Words by Lena Kunschert

Fräulein Talents: Beate Karlsson

Following her latest presentation at Milan Fashion Week, Beate Karlsson continues to prove that a new generation of designers is redefining what fashion leadership looks like. As the founder and creative director of Avavav, she stepped into a leading role at a young age, building a label known for its sculptural designs, playful humor, and concept-driven runway moments. In an industry shaped by constant pressure and fast cycles, Karlsson represents a new wave of women shaping both creative vision and business strategy on their own terms. We spoke with her about imagination, leadership, and building a brand designed to last.

Very concretely, please answer in just one sentence: Why do you do what you do?

I do what I do because I love creating physical objects and building worlds around them, while having the freedom to think independently and shape both the artistic vision and the business on my own terms.

Tell us about your upbringing and the first time you experienced a moment of calling, when it became clear: I have a vision and I will follow it.

I’ve always felt an urge to create, whether it was building small worlds in nature, making jewelry from plants, mixing my own perfumes, or filming and editing little movies. I was constantly turning imagination into small physical artifacts.

One defining moment was when I was nine and created a jewelry collection I was determined to sell in a boutique in Stockholm. I was too shy to ask myself, so my mother did, and they said yes. That feeling, that something I made could exist in the real world, was when it became clear that this was the path I wanted to follow.

If you had to define your approach to life, would you say it is more “I fight my way through” or “what is meant for me will find me”? And why?

I try not to control things too much, even though I probably have a strong need for control. I relate a lot to Rick Rubin’s philosophy of “follow the signs” and trusting the process. At the same time, I do believe that the more you commit to something and keep pushing, the more likely you are to shape the outcome you hope for. So for me, it’s both surrender and persistence.

“You have to lose your way a little to find your own voice.”
“I do what I do because I love creating physical objects and building worlds around them.”

How did you find your own specific aesthetic expression, and how would you describe it today?

There have been years of experimenting, copying, and realizing what doesn’t feel right. You have to lose your way a little to find your own voice. And when you combine creativity with business, when things also need to sell, it’s easy to drift off course. I think a lot of it simply comes with time: testing, adjusting, and slowly becoming clearer about who you are.

Starting out quite young and stepping into a leadership role early on, did you have to grow into authority, or did it feel natural to you? Do you think finding your voice as a woman in fashion comes with additional expectations about strength, softness, leadership, or likability?

Authority is definitely something I’ve had to grow into. When you start young, you often lead through passion and friendship, and one of my dreams with building my own company was to create something that feels like a chosen family. I genuinely love the people I work with. But I’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that leadership is an exchange. You can’t only be a friend, you also have to set expectations, make decisions, and sometimes step into discomfort. That clarity is part of respect.

“I’ve always felt the need to find my own version of femininity.”

When you speak about the female gaze, it feels deeply personal. How does your own experience of womanhood influence the way you construct silhouettes, choose materials, and cast the women who embody your collections?

I’ve never felt completely at home in a fixed idea of femininity. As a child I was more of a tomboy, and in my early teens I felt this pressure to “step into” womanhood in a more defined way. But I’m not androgynous, and I don’t feel like I’m rejecting femininity either, I’ve just always felt the need to find my own version of it. That search naturally influences how I construct silhouettes and choose materials.

For example, I like dresses and skirt, but I often prefer them layered over trousers. I don’t dislike my body; I just don’t always feel comfortable with certain kinds of exposure. I’m very aware of how “second-skin” garments, like extremely tight tights, can almost feel like a layer of visible vulnerability. It fascinates me how normalized that is for women, while the same level of exposure on a man can feel surprisingly confronting. Those subtle social codes around the body, modesty, and visibility inform how I shape garments and cast the women who embody them.

Your work often moves between irony and sincerity, between exaggeration and something very real. Do you consciously navigate that tension, or is it simply how you experience the world?

I think it comes from talking about things that are real. When you address something that genuinely frustrates or affects you, there’s often both sincerity and irony present at the same time. The irony can be a way of coping, of creating a little distance from something that might otherwise feel heavy.

So I don’t consciously try to construct that tension; it’s more a reflection of how I experience the world. Truth is rarely uncomplicated. Most emotions carry contradictions, and I’m interested in holding those contradictions rather than resolving them. That’s usually where the work lives.

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