FRÄULEIN TALENTS ISSUE 38

Jinny Song: It was a bit of both, I have to say. I definitely had a strong need to distance myself from my past and my home. It was something I felt for a very long time, but the chance occurrence was that I got into the Royal Academy of Antwerp. The admission process there involves an entrance exam which requires international students to attend in person – flights were very expensive and it was a completely new continent to me, with a different culture and language, but I took the risk. The feeling of wanting distance from everything I knew was a constant thing growing up. I remember thinking that if something crazy or horrible happened to me, it would take my parents two full days to get here and this was liberating, in a strange way.

At first, the distance felt like a breath of fresh air. It was like, “Okay, I am really on my own now.” I had left home when I was 17 and started renting rooms in Los Angeles, but moving to a completely different country unlocks a different version of you. If you’re comfortable and aware of your surroundings, you don’t really activate this part of yourself. When I came here, everything scared me, even doing laundry. [laughs] These small things challenged me and sparked a new version of myself. I was quite lonely at first, but it was very important for me. It was the beginning of developing my own opinions, likes, dislikes and voice. I recommend everyone to go as far as they can from their home.

It was definitely a big, emotional journey. To give you some context, before returning home, I considered taking a taxi from the airport because I didn’t know what we would talk about in the hourlong car ride home. That’s how nervous and awkward I felt with my parents. When I got out of LAX, the first thing I remember was seeing my mom’s face. In my mind, I had had this image of her from when she was 40 – which was 10 years ago. I realized how vulnerable she was to time and age, and it humanized her for me. She was always just a mom; I had never seen her as a woman, a five-year-old girl, a teenager, or someone my age. I suddenly recognized her as multidimensional, which I had never done before. This realization made me want to cry. There was so much regret, pain, sadness and love that I had buried deep down. It all came out. It was a big explosion of emotions because I had kept it in for so long. Since I’ve experienced this with her and she came to Antwerp for my graduation show, this collection became a starting point for a conversation about healing between us, which I never imagined we would have.

For me, it’s not so much about closure but rather about understanding, empathy and widening your perspective. She doesn’t know all the details about this project because she’s very religious and conservative. I used to hold these things against her, thinking she was close-minded, which distanced us even more. This was a big reason why I wanted to leave home, but now I see she’s doing the best she can, given her different life experiences. She came from South Korea, where her grandmother had lived through war. These experiences shaped her. It’s about embracing her because she’s the only mother I have. I’m very lucky she’s still here. She took it quite well, though she doesn’t know about the Venus figurines because they go against Christianity. She knows it’s about the emotional trauma that affects me and the love between a mother and her child. She was very emotional about it.

Yes! I asked her to record a melody she used to sing to me as a child. She gave me two versions. Later, she told me it took her an hour to record those 30 seconds because she kept crying, reminiscing about our past. My boyfriend, Mattia Manzo, produced the track from the recordings. It was special for me because I only spoke Chinese when we moved to America, and she was the only person I could talk to as the rest of my family spoke Korean. My attachment to her was strong then, and the separation felt intense. Hearing her sing, knowing she was emotional about it, made it more meaningful. You can hear her voice shaking in the recordings.

It’s exactly as you said: a very primal form of art. It’s a pure version of motherhood and womanhood. I gravitate towards raw and pure forms for inspiration. It’s a connection between my personal experience and history, and it relates to generational trauma. It felt fitting to include these elements in my work.

It’s very scary. I don’t know if I ever want to be a mom, but it gave me a better understanding of my mom as well as my aunts and grandmother. Motherhood is so complicated, and many conflicts and traumas spawn from it. You don’t have to experience it to understand, but being understanding and having empathy are crucial. I felt like my mom had to be perfect and when she wasn’t, I was hurt and I distanced myself. We expect perfection from mothers, which is unreasonable. There has to be more empathy.

There are a couple of elements in the collection. One is this underlying mass beneath transparency. I used a lot of tulle to signify generational trauma. In my knits, there are these wooden circles that I crocheted, representing little windows into the generational trauma we all carry within ourselves. The circle motif is a constant theme in the collection. I do a lot of fabric manipulation with tulle; in this case, I cut a lot of circles of tulle and overlaid them. The transparencies that overlap create different hues and tones. By shearing them, it creates this chaotic mess of colors. I also added these top-stitching threads, referencing tears. I gotta tell you: I haven’t cried this much since I was a teenager. For three weeks, my eyes were constantly red.

There are also exaggerated reproductive body parts, such as the breasts and the hips. Some pieces reference the womb, the vulva and the breast, using a technique that I developed in my third year. It’s done with thin layers of wadding that I sculpt with steam. I came across this video on YouTube, when they show you related searches in your explore page. It was a video on how to form a body on a mannequin. They were ripping large chunks of wadding and steaming it to create a belly on a mannequin for a pregnant lady, so that they could drape a dress that fits her. I saw this and realized that you could steam and melt wadding to sculpt it. That’s where it started from. And I made these big sculptural hats that cover the face in a reference to the sacredness of these prehistoric figurines. They didn’t have faces because they didn’t need faces – they were sacred beings.

In the beginning, I definitely felt like I didn’t really have a place. But it’s actually a very liberating feeling to do it at my own pace. If you look at the pieces, they’re quite focused on the craft. All the knits and all of the fabrics are handmade and experimental, which takes a very long time. It slows down the process, but I think that helped me focus on what’s really important. When you have a long time to focus on one thing, you have a lot of time to reflect and see why it’s needed, what the value is, or what you are bringing to the table. I actually quite like it now, but I do know that it’s not conventional. A lot of craft goes into it; it’s my way and I’m quite happy with it.

Oh, definitely, yes! Ego was a big reason why I left home. I wanted to find my voice. I wanted to find myself. And it was quite focused on me, me, me… I think it’s good because ego drives you. It brought me here. It brought me to this school. It gave me the courage to leave my comfort zone and go to a completely different place. I do think that it can be a positive thing, in a sense, but I think you need a balance. Ego also drove me very far from my parents, emotionally and physically. It really required this big conversation of healing for us to come back together.

It made me confront my past, which was like therapy, in some strange way. But it really helped me to gain a bigger understanding of vulnerability, how important this is, of communication, and empathy.

If you asked me this question when I first started the collection back in October, then I probably would have had a very different answer. I would have been very scared of the unknown. But after going through this whole process, it’s a bit exciting now. I’m going with the flow more. I’m excited to see what’s going to happen in the future. When I first started, I had no idea where this collection was going to take me. I had, of course, the idea, the inspiration behind it, and the message that I wanted to convey. But physically and visually, it was still very up in the air, which was quite scary for me because everything needed to fall into place. I had to keep reminding myself to breathe. It’s fine. But I’m quite excited to see what’s next now that I’m not in the bubble of the school anymore. It’s a bit scary, but the excitement definitely outweighs the fear.

Sam Quealy: Exactly. I felt like none of my music fit into any box. Even when I was writing it, it wasn’t really a specific genre. The reason why I call it techno-pop is because it’s harder than normal pop music, but it’s also not classic techno that you just listen to in a club. It’s still got a pop structure with the melody and the live performance, that’s why it’s a combination of techno and pop. But, again, it’s not classic techno at all, and I wouldn’t even say that it’s really pop, but when they come together, it creates the Sam Quealy sound. I didn’t really want to follow any rules. When I started writing songs, some people said they didn’t make sense because normally you have verse, chorus, verse. My songs don’t really have any structure. They’re very chaotic, but I like it that way. It’s entertaining and it’s just me. A chaotic, beautiful mess of music.

You can see my Australian roots in the sense that I’m very laid back and a bit trash; I was raving a lot there. And then, in terms of culture, fashion and a lot of my art direction was more shaped by my life in Paris, although I still have a few references from Australia. Once I moved to Paris, I was surrounded by so many different things that I wasn’t used to. I became a lot more inspired there, too. I just love it – the music, the fashion, and everything that I didn’t know before. It is so cool because they’re like, “Oh, do you know this or that artist?” and you have no idea, but next thing you know, you go down all these rabbit holes and discover so much new stuff. I have mixed them both together, and I’m proud of both being Australian, but also having a bit of a French identity as well now. When I went to America, they were like, “You’re my favorite French artist.” Merci beaucoup! [laughs] I’m so not French, but everyone associates me with it. So I’m happy to be French-Australian now.

I just want to make a show that is super entertaining. When I go to shows, I often feel bored. I wanted to make a show that grabs people from start to finish, with super high energy and lots of visuals. I basically just created my dream show. It’s very inspired by a lot of pop stars in the ’90s, where they had big dance numbers. I love to do costume changes and theatrical appearances. I love being extravagant and over the top. I think a lot of people in recent years went the opposite way. They wanted to strip everything back and just be alone with a guitar, really minimal and honest. Me, I want more, more, more! I want the full show. I want to really entertain. It’s a concert, of course, but it’s also a show, if you know what I mean.

I love telling a story and letting you escape your life and just go into this techno pop princess world. I choreographed it myself as well because I used to be a professional dancer before I was a singer. I already had the vision in my head of all the choreography while working on the EP. The styling, the choreography, everything is all me. Even though I’m on a small underground level now, it’s very honest because I’m just doing everything myself.

I love people when they’re just really honest and don’t give a fuck and they’re unapologetic in their art and in their music. That’s why I wanted to be honest in everything that I do and just have no filter, say whatever I want to say and do whatever I want to do. It’s also just a lot of fun. My shows are fun. I don’t take it too seriously. You can say it is political as well in some parts, but it’s also just a good time. I want everyone to have a good time and escape the world. That’s why I call Blonde Venus an apocalyptic album – it reminds me of the music you would listen to at the end of the world. I wrote it during COVID and I was in this nihilistic headspace. I imagined the apocalypse, with everyone just raving till the end. We may as well go down all naked, dancing together. It’s really got this underlying tone to it. To me, it’s the only way to go down!

I believe so. It’s about being yourself and owning yourself, being proud of who you are, basically, owning everything. My dancers are amazing. They’re giving everything, every show. It’s so much fun to be on tour with them. I’m really happy. I’m in a good mood today, too! Look at that view! [She flips her phone to reveal the lake of Montreux, Switzerland where she was performing the night before and introduces me to her dancer, Leonardo, who toured with her for the first time.] It’s a beautiful location for a first show. He and the other dancers stayed out partying until 6:30 AM! I went to all the nightclubs in the world, but yesterday, I was like: “Mom’s going home after the show.” But they are following the night! They have the blonde Venus spirit! You can’t imagine the adrenaline you get when you’re on stage. Even though it’s one hour and the music’s so fast and it’s so tiring, you forget about it and you just go into “possessed mode” – it really takes over your body.

Yeah, I grew up in nightlife. I was sneaking into clubs in Australia when I was 14. I was even dancing in nightclubs when I was 15. I just found it was such a good escape and somewhere that I could express myself. Whether you’re with people you don’t even know or you’re with friends, everyone’s just having this collective experience, forgetting everything and letting go. I think people are really themselves on the dance floor and they lose their inhibitions, which is really beautiful. Also, I met so many good and inspiring people during the nightlife, such as drag queens and my Vogue house. It really inspired me. I’m still a club kid at heart. Although I’m definitely not clubbing as much because I literally can’t with the tour, it made me who I am.

It’s been annoying lately because I feel like I have to really promote my songs and take it into my own hands to try to get it heard. I would love to just focus on the new music, but I’m spending a lot of time doing TikToks. I feel like now, you can’t just be a musician. You have to be good at marketing, good at social media. Even though it’s annoying as fuck, I also think it’s good in a way because it evens the playing field a bit more for people who wouldn’t have that opportunity. In the ’90s, you needed to get on MTV to succeed, whereas now, you can distribute your own song, you don’t need a label. It means that there are a lot more musicians out there, but as social media and technology advance, everyone has an equal opportunity now.

I reply to everyone in the comments! People on TikTok can be so nice and cute, or they can be savage. Some people are just so hectic, so homophobic, so everything. The comments are wild sometimes. I used to delete stuff, especially if it was super offensive, but I just leave everything there now so everyone can just see what’s happening. In the end, I feel worse for the trolls than for myself. It says more about them than it says about the person that they’re trolling.

I think that all of these have bad connotations attached to them, but it’s important to have a little bit of ego because otherwise, it means that you don’t respect yourself. To have ego, you need to be self-confident. My philosophy with all this stuff is that I really believe in being delulu. [laughs] If I don’t feel confident, I just tell myself that I feel confident. It’s not necessarily ego or narcissism, it’s more like: “I deserve to be here.” Reinforcing positive thoughts about yourself isn’t a bad thing. I say it to myself, I say it to the dancers, I say it to my fans. You should be nice to yourself the same way that you’re nice to your friends, the people you love, the people you respect.

There’s this thing in Australia that we call the “tall puppy syndrome.” For example, when someone compliments your song and instead of saying thank you, you say, “Oh, my God, it’s just a piece of shit. I did it in one second.” We all put ourselves down because it’s not cool to hype your own work. I’m trying to make it cool to accept a compliment. It’s not just about believing in yourself, you obviously have to not be a diva and an asshole. But I think to be an artist, you have to be a little bit delusional; otherwise, how can you go on stage in front of thousands of people? They can tell straight away if you’re a fake.

Florentina Leitner: I graduated in 2020, the year COVID hit. In the beginning, nobody knew how long it would last. We all hoped for a runway show at the Royal Academy instead of a digital presentation, but it was eye-opening to realize you can show your collection with a small budget by creating something online. From this limiting experience of not having a physical show, I made a movie, focusing more on visuals for social media and my website. Now, even when I do runway shows, I still produce videos and try to create magical photoshoots because I can reach more people that way, rather than only inviting a selected number to my physical event. We all learned to use the internet more and think of alternative ideas.

After my master’s, I started working for Dries Van Noten. Many people working from home realized it might be time for a change or switch careers. I had a friend in the embroidery team who realized during lockdown that he loved dogs and started a dog grooming salon. We had more time to think about what we really wanted. It made me realize that maybe I should start my own brand. I had good press feedback from my master’s collection. A store wanted to buy it, which was flattering since they sold Dries Van Noten as well. I thought, “Why not give it a try?” It grew organically. I hired my first intern, Margherita, and we started the production for that one store. Then, things went sour in my private life: My ex-boyfriend complained that I didn’t have much time for him. I then went through a breakup, so, when I got an email inviting me to show digitally at New York Fashion Week, it was the perfect timing. Margarita and I started a new collection and I fell in love with my current boyfriend. It was fun and gave me something to look forward to.

It’s important to have goals, especially during sudden changes. The situation being what it was allowed me to grow at a slower pace. Without it, I might have rushed into showing in Paris, spending a lot of money. Instead, I had time to build my portfolio and grow my social media presence. Now, I’m part of the Paris Fashion Week schedule, so everything fell into place after all.

It’s been a journey. I’ve been into fashion since I was very young and studied fashion design since I was 14. It was always important for me to find out what I liked. Of course, it changes over time. I always loved dressing up. My sister had an amazing closet with cool ’90s pieces like vintage Chanel items. I loved being in her closet. She also had incredible things from our grandparents; my grandmother had lots of ball gowns. This inspired me, showing me how fun fashion can be. It’s been a journey, and I’m always looking for new inspiration. Clothes constantly reflect our situation in the world. I get inspired by movies, events and trends. For example, my last collection was inspired by the Marie Antoinette movie, which I saw in the cinema when I was 12. The whole vibe of Sofia Coppola and the Baroque era inspires me. I try to create personal storytelling around my collections, integrating familiar places and garments from my life.

It’s true we live in a world where we have the internet and our phones accessible at all times, so we are always aware of trends. Sometimes I start a collection because I see something inspiring, like an expo or a pop culture event, and sometimes I start a collection based on something current or something that I think will become a trend. We’re all influenced by what’s happening around us and there are often overlaps. For example, I had a Joan of Arc collection, and the same season, Blumarine had a show in Milan that had the same inspiration.

It’s interesting to see that there is a vibe that different designers capture around the same time, but I think it’s important to create your own identity and not deliberately follow trends. You never know – people might find something ugly now, but it could be trending next season. [laughs] It happened a few times that my collections inspired others, but they looked different so I don’t really mind. Also, I find it interesting how certain themes become trendy.

I just love creating pieces that I can wear myself, although seeing people wear my designs is very fulfilling. It’s not just about being commercially successful; it’s about finding the right market. For example, we sell mainly in Asia, where people appreciate more kawaii, cutesy pieces. It’s challenging for me to reach the European market, but it’s more important to find your audience. At the end of the day, as much as I love extravagant show pieces, designing commercial pieces like T-shirts with a fun print comes naturally to me. I enjoy it. It’s weird if a designer dresses all in black while creating extravagant pieces. I like setting an example and showing how to style my designs for everyday wear. If I wouldn’t wear it, who would? It’s important to think about how a woman will feel in the clothes. Designing more commercial pieces is something I enjoy, and it makes sense for me. 

Austria is really relaxing for me, but sometimes too relaxed. Antwerp is the place where I grew up as a woman and found my identity, where most of my friends are, it’s my safe space. To push myself out of my safe space, I go to Paris. Paris is always centered around work, it has a lot of distractions, parties, meetings and friends, but it’s not the safe space that Antwerp is to me. Vienna is my roots, my childhood, the beautiful nature, which inspires me still. I’m proud of Austria and I love everything in Vienna. In the end, it’s all about balance. Antwerp is in the middle between Paris and Vienna. I love taking inspiration from my childhood and the things I’ve done, but it’s not always obvious.

For example, many collections start from a personal experience, like a summer vacation in Austria on the Moon Lake, but it’s never in your face. Speaking of the Moon Lake, I love the symbolism of names in Austria! Although I feed myself with those inspirations, I quickly detach them from where they are from and mix them up with things I’m currently interested in. I don’t wear lederhosen and dirndls myself, but I appreciate the traditional Austrian garments and embroideries. Low-key inspires me, too, but it’s maybe not so obvious. I like to pull things far away and make them contemporary. There’s a lot of nostalgia and references from different periods in my collections, giving them a vintage vibe. Overall, I would say it’s a mix of all three countries by now. Actually, I don’t know if it’s so French, but showing in prestigious venues in Paris might give that impression.

I asked my friends and my boyfriend if they think I have a big ego. They said: “Yeah, your brand is named after you.” [laughs] Initially, I thought it was negative, but then they said it’s actually healthy. Without a good portion of ego, it’s challenging to be happy, to enjoy things, and to have goals. That’s why I’m doing this for myself, to live life to the fullest and connect with the world through what I enjoy doing. If I didn’t have a healthy dose of ego, I wouldn’t be able to go to public events or talk about my work. My brand being named after me isn’t about vanity; it reflects my style and identity. Florentina means “flowering,” and I think it’s a fitting name. I didn’t have a better name for the label, and it was already in people’s minds.

I also remembered a great song called “Egoist” by the Austrian singer, Falco. I thought of it almost directly, you should listen to it! In the end, it’s important to have a sense of self. Ego shouldn’t overpower others, but it should enable you to live your life and make decisions. Ego helps you with that. Even if it’s sometimes delusional, these delusions can give you hope and confidence.

Lowri Cooper: It all started with my grandmother. She wasn’t a professional, but she painted watercolors her whole life. Growing up, we used to sit around a table and she would paint while I would try to copy her. Her works mainly depicted surrounding landscapes and local churches. She used to help both me and my brother with some of our school art projects. So, we did quite well in art classes. [laughs] Of course I also did my own stuff, but it was playful, so I would often ask for her help. As for fashion, I think my interest grew after visiting the V&A museum with my mother when I was around 12 or 13. That was really formative and led me to study design in school. I initially thought I wanted to be a fashion designer. I was obsessed with Gareth Pugh and his structural garments. I also vividly remember being so inspired by the Tim Walker exhibition titled Wonderful Things a few years ago.

Definitely! I did my A-level in textiles and was obsessed with architectural fashion and the idea of models as sculptures. I loved the hard lines and structures inspired by brutalism. Eventually, I realized I wanted to capture designs through my lens, to create and tell stories with fashion photography rather than through a collection.

I’ve always been interested in fantasy and escapism. When I chose a creative path, I knew this would bring me joy. I always aim to create visuals that offer some sort of escapism, which is why my images are so stylized and heavily produced. My effects are created by using both digital editing and physical effects while I’m shooting. I enjoy approaching things casually, using mirrors and other objects around the studio to achieve those distorted effects. There’s still a childlike playfulness in me, so I don’t feel pressured to do things “the traditional way” when I’m working on a project. I love experimenting, and that’s why I chose this path. In the end, it’s about having fun with your creativity.

I’m glad you think that. That’s one of the reasons why still life photography came naturally to me. I’ve always viewed models as sculptures, which made still life photography a natural fit as I can often push my experimentations further. It’s hard to describe, but it’s a very abstract way of seeing things.

I never studied photography formally; I’m self-taught. My brother, who used to shoot music videos while growing up, influenced me a lot. I don’t ever feel pressured to be conventional. I obviously do understand the technical side of photography, but I enjoy expressing myself through different mediums and techniques. Being self-taught often means getting crafty and convincing people that you know what you’re doing – I’m happy if it works. [laughs] Being self-taught also allows you to be more experimental and multifaceted. Although photography is my current focus, I enjoy all aspects of the creative process. Many of my projects are entirely my own work – though I also love collaborating with others as mutually recognizing talent can push you further.

Pontypridd is a small town in South Wales, part of the Rhondda Valleys, known for its industrial past. Growing up there meant being surrounded by lush landscapes as well as industrial settings. It was a unique juxtaposition that influenced my work. Creativity was often practiced behind closed doors, as illustrated by my grandmother’s story, but it shows that art exists in these places even if it isn’t always seen as a career. I knew I had to leave my hometown to experience new cultures and communities and make it on my own.

Absolutely. I felt I had to work harder to achieve my goals. At university, I was very intense and focused on my work. I knew that if I didn’t give it my all, it wouldn’t happen, but I was determined to make it regardless. Moving to London also gave me a newfound pride in being Welsh as being in a diverse environment made me want to represent my country and language. I regained fluency in Welsh, and meeting people from different backgrounds made me realize the importance of staying connected to my own roots. Many people see the UK as just England and maybe Scotland. Wales often gets forgotten. As I’ve grown older, I’ve become more confident in representing my culture and language. It’s taken me time to truly believe in what I’m saying, but now I do.

Ego is an interesting topic, especially in the digital age of social media. I’ve been thinking about how digital platforms affect our sense of authenticity. Sometimes, creating work that we know will receive likes can overshadow making authentic work. I try to avoid looking at Instagram when creating new work and focus on what feels relevant to me, so I listen to my own voice and march to the beat of my own drum. I believe we should all do that. But I also try not to let ego guide me. If we let go of ego, we can achieve true happiness. The aim is to create work authentically, without being ruled by ego.

I don’t think so… I’ve always acted on what I believe will make me happy. I chose this career because it brings me joy and fulfillment. While ego can play a part in my decisions, I try not to let it dominate them. 

Yes, it has. The digital era has somewhat killed our sense of authenticity. We need to focus on making work that is good, interesting, and has a level of concept or story behind it, rather than just seeking likes. Visibility is important, but it shouldn’t compromise authenticity. My goal is to create work that isn’t shaped by my ego. When working on set, I always respect everyone I collaborate with and value their talents, though this isn’t the case for all creatives. Collaboration should be about allowing everyone to shine and express their own voice. If ego gets in the way, it hinders the creative process. Coming from a small town motivated me to push my work harder and gain visibility, but it wasn’t easy. I think it’s given me a strong sense of self and a unique perspective that I hope always shines through in my photographs.