I was born in 1988 in Saint-Hyacinthe, on Montreal’s South Shore. As far back as I can remember, I have always been a deeply creative child. I often spent time alone, immersed in my own world, inside a creative bubble where imagination played a huge role. I would spend hours drawing, making things by hand, and building imaginary worlds. Creating was a natural way for me to express myself, but also, I think, a way to escape reality in my own way.

That creativity took an unexpected direction when I was 10 years old.

One day, I discovered my mother’s old Singer sewing machine tucked away under the stairs in our family basement. The moment I found it, something immediately caught my attention. I became fascinated—not only by the machine itself, but by everything it could create.

At that time, Pokémon was everywhere. Like many kids of my generation, I was completely immersed in that universe. I started making Pokémon plushies. I would spend my time analyzing the characters, trying to understand their shapes and recreate them with the tools I had. I didn’t realize then that this discovery would become the beginning of a long relationship with sewing.

Unfortunately, that passion wasn’t always well received.

At school, sewing wasn’t considered a typical hobby for young boys. I experienced a lot of bullying because of it. At the time, I didn’t really understand why something that brought me so much joy could trigger such negative reactions from others.

Over time, that pressure had an impact.

During my teenage years, I completely stopped sewing. I started playing guitar, skateboarding, and redirecting my creativity toward activities that allowed me to fit in more socially. In a way, I was trying to align myself more with the standards and expectations of that time in order to find my place.

But despite all of those changes, something was missing.

At 19, I went through an important period of self-reflection. I realized I didn’t like the people I surrounded myself with, I didn’t like the direction my life was taking, and I no longer recognized myself in what I was doing, saying, or representing.

So I made a decision that would change everything.

I stopped pursuing the things that were making me unhappy and returned to what had always been there.

I came back to sewing.

For me, that return meant much more than simply picking up an old hobby again. It was a way of reconnecting with my passion, reconnecting with the child I once was, and trying to make peace with him. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was returning to something deeply authentic.

On March 13, 2008, at 19 years old, I launched my first clothing brand.

Since that day, the entrepreneurial journey has been filled with highs and lows. Like any creative path, it came with challenges, uncertainty, and constant learning. But beyond all of that, it also opened the door to extraordinary opportunities.

Over the years, I’ve had the chance to meet and collaborate with incredible people—artists, musicians, and creators who each left their mark on my journey.

Looking back today, I realize that sewing allowed me to reconnect with an essential part of myself. What began with an old sewing machine hidden under a staircase eventually became an adventure that has lasted for years.

And among everything this journey has given me, the people I’ve met along the way remain the most valuable part.

Being able to create, learn, collaborate, and evolve surrounded by passionate people continues to be one of the greatest privileges of my life.

That is what makes me deeply happy and grateful to keep moving forward—one garment at a time.

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