You used to say, “We should all feel comfortable both in the woods and at tea with the Queen.” I think of that often. You embodied both wildness and refinement.

I still remember the seamstress’ boutique, where you would take me as a child — a place that barely exists now. That’s where I learned about garments dreamed up for a person, not a market. Meant to be cherished. Known by the hands that made them. Remembered.

You never rushed. Never forced. You made time bend to your rhythm. That’s the spirit I carry into this work: slow, personal, real.

You passed down more than technique. You passed down a way of seeing. A love for material. A belief in magic — not the kind in fairy tales, but the kind we make with our hands. And more than anything, you moved through the world soft and certain at once, showing me that kindness is a quiet form of power.

When I design, I think of you. Of how you showed me that elegance isn’t about perfection — it’s about presence.

Magata holds your memory.

A space where beauty is made slowly. Where nothing is too small to matter.

Thank you for teaching me that to create is to care — and that style lives not in what we wear, but in how we move through life.

With all my love,
Marina