There are pieces that never leave you. Not because they’re perfect, but because they carry a certain truth. The Caveau was born from that feeling. From years of creating, archiving, and realizing that the most meaningful garments are not the newest, but the ones that survived, the ones that still whisper stories when you touch them.

For me, The Caveau is not a sale. It’s a reunion. A private vault where unique pieces from past collections live again. Each one is hand-treated, unrepeated, marked by time, and by the hands that shaped it. They’ve walked through my history: prototypes, one-offs, test pieces, experiments. What they all share is intention, that quiet, invisible thread that connects my past and present work.

When I open The Caveau, I open my archive, not as a museum, but as a living dialogue. I’ve always believed that true luxury is not about owning what’s new, but cherishing what lasts. These garments are rare, not because of their price or trend, but because they’re unrepeatable. They belong to moments of intuition, to emotions I could never reproduce in the same way again.

Every imperfection on them tells a story, of a decision made by instinct, of a fabric that reacted unexpectedly, of a hand that pressed too long or too softly. These are not flaws. They’re gestures. They’re life.

If you hold one, you hold a fragment of my journey, a trace of process, time, and emotion. And if you choose to wear it, it becomes part of yours.

That’s what The Caveau means to me: a space for continuity, for memory, for authenticity. A small rebellion against disposability, and a celebration of things that still have a pulse.