Some pieces begin with a sketch.
This one began with a conversation.

Years ago, at The Beverly Hills Hotel — The Pink Palace — he and I were both staying there. One warm evening in The Polo Lounge, he walked over to my table, cocktail in hand, and said the words every designer secretly loves to hear:

“Man… I love that shirt.”

I was wearing a silk piece inspired by the hotel’s iconic Banana Leaf wallpaper — that lush, unapologetically glamorous pattern that practically defines old Hollywood excess. Palm shadows, candlelight, that low Polo Lounge hum. The whole scene just worked.

He’s a cool cat. Effortless. The kind of man who doesn’t chase attention — he owns the room without trying. And he wanted something no one else had.

So I made one for him.

Same spirit. Same Beverly Hills energy. But cut and tailored specifically for him — semi-loose, liquid silk satin, luminous under evening light. A shirt that catches candles the way champagne catches flash bulbs. A shirt that doesn’t whisper luxury — it understands it.

Over the years, he’s ordered more pieces. Always singular. Always personal. He doesn’t do “off the rack.” He does story, presence, identity.

He wants something no one else has.

(Alright — I have one too. But he’s gracious enough to allow that.)

This shirt is more than fabric.
It’s a memory of The Pink Palace.
Of late nights at The Polo Lounge.
Of confidence, conversation, and that unmistakable Beverly Hills glow.

Some garments you wear.
Some garments carry a moment with them.

No. He’s not gay. So we didn’t live happily efter after.

Clients who also become friends is a special blessing.