Looking back now, the journey to launching SHE OFFICIEL was less of an “aha” moment and more of a slow, winding evolution. While studying Fashion Marketing in Shanghai, I was secretly yearning to switch to the Fashion Design program. My father, however, strongly opposed any creative career path, believing it wouldn’t offer a stable future. So, I stayed in my lane—sort of.
I managed to befriend a fashion history lecturer who also taught design, and when she mentioned an upcoming student show, I eagerly asked to be involved. With zero sewing experience, I draped fabrics that I purchased from Shanghai’s vibrant cloth markets and fell in love with textures, colours, and prints.
Fashion design opened the door, but I soon realized I lacked the discipline for tailoring. My mother even hired a Chinese dressmaker to teach me at home. But the technical rigidity of measurements and pattern-making stripped away the creativity I craved. So, I pivoted again—to fashion photography. Assisting well-known fashion photographers in Shanghai was thrilling, but once more, I got bogged down in the technical aspects.
In between experimenting with various creative pursuits, I was always sketching shoes, which have always been an obsession of mine.. As a child, I remember how my mum would receive dainty childrenswear catalogs in the mail, and I would circle every sparkly shoe I wanted. Unlike dresses, shoes felt different to me—like something I could build a lasting creative relationship with.
It wasn’t until I moved to London that I started taking this creative pursuit more seriously. I saved up enough money to create my first prototype and connected with a manufacturer in Italy’s famed Marche region. The experience was painful - miscommunications dragged the process out for seven months, and the final prototype, while visually exciting, was entirely unwearable. Still, I learned so much.
I took many pauses while building SHE OFFICIEL—life, as it does, got in the way. I needed a steady income, so work took priority. Then I had my first child, and my creative pursuits naturally took a back seat. But in the quieter moments, I’d find time to sketch, to imagine, and eventually, to create again. That’s when I began working with a small footwear studio in China. This time, I was clearer about my vision—more decisive about what I wanted to bring to life. My sample developer understood that, and together, we finally created something that felt aligned.
Momentum started to build, and I placed what would become my biggest investment yet into inventory. It felt like everything was falling into place.
Then the pandemic hit.
Manufacturing came to a standstill. We couldn’t source the fabrics or components needed to finish the designs. Some materials were indefinitely out of stock, and progress became a long, uncertain waiting game. I felt the weight of frustration settle in—watching something I’d worked so hard to revive again, just as it was beginning to take shape.
At that point, I was exhausted. I wasn't getting my money back, nor the order I’d placed. I felt defeated and drained.
And yet, the samples from China reminded me of something: obstacles, while unwelcome, are often the very thing that sharpen us. They force growth. They build resilience. They redirect us—if we’re willing to listen - and if you do, they may even open doors to other opportunities. So I sat with it. I let the experience teach me. I learned to communicate better. I let go of the fear of trusting the wrong people and instead focused on building real relationships—with partners, not just suppliers.
After a much-needed pause, I started searching again. But this time, I didn’t rely on traditional sourcing methods or referrals. I followed visual intuition. I searched Instagram, Pinterest—any platform where I could see the work, feel the craftsmanship through the screen, and connect with something that resonated deeply.
That’s when I found it. A small, passionate atelier in Ukraine. They weren’t just willing to take on my project despite my small budget and three rough samples—they were excited by it. They didn’t just understand my creative vision—they shared it. Their philosophy mirrored mine: small-batch, handcrafted, intentional. Every pair of shoes is treated not as a product, but as a personal story. A piece of expression. A piece of art - timeless essentials that would last beyond a season.
At SHE OFFICIEL, we don’t rush. We’re not fast fashion. We're not in stock now, and we’re okay with that. Every sequin, bead, and panel is sewn and hammered by hand—because we care deeply about what we’re making and who we’re making it for.
Our shoes aren’t for everyone. But for those who crave meaning behind the things they wear—who want something crafted with emotion, story, and precision—we’re here to make your dream shoe, slowly, beautifully, and just for you.
What I’ve learned through every delay, every misstep, and every pause is this: slowness doesn’t mean you're stuck—it means you're learning. The moments where I thought I was falling behind were the very moments that gave me clarity. Those pauses? They weren’t wasted—they were vital.
Because sometimes, you have to slow down in order to go forward.
And sometimes, it’s the obstacles that become your most powerful fuel.
