Isis Dunya

EIP: How did you start your career in fashion? What inspired you to enter that field?

DUNYA: I started my brand eight years ago, after a trip to Lebanon. I moved to Beirut and felt a strong need to create a brand that truly represents my community. I saw that fashion was full of cultural appropriation and driven by capitalism, and I wanted to create something that looked like me, felt like us, and brought us together.

EIP: You made everything yourself, so every piece has your special touch, which is rare when it comes to fashion these days. Tell us about your process.

DUNYA: When I started this brand, I didn’t have many resources at first, which actually became a blessing. It allowed me to handle everything myself and fully express my identity and way of thinking through each piece. I choose the fabrics, make the patterns, and do the fittings and adjustments. I also do the photography, artistic direction, casting, production — sometimes even the catering during shoots! Over the years, I’ve started collaborating with freelancers, but I still carry most of the workload myself. This way of working has given me real independence and freedom. Producing everything in my own studio, making it in Paris, and fighting against fast fashion is a daily battle, but it’s also a strong commitment that defines my brand.

EIP: What’s the connection between sustainability and fashion for you?

DUNYA: As an Arab woman, I’ve always been deeply affected by the vicious cycle we get trapped in as part of the so-called “global South.” We end up supporting fast fashion, even luxury fashion, without realizing that behind these brands, there’s often the same exploitation — usually of racialized and marginalized people. Whether it’s a cheap fast fashion piece or an expensive luxury item, it’s still built on the same system of overproduction and exploitation.

It frustrates me to see how we become both victims of and active participants in this system instead of supporting our own designers or finding alternative ways of producing and consuming fashion. Especially for marginalized communities, fast fashion is often the only accessible option, which makes the problem even more complex.

That’s why I created my brand: as a way to break this cycle, reclaim our power, and propose a more conscious, community- based approach to fashion.

EIP: Where do you find inspiration?

DUNYA: I’m of Turkish and Algerian origin, born and raised in Paris. As a child, I traveled to Algeria often, but during my teenage years, I had to stop going because of family reasons. That distance really shaped me. It pushed me to look deeper into anti-capitalist ideas, traditional clothing, and non-Western cultures.

I’ve always felt different. Even in middle school, I had my own style; I wasn’t like everyone else. I was fascinated by how clothes can express someone’s singularity and personality. My inspiration comes from everywhere: Paris, my travels, and my neighborhoods. I live in the suburbs, in the 93 — the poorest department in Paris, often labeled as “no-go zones.” But for me, it’s home, and it’s full of life and beauty.

The people the fashion world ignores are the ones who inspire me most: an aunt going to the market in her traditional robe, a family dressing up in matching outfits for Eid, an uncle going to the mosque with his cane and a pop culture T-shirt. I don’t care about runways, about “clean girl” aesthetics, or what’s trending on the Left Bank. I care about real people and real stories. That’s where my creativity truly lives.

EIP: How does your Arab culture in Paris come to life in your work?

DUNYA: My Arab culture is everywhere in my work. I love going to local markets in Montreuil or in my neighborhood, wearing a djellaba and feeling fully myself. What I love most is being able to show both sides of me: one night I can go to a fancy party in a mini skirt and heels, and the next day I’m in a djellaba and Nike TNs.

My personality is built on these two worlds: being a “baddie” and being a girl from the hood. In France, there’s a real problem with how Arab women are seen. The term beurette, for example, is a very negative, fetishizing word that reduces Arab women to stereotypes. Through my work, I wanted to destroy these codes and show that we can be whoever we want to be.

We can be glamorous, sexy, and modest all at once. We don’t have to fit into a box that society or the fashion world wants to put us in. For me, it’s about the freedom to be yourself without caring about the gaze of others.

I also had to fight against patriarchy within my family to get the freedom I have today, and I’m proud of that fight. Through my clothes, I want my community to feel the same: come as you are, be what you want to be, and don’t let anyone define you.

EIP: You have such wonderful energy. What words do you live by?

DUNYA: I truly feel guided by a force since I started this brand. Even though it’s extremely hard to survive as an independent label, I know my work has a real purpose. When I see how women leave my studio — empowered, seen, and represented — I know why I do this.

I created this brand so that racialized women, women who wear the veil, women with curves, and women who want to feel sexy can finally feel understood and included. No other brand has done what I do; deciding that each woman is different and that all deserve to be accepted and celebrated.

Even after seven years, I have no regrets. My work is meaningful, and so many women see themselves in it. That’s what keeps me going every day. I’m deeply passionate, I aim high, and I know in ten years, I’ll be even further.

Humility and honesty also guide me. My work is honest; I never compromise on my vision or my values. That’s what keeps me true to myself and to my community.

EIP: If you could be the creative director of a fashion house, which one would it be and why?

DUNYA: I would choose Jean Paul Gaultier. In the ‘90s, his approach was so punk and revolutionary — he put Black, Arab, and queer people on the runway at a time when no one else dared to. For me, he’s a designer who has always stayed close to the people.

In terms of values and energy, it’s the house that resonates with me the most. It feels authentic, inclusive, and bold — just like what I try to express in my work.