Parade 01: is a clothing line practicing Gonzo couture -- a movement started by Rashid Ibrahim, where the story crafts the silhouette.

The first collection is Garage to Runway: thobes, abayas and suits that still have grease under the nails, cut from deadstock dragged out of Ajman. Six months on the rack, then the archive takes it and nobody gets it back. Discarded cloth, discarded people -- same idea twice, and none of it is going in the bin.

The forms come from where we live. Thobes and abayas meet suits and long coats, tradition crossed with the street. Everything is cut from deadstock found in the city's own markets and sewn by local hands: material someone gave up on, given a second life. 

Two creative directors, two collections a year. Day, for Spring and Summer, by Athul Gopal. Night, for Autumn and Winter, by Hisana Majid. Each collection is numbered and lives for one season. See it now, buy it now. After six months it goes to the archive, and it does not come back. 

Volume 01: "Garage to Runway"
Day collection 2027, Spring/Summer
4 chapters, 21 men's and 25 women's silhouettes

I was a mechanic before I was anything else Porsche technician,
grease to the elbow and a torque wrench for a pen.
Garage to Runway is every turn my life took since,
cut from deadstock nobody wanted. Screw heads for buttons.
The checkered flag on a lapel. Some dirt left on, on purpose.
I have struck out most of what I ever started.
This one I am keeping.
Crossed over, yet not to be discarded.

Athul Gopal

In this chapter I wanted to reflect the place I live in, and to appreciate its cultures between the million frames a second that scroll past my eyes every day. In Dubai, cultures swirl up like a hurricane, and here I am, the dancing kite. I took the silhouettes I loved growing up and wove them into the culture around me. Thobes, from around the world. athul

To the next chapter. There was a hidden silhouette in the suit I wore, trying to break out every time I left a conference. I felt the way a sculptor must feel carving marble. Sophistication, I learned, isn't a preference. It's a discipline shaped by where we live. This chapter is the release from the choke at the throat.

Anna isn't one woman. She's every woman who built herself, by hand, from nothing.

No letter is gonna flatter you, my lady,
No rose grows in a desert, you might say.
The boundaries light can reach are always
beyond what any human, any being, can fathom.
Let me entangle that quantum with your favorite piece of cloth.
Eight coats I made from
eight machines I adore.

The world needs more female engineers, so I dressed them for it. These are abayas cut like office wear, with suit lapels and tailored sleeves. The silhouette is structured, light as an abaya, bold as a suit, and made to wear over anything. Balance is shared work: men should know it's no big deal, and women should know it can be hard at times. Until we learn to reverse entropy, let's find peace in seeking harmony, even if it doesn't exist.