I have always believed a life can be stitched together like a garment, panel by panel, season by season, threads of memory running through it all. When I think about MAIKAI, I don’t see a company. I see a long cutting table in morning light, a kettle steaming in the corner, a stack of handloom swatches soft as breath, and a small circle of women speaking in the language of making. This is where my life as an artist and entrepreneur overlaps so completely that I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
My work at MAIKAI, exists because of collaboration. Behind every piece that bears my name are the women who helped bring it into being. The weavers than painstakingly transform cotton threads to textiles on the loom, our master ji (one who transforms from sketch to pattern, multiple tailors who stitch your MAIKAI part by part, the finishing and packaging ladies, the woman who supports this whole unit, the photographers who bring my vision to life and my muses.
The photographers I work with are not simply hired hands documenting finished work. They are co-creators, bringing their own artistic voice to the conversation. When a photographer arrives with her equipment, her particular way of seeing, she becomes part of the creative lineage of that piece.
Freda, my photographer shoots Kavita, my muse for MAIKAI Autumn'25
One summer I worked with a photographer who shot exclusively on film. The slowness of the process felt radical in our instant world. We had to be intentional about every frame, every angle. There were no thumbnails to scroll through, no immediate gratification. We waited days to see what we had captured. In that waiting, I learned patience as a business principle. The market wants everything now, but the best work comes from allowing things to mature in their own time.
The muses who move through my studio bring something equally vital. They arrive carrying their own stories, their particular embodiment, their way of inhabiting space. When someone agrees to be photographed wearing a piece from the collection, they lend their energy to the garment. They complete a circuit that began months earlier, when the first sketch whispered itself into existence, when the fabric was sourced, when the pattern was cut.
This is what collaboration means. It means making space for other people to bring their whole selves into the work. It means recognizing that my vision becomes richer when filtered through someone else's experience. A photographer might suggest we shoot in harsh midday light instead of golden hour, completely changing how the textures read. A muse might move differently than I directed, revealing something about the garment I had not seen on the hanger. The women I work with teach me constantly about resilience, beauty, complexity. They show me what it means to be fully alive in a female body navigating this world.
For years, I had a complicated relationship with money. I absorbed the narrative that ethical artists must suffer for their work, that commercial success somehow corrupts creative purity. I watched talented women undersell their collections, apologize for their prices, shrink themselves to fit into a marketplace that already undervalues feminine labor. I saw designers hemorrhaging money on production while charging barely above cost, as if profit were a dirty word. That includes me.
Then something shifted. I realized that money is simply energy, a tool for exchange. Like paint or clay, it has no inherent morality. What matters is how we use it, how we allow it to move through our lives.
I began to see wealth not as something to hoard but as something to circulate. I enjoy working with other artists through fair energy exchange. When I pay a photographer generously for her time and talent, I am not just compensating labor. I am acknowledging value. I am saying: your work matters, your vision is essential, your contribution is worthy of financial recognition. That money does not disappear into a void. She uses it to pay her rent, buy equipment, take her own creative risks. It moves through the ecosystem, nourishing other endeavours.
Kavita Changes from Reverie Dress Primrose to Primrose Swim & Intimates
The same principle applies to how I price my own collections. For too long, I played small. I charged what I thought people would pay rather than what my peices were worth. I confused accessibility with underselling. I forgot to account for the hours of pattern development, the multiple samples, the sourcing trips, the overhead. But when I began pricing with confidence, something remarkable happened. The right people found the work. Those who understood the value of thoughtful design, of quality fabrication, of pieces made to last beyond a season, stepped forward. It is still an ongoing process. I am still recovering. However, my relationship with money goes only upwards from here.
There is a particular kind of client who appears when you price with integrity. They respect the work because they respect themselves. They understand that a well-made garment requires investment. They read the care labels, store pieces properly, have them altered to fit perfectly. These relationships become long-term partnerships rather than transactional exchanges. They return season after season. They refer other like-minded people. They become advocates for the brand in ways that no marketing campaign could manufacture.
One of my favorite affirmations has become a guiding principle: the universe loves to bless other people through my pockets. I say this to myself when writing checks to collaborators, when investing in materials, when donating to causes that align with my values. It reminds me that I am not the endpoint but a conduit.
This understanding has transformed how I approach business decisions. Every financial choice becomes an opportunity to direct energy where it needs to go. When I wholesale to other women-owned boutiques, I am not just moving inventory. I am supporting other entrepreneurs, creating relationships, building a network of mutual support. When those shop owners succeed, when they sell through their orders and come back for more, we all succeed. The rising tide lifts all boats.
I think about the women who came before me, who fought for the right to own property, to have bank accounts in their own names, to participate in commerce without male permission. Their struggles paved the way for this moment, where I can build a business entirely on my own terms. Honoring that legacy means using my economic power thoughtfully.
Of course, circulation requires not just giving but receiving. This has been my harder lesson. Women are socialized to give endlessly, to nurture others at our own expense. We are taught that wanting things for ourselves is selfish, that ambition is unfeminine, that we should be grateful for whatever scraps come our way.
Creative Direction & Video for the Capsule
Learning to receive has required conscious practice. When someone compliments my work, I say thank you instead of deflecting. When a client tells me how much a piece means to them, I take it in rather than minimizing the achievement. When money arrives, whether from a sale or an unexpected opportunity, I welcome it as confirmation that I am on the right path.
There is a particular joy in watching the business grow, in seeing months of work translate into financial stability. It means I can take risks on new fabrications, experiment with more complex construction techniques. It means I can pay collaborators even more generously. It means I can weather slow seasons without panic, can say no to wholesale accounts that want unsustainable discounts, can maintain the integrity of the brand. This stability is the foundation that allows creativity to flourish.
Running a slow fashion business as a woman designer means navigating terrain that few maps adequately describe. There are days when the administrative work feels suffocating, when I long for the simplicity of just draping and stitching. But then I remember: this business is itself a creative act. Every system I build, every process I refine, every relationship I nurture is part of the larger artwork of a life well lived. Negotiating with artisan partners, managing cash flow, planning production timelines, these are all part of the design process.
The women I collaborate with understand this implicitly. We are all building something together, a new model for how fashion can exist in the world. We reject the starving artist mythology. We claim our right to be compensated fairly. We support each other's success because we know there is enough for everyone. When a photographer I have worked with shoots for a major brand, I celebrate genuinely. When a muse launches her own line, I promote it enthusiastically. We are all threads in the same tapestry, each one necessary to the larger pattern.
Some mornings, I stand in my studio and feel overwhelmed by gratitude. Racks of finished garments wait to be shipped, bolts of new fabric lean against the wall holding future possibilities. The fact that I get to do this work, that people value it enough to exchange their hard-earned money for pieces I have designed, that I can support other women in the process, feels like a Divine blessing. The path from novice designer to successful entrepreneur has been neither linear nor easy. It required unlearning toxic beliefs about money, developing business skills that no fashion school teaches, and learning to advocate for myself in spaces that were not designed with women like me in mind.
But here I am, still standing, still creating, still collaborating. The work evolves but the core remains the same. Make beautiful things. Work with inspiring women. Let money flow freely in all directions. Trust that there is enough. Trust that my contribution matters. Trust that the universe delights in providing when I show up fully to my purpose.
The studio door opens. Another collaborator arrives, camera in hand, ready to co-create. We brew more tea. We discuss vision and light and angles. And when the shoot is done and the invoice is paid, the energy continues its journey outward, touching other lives, creating ripples I will never fully see.
Wearing the first edition of the Aurora dress, while Kavita wears the Aurora Sleeved Butter Yellow
This is the work. This is the life. This is what it means to be both artist and entrepreneur, to refuse the false choice between creative integrity and financial success, to build wealth by building community, to trust that money loves to circulate through open hands.
The universe is always ready to bless other people through my pockets. I just keep showing up, keep creating, keep collaborating, keep allowing the flow to move through me. That is enough. That has always been enough.
Discover Freda's work here.
Discover Kavita here.
Discover handloom cotton dresses, swim & intimates in our new Autumn '25- Keepers of Light Capsule here.