When you enter the small office on rue Dieu in the 10th arrondissement of Paris, the atmosphere feels lived-in and intentionally modest, decorated with vintage finds and African pieces. Born in 1941 and raised near Versailles, she wears a mixture of history and immediacy: a designer, collector and philanthropist who founded her label in 1975. She deliberately prefers the lowercase sign for her brand, but in conversation she is emphatic and warm, the kind of interlocutor who remembers street names, films and the precise cut of a cardigan with press-studs that became a worldwide reference. Her commitments run alongside her clothes: long-standing support for migrants, the homeless and people living with HIV has never been an accessory.
Her creative stance is simple and direct: she prizes durability and an understated elegance that resists fashion’s rapid cycles. Walking the streets by the Canal Saint-Martin or observing students near the Sorbonne, she finds the raw material for new work in the way younger people assemble a few items into a clear silhouette. For her, style is a practice rather than a trend, and that conviction shapes both the garments and the cultural projects she champions. Exhibitions of artists such as Malick Sidibé and Frédéric Bouabré attest to her interest in visual culture beyond runways, a bridge between clothes and broader expressions of identity.
Sources of inspiration and the language of clothes
When asked about recent menswear collections, she speaks in cinematic images: black-and-white frames, the New Wave and an early photograph of Jean-Paul Belmondo in tweed, a dark tie and a white shirt. That visual archive helps her translate youth culture into garments that are practical and timeless. She describes playing with proportions like one arranges dolls, favoring pieces that endure—jeans and classic outerwear—because longevity matters. The label’s signature items aim at a balance between functionality and a specific attitude, often summarized as rock chic, a term she uses to suggest rebellion cushioned by elegance rather than provocation.
For her, Parisian elegance is never ostentatious. It is the quiet geometry of a well-cut jacket, the freedom of a garment that fits into many lives. She insists men’s dressing interests her: she prefers designing for men and enjoys the structural challenges that menswear presents. Yet she also wants to see talent emerge from beyond the capital, stressing that beauty and inventiveness are not confined to Paris. That conviction underpins some of her collaborations and the way she hires people who understand the history of clothing and its social meanings.
Politics, faith and a lifetime of commitments
Her political formation was shaped early: childhood memories of wartime France, the sounds of soldiers in Versailles, and the later debates around the Algerian war that pushed her toward the left. She recounts friendships with publishers and activists, notably her relationship with Christian Bourgois, whose initial presence inspired the brand’s name. Through those circles she encountered figures such as Pierre Mendès France, with whom she shared meals and political conversation. Activism became concrete: she introduced free condoms in her shops during the early days of the HIV crisis and participated in demonstrations for undocumented people, including the 1996 movement around the Saint-Bernard church.
Positions and proposals
She is frank about contemporary politics: the current left does not entirely reflect her instincts, which favor more vocal stances against the extreme right. She imagines a new formation centered on social justice and ecology—an idea she calls the PSE, the social and ecological bet—and argues that the wealthy should contribute their fair share in taxes rather than using fiscal loopholes. On other social matters, she supports the legalization of teuchi (a colloquial term she uses) while distinguishing cannabis from cocaine, which she bluntly says “makes people stupid.” She names figures like François Ruffin among contemporary politicians she respects, while expressing fatigue with others who no longer speak to her.
Faith, optimism and a persistent message
Despite a career at the heart of cultural industries, she remains candid about the role of religion in her life: faith sustains her optimism. Daily gratitude and a fondness for Saint John recur in her reflections; she describes reading scripture as akin to following a report on someone you love. Love itself remains the linchpin: she revived a Give Love slogan years after its first use because, to her, the message never ages. Whether through clothing, exhibitions or political action, the constant refrain is that acts of generosity and attention matter as much as garments, and that love—alongside clear, concrete solidarity—might still change things.