Erdem Moralioglu: ‘As a child I wanted what I was never allowed: a Coke and a hot dog’
Time is very weird at the moment. It’s elastic, but in terms of creativity I am always as much about the here and now as about looking at art and things from the past. I love both.
As a child in the suburbs, I tried to avoid anything that was team-related. I had a very brief career, from the age of eight, on a football team, and I tried ice hockey. My father dreamed I might be the first half-Turkish hockey pro. It came to nothing. I spent most of my time drawing and daydreaming.
My mum’s family lived in the Midlands, my dad’s in Eastern Turkey. They had different accents and I had a different name to everyone else. That was uncomfortable. Now I see that acute contrast of heritage is not only a wonderful thing, it’s who I am.
The Royal College of Art in 2001 was just the most extraordinary place to be. Wolfgang Tillmans lectured on photography, there were talks by Hussein Chalayan in the architecture department. It was all about cross-pollination.
I felt my parents’ homesickness through my father’s Turkish dishes and my mum’s Sunday roasts. I wanted what I was never allowed: a Coke and a hot dog.
No one in the world knows me better than my twin sister. As children, we played together any which way.Not “that’s for girls and that’s for boys”. I never equated the feminine as inappropriate, which is so often pinned on kids when they are playing.
A whole collection can come out of someone else’s story. You imagine their lives, who they were, forensically putting them together. Whether it’s [Victorian biologist] Marianne North or [Victorian cross-dressers] “Fanny” and “Stella”, I am always looking for the magic of narrative to propel me forward.
My belief in beauty, the idea that it can transport you, has a tremendous power. My work has always had to do with a love of the feminine and nature.
When I first realised I was gay, as a child, I was so totally closed. If you told me I would be happily married one day I would never have believed it. But that feeling of being closed also allowed my imagination to run.
I am absolutely optimistic that out of the current situation good and positive change will come. This idea that one can jump on and off a plane and not think about it will come into question.
When we opened our Mayfair store 15 years ago, which my husband Philip designed, we created a universe for an imaginary woman. We asked: what carpet she would want to feel under her feet, what furniture would she like? We underestimate the power of physical spaces.
My studio is my portable paradise. It’s where I feel complete, whether I am alone or with my team. I really miss my team.
There is something about the hunt that I find really exciting. I see something I want, I pursue it. That makes me go week at the knees.
I have always been attracted to things that feel alive. Even as a child a colour was something I felt.
Cecil Beaton was constantly reaching, taking the next step up. He wasn’t born into the role that he played: he created that role. Tina Modotti also took sidesteps. She was a communist agent and a film star – she became who she wanted to be. The idea of transformation fascinates me.
I don’t cry, or if I do, it is altitude-related: on a plane watching a sad film. Do I have a heart of stone?
We have just purchased a robotic hoover. It amuses me no end. It does its own thing, takes control of the situation. I recommend it.
If I could change one thing about the UK, it would be for it to be more altruistic. Our fear of the other is the most important thing to eliminate. For myself, I’d change my impatience. My mum was so superstitious. She was always knocking on wood. She definitely passed that on to me. I avoid breaking mirrors and walking under ladders. Both my sister and I are functioning superstitious people.
I am most happy when I am with my other half.
Erdem is donating 10% of sales from its spring summer collection to the National Emergencies Trust Corona Virus Appeal
