter “A” in honour of my father, Alan.The last thing I bought and loved was a gorgeous bronze floor-standing candlestick holder on the auction site Catawiki. It’s part of the Amsterdam School movement, a style of architecture in the Netherlands from 1910 to 1930. It’s known for its dramatic, sculptural forms and geometric patterns with decorative elements. The place that means a lot to me is Lake Wānaka in New Zealand, where I grew up. There’s a path that follows the shoreline and I have a few special spots around it that I love. I always feel very grounded there.And the best souvenir I’ve brought home is an antique padlock in the shape of a lion. I was visiting Rajasthan to take part in one of the incredible textile workshops with artisans that Stella Berkofsky of Wonderful Workshops organises. I had a free afternoon to explore the markets and came across a man selling all different kinds of locks. The best book I’ve read in the past year is Deserts Are Not Empty, edited by Samia Henni. It’s an incredible collection of essays, conversations and poems that challenge the portrayal of deserts as barren, lifeless voids. The book explores the geopolitical implications of this narrative, revealing how colonial and imperial powers have weaponised the notion of emptiness to justify exploitation and control. The podcast I’m listening to is Bad Gays, which looks at notorious queer figures in history such as Irish pirate Anne Bonny and Burmese gangster Olive Yang. I also love Time Sensitive by Spencer Bailey – long, thoughtful conversations with people about their life and work. I’ve listened to the episode with theatre director Robert Wilson multiple times. The way he talks about the importance of light in his work is inspiring. His words, “without light, there’s no space”, have remained with me. Atkinson’s style icon Sinéad O’Connor at Glastonbury Festival in 1992 © Mirrorpix via Getty ImagesMy style icon is Sinéad O’Connor. Her use of clothing and style as a medium for activism was iconic – shaving her head in defiance of the gendered expectations forced on her by her label, wearing slogan T-shirts that advocated for Aids rights and calling out abuse in the Catholic Church. She was uncompromising. The best gift I’ve given recently was one of my soft mohair throws with a personalised label. I work closely with artisans in Ukraine to produce wool rugs and blankets using a traditional Hutsul technique dating back many centuries. A crucial step involves steeping the woven pieces in river water. Over the winter months, the Cheremosh River can freeze over, halting production. And since the Russian invasion, the challenges have only intensified. I’m in awe of the tenacity and resilience of the incredible artisans I collaborate with.I’ve always been sceptical of astrology – very Aquarius of meAnd the best gift I’ve received is my Gaetano Pesce resin table, a birthday present from my mother a few years ago. The table is anthropomorphised with tears running down its face. I like to imagine they’re happy tears and that the table is just as sensitive as I am.The last music I bought was All Life Long by Kali Malone, an American organist and composer based in Stockholm. It’s a tender masterpiece that moves me every time I listen to it. I have a collection of rocks. When I’m on a beach I’m magnetised by them. I grew up immersed in nature, which I really miss. Even though I love living in Paris, surrounding myself with these small pieces of nature is comforting. One of my favourites comes from the coast of Matakaea, in the Moeraki area of Te Waipounamu, New Zealand’s South Island. The name Matakaea recalls the tradition of the Ārai-te-uru waka (canoe), which brought kūmara (sweet potato) to Aotearoa [the Māori name for New Zealand]. As the waka travelled down the east coast of the South Island, it encountered rough seas at the Waitaki River mouth, where its food baskets and water gourds were lost overboard, transforming into the Moeraki Boulders along the coast. I have always been drawn to the image of the vessel; there’s something poetic about the creation of a void through the intent to fill it. The rock I have has a deep hollow at its centre, mirroring the form of the Moeraki Boulders.The best way to spend €20 is on an evening playing pool at Billards M8 in Belleville with a group of friends; we have turned it into a fortnightly ritual. In my fridge you’ll always find a bottle of Madre Mezcal, omega 3 supplements and parsley. The things I couldn’t do without are my books, which are displayed on shelves that a friend custom-built for me from a design taken from Enzo Mari’s book Autoprogettazione. I often pull out books to reference something or re-read a passage. A bookshelf should be used in a dynamic way. An indulgence I would never forgo is a celebratory Martini at Bar 228 at Le Meurice Hotel. Dry vodka with a twist, in case you’re wondering. The last item of clothing I added to my wardrobe was a pair of Miu Miu brushed-leather kitten heels. I love that they are very witchy, but still sexy. An object I would never part with is a red ribbon hand-embroidered with the words “Substance in a Cushion”, gifted to me by Jacqueline Sullivan. It was the title of the opening show at her Tribeca gallery, which I was privileged enough to be a part of. She commissioned artist Isa Toledo to create a series of these beautiful ribbons.The one artist whose work I would collect if I could is David Robilliard, a British artist and poet who died during the ’80s Aids epidemic. His drawings and paintings are often combined with his poetry, blending text and imagery. The work is so direct and honest in its simplicity.A way to make me laugh is to tease me.The beauty staple I’m never without is the Repair Everything Balm by New Zealand brand Real World; it’s made with mānuka honey. I refill my monogrammed Buly lip balm container with it and take it everywhere. Real World Repair Everything Balm, $45My favourite room in my house is my bedroom – it has this soft, glowing light that streams in, which feels instantly calming. I love to get cosy on my giant mohair blanket and watch films on the projector. I recently watched The Sacrifice, Tarkovsky’s final film before he died of cancer. It’s a deeply moving parable that centres around a middle-aged intellectual who attempts to make a pact with God to stop a nuclear war. It’s devastatingly beautiful. My wellbeing guru is artist and astrologer Margaret Haines. I’ve always been a bit sceptical of astrology – very Aquarius of me – but as it’s a core part of lesbian culture, I lean into it. Last year, I had an astrological chart reading with Margaret, and it ended up being such a guiding force. There were specific aspects of the reading that turned out to be completely accurate. Maybe it’s because she’s an artist, but her approach to astrology feels creative, sensitive and deeply nuanced.In another life, I would have been a flamenco dancer or a nunchaku (an east Asian martial arts weapon) master. Both are hobbies I’ve been exploring recently, so maybe it’s not too late. The work of art that changed everything for me was Pina Bausch’s dance piece, Café Müller. Discovering her work as a teenager massively opened up my understanding of the ability art has to express the intangible. Her work reveals the nuances of emotion and relationships in a way that hits me deep in the chest. When I need to feel inspired, I move my body. If I have time I’ll go for a long walk along the Seine. In my past life as a stylist, I compiled research for designers including Missoni and Acne Studios. That trained my brain to always be open to my surroundings – be it people on the street, art shows or a scene from a film. This is still the approach I have to my work now. The best bit of advice I ever received was, “don’t always trust your thoughts”. It’s aligned with a mindfulness practice in which you observe your thoughts with distance, without becoming identified with them. I was diagnosed with ADHD just over a year ago, which has given me a deeper understanding of my tendency to overthink and get caught up in multiple trains of thought. This practice helps me slow down and not get overwhelmed by all the internal noise.
