Q: Iceland is a location remote from the main centres of business and fashion. Why do you choose to live there?

A: It is small, quiet and cold. The air is excellent and the water is better. The pools are clean. There is snow. Many great friends.

And the offensive limitation on material has really chopped away at the ability to rely on a material or gimmick as a feature.
The idea has to go further and clearer, the concept can’t be written up on a plaque next to the object, the whole thing needs to be cut-throat sharp and just as menacing.

Q: Many of your clothes evoke disturbing images — post-Apocalyptic future, Siberian labour camps. Are you an optimist? Is there a part of you that is exuberant and romantic?

A: I am a closet romantic. It isn’t really very well hidden though.

A post-apocalyptic/Gulag labour camp is really quite an intense vision of struggle for survival and hope. It is a life where any one thing could mean a world to you. A pair of boots lasts a life, a good coat keeps you from hypothermia. Food is the difference between friends and thieves, hard tech and networks keep the world running.

Raw black visions of a burnt white world of solitude and severity.

These are beautiful images, often captured by our modern photographers who love industrial barren landscapes and calcified burnt junk form visions of the oncoming.

I like this future more than the crystal dolphin utopia-land version. Maybe struggle is my vision of romance.