Elegance Is Knowing Your Worth

The Other Voice: You once said, “I want to bring back women’s strength through elegance.” But what does elegance actually mean to you?

Gelme: Elegance is knowing your worth. It is knowing who you are and taking the time to put yourself together from head to toe.

An elegant woman chooses every piece in her wardrobe carefully because it should express her individuality. She does not simply wear something because it is fashionable or because everyone else is wearing it. Her clothes and accessories should say something about who she is.

I remember talking with someone who told me, “I love the way French women dress.” They seem to understand and feel what works. They can add one small detail or pin to an outfit, and it transforms everything.

Elegance can never be defined by social status. Today, many people have money but do not necessarily have good taste. Wealth cannot give someone elegance.

Elegance is the status of knowing your own worth—and knowing how to present it.

The Other Voice: Not everyone would define elegance in exactly the same way. But in your definition, elegance is not really about fashion.

It is about self-respect.

Taking time with your appearance does not mean that you are trying to impress other people. It can mean that you value yourself enough to make thoughtful choices. Each piece becomes part of how you express your personality rather than a costume designed to display wealth.

Months ago, when you said you wanted to bring back women’s strength through elegance, I thought strength was the central idea.

Now I would shift the emphasis.

Perhaps your work is not about making women elegant. It is about celebrating the elegance already within them.

A scarf, hat, or coat cannot create genuine confidence. But it can give a woman another way to express the confidence, individuality, and self-respect she already possesses.

Gelme: Yes. Elegance has to come from knowing who you are. Clothing can express it, but it cannot replace it.

The Other Voice: Individuality seems to connect every stage of your creative life.

As a child, you wanted to be different. As a teenager, you made your own outfits. At the Hermitage, you were fascinated by extraordinary craftsmanship. Today, you create pieces that cannot be mass-produced.

The materials and techniques changed, but the underlying value remained the same: being true to yourself.

Not being different merely to attract attention.

Being different because you know who you are.

Perhaps that is what your work offers another woman—not a new identity, but a distinctive way to express her own.

And that leads to the next question:

What do you hope people remember about you one hundred years from now?

Not only about Gelme’s Designs, but about you.

If someone saw one of your coats or hats in a museum a century from now, what would you hope she understood about the woman who created it?