Behind the Magic
If Delphine could speak, I imagine she would serenade: “I am not here to be worn. I am here to be witnessed. I bloom where no one expects me to.”
What she taught me: Delphine reminded me that creation doesn’t need permission. That beauty can be bold, rooted, and unapologetically strange. She was my first muse in the North — and she still whispers to me when the studio is quiet.
The reaction: Delphine wasn’t just a mannequin. She was a manifesto. A declaration that art can be alive, that fashion can be feral, and that even in the coldest corners of the world, something wild can grow.
Becoming me
There’s a kind of magic that lives in the North — a quiet, frost-kissed resilience that seeps into everything it touches. When I first arrived, the landscape felt like a blank canvas stretched wide beneath a sky that never quite settled. It was here, in this raw and rugged place, that L’atelier Sauvage took its first breath.
My first project?
A mannequin, but not the kind you’d find in a shop window. This one was alive.
Her name was Delphine.
She stood in the studio like a forest spirit — part sculpture, part garden, part rebellion against the sterile and the expected. Delphine was a full-bodied form wrapped in moss, sedum, and stonecrop, her curves blooming with hardy greens that could withstand the northern chill. She didn’t just wear nature — she embodied it.
Why succulents?
Because they thrive where others falter. Because they store life in their leaves. Because they remind me that beauty doesn’t have to be delicate — it can be tough, tenacious, and wild.
The process
I started with a vintage dress form, stripped it down, and built it back up with wire mesh and soil pockets. Each plant was chosen not just for its texture and color, but for its story — alpine varieties that echo the terrain outside my window, desert cousins that speak of survival. The final touch was a crown of echeveria, like a northern queen in bloom.
The reaction
Locals were curious. Some called her strange. Others called her stunning. But everyone stopped to look. And that, to me, was the point — to make people pause, to make them feel something unexpected.
Delphine wasn’t just a mannequin. She was a manifesto. A declaration that art can be alive, that fashion can be feral, and that even in the coldest corners of the world, something wild can grow.
