An American who arrived in Milan as a journalist, writing for publications and observing the city from the outside, she slowly found her way into it. Not by forcing it, but by paying attention. To the way women dressed, to the way homes were put together, to the colours, the layering, the confidence that Milan carries so effortlessly. Her book, Mama Milano, is exactly that. A personal, visual story of the city through her eyes. It moves between fashion, interiors, people, and moments, capturing a Milan that is not obvious, but lived in. You feel that she didn’t just visit the city, she absorbed it.

What I find most inspiring is that she didn’t start out as a designer. She built her world from instinct. From what she loved. From what she saw was missing. And at some point, that turned into something tangible, a brand, a store, a point of view that people now recognise. Her shop in Milan is a reflection of that. Strong, confident, unapologetically full of pattern and colour. It doesn’t try to please everyone. It simply is what it is.
And that is what makes it powerful.

There is also something else that runs through her work, something quieter. A belief in energy, in timing, in being in the right place at the right moment, but also being ready for it. Yoga, spirituality, a certain awareness that what we build is not just business, but something more personal. I relate to that.
Because sometimes, when you are building something, it feels like you are chasing a place, a moment, a version of your life that hasn’t fully formed yet.

I remember going to her shop in Milan, picking up Mama Milano, and thinking how beautifully everything came together. How natural it all seemed, even though you know it must have taken years.
And I have to admit, every time I’m in Milan, I look for her.
Just in case. Because I do believe that one day, paths cross when they are meant to.

Until then, it’s enough to be inspired by someone who followed her instinct, trusted her timing, and built something that feels entirely her own.