Defining fashion as an art form is somewhat tricky because, as Sylwia Nazzal comments, it’s in between creativity and commodity. It can speak volumes, but it also needs to sell volumes to be sustainable business-wise. And among an overcrowded industry with hundreds of luxury brands, fast fashion chains, and independent designers, it’s hard to set yourself apart. But the designer is doing so with honesty, community, and tenacity.
After founding Nazzal Studio, Sylwia has found out that playing by her own set of rules is the only way she can fully express what she needs. A Palestinian raised in Jordan, the designer needs to speak about the ongoing genocide of her people, the erasure of their identity, and the many struggles they’re facing. In doing so, she’s “lost a lot of opportunities, I’ve been ostracised in university, and I’ve been pushed into several emotional places beyond rejection,” she tells us in this interview.
But, just like any Palestinian, she’s fighting tooth and nail for survival, for recognition, and also for celebration. Her designs are larger than life, with incredibly voluminous silhouettes that direct your gaze directly into them. You can’t escape them. And that’s exactly what she wants: that you can't look away, that you set your eyes in these garments, and then realise about their history, intention, and message. For example, an incredibly beautiful and intricate lace keffiyeh that symbolises both the vulnerability and the strength of the Palestinians.
Fashion is a tool for expression, and Sylwia clearly understands its power. Others do, too, which is why she was awarded the Franca Sozzani Debut Talent Award by Fashion Trust Arabia just last year. And also, why other artists like singers Saint Levant and Zeyne have chosen to wear Studio Nazzal on stage and in music videos.
Today, we sit down with Sylwia to discuss the relationship between politics and fashion, her upcoming collection in collaboration with artist Jad Maq, post-apocalyptic aesthetic, and the growing talent in the MENA region.
Hey Sylwia, it’s a pleasure to speak with you. How did you first get into fashion?
Thank you, it’s a pleasure. I didn’t enter fashion in the traditional way. I’ve always considered myself more of an artist than a designer; fabrics/fashion is just my medium. I was quite naive when deciding to study fashion, it was last minute and I didn’t fully understand how difficult it was going to be, but I needed to say something and fashion gave me the volume.
You’re of Palestinian origin but grew up in Jordan, which was becoming more and more Westernised. Could you speak on this divided upbringing between celebrating your Arab identity but also seeing how your environment praised another type of culture?
It was disorienting. At home, I was surrounded by stories of Palestine, of dispossession, of longing. Outside, I was surrounded by a constant aspirational gaze toward the West. I find it interesting how as I became older, I held more onto my heritage and getting inspired by what is around me than looking at what was missing and trending. My work lives in that contradiction of being told you don’t exist while seeing your culture appropriated on global runways.
Launching your own brand in the already overcrowded fashion industry is such a bold step. What made you take it, and how is the experience so far?
To be honest, I didn’t set out to launch a brand. I just wanted to tell the truth, and fashion became the language. I was rejected from several job opportunities, especially after October 7th. I have always wanted a brand but thought I would need more experience and guidance before then. However, I feel as though the universe said, just skip the steps and get to the point. It feels accidental.
I started going viral on October 7th and onwards, and people started asking: where can I buy? So I started selling only four items since this collection was just meant to be an art statement, but I’m grateful and I learned a lot. Which means my newest release will be more curated with the intention of being a collection as a brand.
I started going viral on October 7th and onwards, and people started asking: where can I buy? So I started selling only four items since this collection was just meant to be an art statement, but I’m grateful and I learned a lot. Which means my newest release will be more curated with the intention of being a collection as a brand.
Your latest collection makes me travel to Arrakis, the planet in Dune. There’s a certain post-apocalyptic feel to it. Were you inspired by science-fiction at all?
There’s this feeling of being Palestinian, where most of us are displaced, some grew up in Palestine, some were exiled, some visited, and others have never been. But each one of us will claim our heritage and identity with pride. I started to feel like that emotion and that position became of another world, its own entity beyond Palestine. The land is being stolen from us, but we are still maintaining our identity and heritage. Because of this, I wanted an otherworldly feeling behind the colours and the pieces.
I chose dark red to resemble blood; gold and silver for tradition; and light grey-beige to resemble sadness. Keeping it monochromatic added to this emotion of longing and sadness. And yet, the silhouettes being so large and grand forces you to not look away. We need to be seen and heard. I honestly could talk forever about the silhouettes, but to wrap it up, they are the combination of traditional silhouettes with contemporary garments.
I chose dark red to resemble blood; gold and silver for tradition; and light grey-beige to resemble sadness. Keeping it monochromatic added to this emotion of longing and sadness. And yet, the silhouettes being so large and grand forces you to not look away. We need to be seen and heard. I honestly could talk forever about the silhouettes, but to wrap it up, they are the combination of traditional silhouettes with contemporary garments.
You designed a lace keffiyeh, a piece that currently holds extreme importance and symbolism, representing Palestinian resistance against genocide. Making it in lace, a delicate, intricate material, gives it a sense of fragility somehow. Is this a political commentary on the fragility of Palestinian lives right now? Or am I very far off?
You’re right. It was important for me to show both: the strength and the vulnerability. Palestinian life is both fragile and full of strength. The lace keffiyeh is the juxtaposition of something so fragile and soft, opposed with something full of weight, intensity, and meaning. All of this while creating a narrative that we resist despite how fragile it may feel.
Many people have advised you to stay away from politics, but as you said to British Vogue, “how do you expect me to talk about Palestine without talking about the genocide?” Which is totally reasonable. What have been some of the hardships you’ve had to endure because of your views and stance?
I’ve lost a lot of opportunities, I’ve been ostracised in university, and I’ve been pushed into several emotional places beyond rejection, feeling like maybe I am not able to communicate fashion as an art form. After all, fashion is very different from any other art community because it can borderline between being art and also being seen as transactional. The fashion industry likes rebellion when it’s aesthetic and likes politics when it’s white politics. But I didn’t start creating to make people comfortable. I came here to make them remember.
Fashion is political, and I’m very happy to see someone as bold as you defending her folk, Palestinian identity, culture, history, and traditions. What are you most proud of?
Thank you. I’m proud that nothing I’ve made was watered down. I’m proud that young Arabs tell me they feel seen. But most importantly, I am so grateful for the community that I’m building through this type of art. To educate, to inspire, and to feel that we all are connected to something that is bigger than us. That’s everything.
“The fashion industry likes rebellion when it’s aesthetic and likes politics when it’s white politics. But I didn’t start creating to make people comfortable. I came here to make them remember.”
With bold silhouettes and over-the-top pieces, your work is made to be looked at. You can’t avoid seeing it, which is also very political. How do you approach designing each collection? What’s your creative process like?
I start with a feeling, and then a concept. Then, I look at the archive: photographs, people, and their stories, or physical garments. The most important part of my process is research, I like to imagine that I’m freezing moments in time that resemble the concept. I create from there, but I usually avoid looking at my references too much. I study them and then I start creating and draping. Then it’s patterning, re-draping, then more patterning until it’s perfect and says what I need it to say but with a mature silhouette.
There is a lot of storytelling about culture, resistance, and identity imbued in your clothes. Do you ever fear that the more ‘technical’ or ‘fashion’ side to them gets lost in the narrative?
Not really. I think the narrative is the technique. Construction is storytelling. I come from a region where even stitches are resistance. Look at tatreez (traditional embroidery). I like to think that the fun part is being technical and making these bold and artistic ideas become wearable and real.
Global stars like Saint Levant and Zeyne have worn your designs. It speaks volumes about how artists recognise other artists and support their work, especially when it holds so much meaning. How important is community in your work and approach to fashion?
Community is everything. I’m not doing this alone. Saint Levant, Zeyne, and so many others — they’re not just wearing the work, they’re extending it. They’re helping build a cultural archive that says: we were here, and we are still here. That collective effort is what gives the work power. As Arabs, we often look to the West for what we think is new and appropriate, I want to challenge everyone that we already have had ‘it’.
Last year, you received the Fashion Trust Arabia’s Franca Sozzani Debut Talent award. Congratulations! Several months have passed, have you noticed any changes or impact after the accolade?
Thank you. It was a huge honour and a real moment of recognition. Since then, the biggest impact has been on my confidence. Not doubting if this is something people need and want anymore, knowing that I can be recognised. On top of this, I have been able to meet amazing people and connect with them through this opportunity. Sometimes, it feels like it’s the only way I would have met them. Overall, awards are so empowering and impactful, but they don’t protect you from being erased when you speak the truth. Still, it gave me momentum — and that’s what I needed.
Fashion Trust Arabia is only one of the initiatives highlighting the talent in the MENA region. Another recent one is the birth of Dazed MENA, which to me, is currently among the best publications because it feels genuine, honest, and refreshing. In what ways do you see Arab talent and voices expanding thanks to platforms like these?
Publications like Dazed MENA are crucial. They’re not just showing Arab creatives; they’re centering us. There’s a difference. They’re not looking for us to be digestible. They’re letting us speak in our own language, on our own terms. It’s not just representation, it’s reclamation.
We’re almost halfway through 2025. How’s the year going so far? What have you achieved already, and what’s left before the year ends?
It’s been wild. I have officially started to speak in front of a camera, which is huge step for me. My first year, I almost hid myself and my gender until winning FTA. But I am working on a new collection, and it is a collaboration with the upcoming artist, Jad Maq. We will be celebrating middle eastern heritage and the spirituality in the Arab world for this body of work. And together we already have started to open the first art factory in Jordan: part studio, part listening room, part archive. It’s a space for resistance and rest where we not just will create but will allow others to hold the space for exhibitions, listening parties for musicians, and philanthropy! I haven’t spoken on this yet, so I’m excited for you to be the first to hear it :)
