When the Client Doesn't Know What They Want Yet

Some of the most interesting projects start with a version of the same sentence: we know something needs to change, about the uniforms, we're just not sure what.

It sounds uncertain. For me, it's one of the best briefs I can receive.

When a client arrives with a fully formed vision, the work is essentially execution. You follow the direction, refine the details, deliver the result. That's satisfying in its own way, but it limits the creative process in the design. When a client arrives with a precise idea of what they want, down to the colour and the cut — increasingly shaped by references found online or generated with AI tools — we like to bring our vision in as a third option. Because after years in this field, we sometimes know that what someone has in mind might not be the right fit for their environment, their team, or the story they're trying to tell. We start this part of the conversation gently and with care, and it requires honesty and trust. But it's often where the best work begins.

When someone comes to you with a feeling, a sense that the current uniforms no longer reflect who they are, or that something is slightly off without being able to name it, that's where the real conversation starts.

Most people can't describe what they want in clothing until they see it, touch it, or watch someone else wear it. This is as true in corporate fashion as it is anywhere else. A hotel director might say the uniforms feel dated, but what they mean is that the silhouette no longer matches the atmosphere they've worked hard to create. A brand manager might say they want something more modern, but what they're really asking for is coherence. A visual language that feels intentional rather than assembled.

Our role, in those early conversations, is asking the right questions. What does the space feel like? How does the team move through it? What do guests say, and what do they feel without saying? What already exists in the brand, in the interior, the materials, the tone of service, that the uniform should be in conversation with?

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These questions rarely have immediate answers. But they start to reveal something. A word that keeps coming up. A reference that resonates. A reaction to a fabric swatch that tells you more than a mood board ever could.

There is a particular moment in every creative exchange, whether it happens in our atelier, at the client's premises, or somewhere in between, when all of a sudden the dynamic changes. It might happen when a team member tries on a sample and the room goes quiet in a good way. Or when someone points to a detail, a collar, a texture, a proportion, and says that, more of that. Those moments are the result of a process designed to surface what was already there, waiting to be articulated.

This is also why we like to present innovative samples we have made and involve our Fashion Fellows early. A fresh perspective, unburdened by the internal assumptions a client carries about their own brand, often sees things that neither the client nor we would find alone. The Fellow might arrive with a reference that seems unexpected, and then suddenly the room understands something it couldn't quite name before.

Not knowing what you want is not a weakness in a brief. It's an invitation. It means the project hasn't been decided before it's begun. There's room to find something genuinely right and new, rather than something that simply ticks the boxes.

The collections that come out of these processes tend to be the ones people talk about and stay relevant over years. The ones that make a team feel something when they put them on. The ones that guests notice without knowing exactly why.

Because when something fits, really fits, you stop noticing it. And that's exactly the point.

-       Veronika