Creativity doesn’t always arrive in a straight line. Sometimes it moves like water: shifting, seeping, folding into whatever form holds it. And sometimes, it changes the shape of the vessel itself. Ronan McKenzie creates in that space: where fluid expression reshapes structure and feeling makes its own form. Her work flows across photography, curation, styling, and fashion design, converging into an interconnected language through which she explores belonging, intimacy, and care.
And this is how Selasi was born. What began as a spontaneous, self-led process during lockdown has since grown into a world of its own. Meaning “God hears me” in the Ghanaian language Ewe, Selasi is a fashion brand rooted in trust — of self and of community. Each chapter draws on the talents of friends, collaborators, and kin: stylists, knitters, florists, scent designers, and movement artists who extend the garments’ poetics outward into experience. The final synergy of those elements invites space for the invisible forces that move between us — connection, longing, unspoken aches and desires. 
In a cultural moment where minimalism can feel like aesthetic retreat, pared down to the point of absence, McKenzie offers another way. Hers is a minimalism of presence: textured and intuitive. Selasi births garments that listen and allow the body to arrive as it is, forging a sensory universe that urges us to sit with our own emotional gravity. Ahead of Ronan McKenzie’s takeover of London’s cult bookshop Tenderbooks from July 30th to 31st, where she’s organising a pop-up to present the latest issue of Selasi Stories, we speak with her about creativity as vocabulary, collaboration, isolation, and going with the flow.
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Selasi began as a spontaneous lockdown project. How has that inner language, the gestures of your design and approach to fashion, evolved from then to now?
Selasi began after I had been making clothes during lockdown, and I decided to create a more cemented space for it in my mind, by giving it an identity and a title. I think the place that Selasi comes from within me has stayed the same, but in me giving time and space to the practice of making, draping, conceptualising the world it inhabits, it continues to develop and expand.
Through practice and seeking education in certain areas, I’ve sharpened my making skills and knowledge of fabrication, which also influences the gestural language that I have. Seeing people wear and use my pieces also has huge influence on how and what I make, although Selasi is still rooted in my personal sensibilities, through making custom pieces or even seeing people try things on, the way they feel and move in my pieces informs developments of them.
Your creative practice began with photography. How does that visual foundation continue to guide you in your design work today? Do you still see with a photographer’s eye, even when you’re draping, sketching, or fitting a garment?
Having photography as a skill has been incredibly useful in developing my ideas for garments because I’m often able to photograph something in a way that makes it look like a finished garment, when it may just be something I’ve draped. Often, seeing a draped piece in this way inspires actual garments and gives me an understanding of how a piece may need to be constructed so that it works as a functional garment, beyond a drape. It’s difficult to pinpoint what ‘the photographer’s eye’ is, as across all of the disciplines that I work and play within, I’m just working from my instinct and perspective.
You’ve described Selasi as a “selfish place”, a self-governed space powered by your intuition. Can you remember when the desire for that kind of unfiltered creative autonomy first crystallised?
Needing an autonomous project where I don’t ever need to compromise comes from other areas of my practice where I do need to compromise or collaborate. For me, it’s always been important to have creative outputs that can be unfiltered, to allow myself the space to be and do exactly what I’d like to, in the way that I’d like to.
Photography can come with compromise; the final images for commercial projects are always chosen by someone else, often the final images for editorial projects are also chosen by someone else, even when writing; the final edit is fine-tooth combed by an editor. When I had Home, I was thinking about what would be useful for others, so although collaboration is a big part of my practice, I always need to have something that is just for me.
Now that Selasi has grown into something larger, how do you navigate the balance between holding that space sacred and letting others (collaborators, stylists, community members) into it? 
I collaborate with people who understand my intention and whose own style and vision can amplify or explore areas outside of my personal remit. It’s super exciting and gratifying to have collaborative partners and matches who can create with me under my overarching creative direction, to bring their own energy and vision to it. The special thing for me about many of my garments is that although they are distinct to me, they also allow space for the wearer to embody them completely, bringing through a new energy which I can enjoy too.
Selasi offers a kind of minimalism that’s rare in fashion – one that’s warm, sensual, and emotionally resonant. What does minimalism mean to you personally?
To me, simplicity is hugely important. I like my garments to be simple, to be layerable, style-able, fairly chameleon-like in their ease within a wardrobe yet somehow stand out; bold and loud in how quietly confident they are.
“For me, it’s always been important to have creative outputs that can be unfiltered, to allow myself the space to be and do exactly what I’d like to, in the way that I’d like to.”
Building on that, how do you ensure that clothing stays connected to lived experience rather than revolving around an aesthetic trend?
By wearing everything that I make. I’m not a very trend-based person, so if I want to wear it, it’s likely that I’ll still want to wear it in five years time or beyond.
You move between many creative outlets: photography, filmmaking, curation, and now design. How do you make sure these practices feed each other instead of pulling you in too many directions?
Each area of my practice is like additional vocabulary to my language of communication. The more vocabulary I have, the better I’m able to express myself.
You’ve consistently built an ecosystem around Selasi that’s collaborative and interconnected, pulling in florists, musicians, dancers, family. How do you choose your collaborators?
The people who are part of the Selasi world are generally part of my personal world. Beyond myself, Selasi is for those closest to me, or those I’m inspired by, so it’s natural to me to bring them into my practice in this way.
With each chapter, the world of Selasi feels ever-expanding. How do you decide which dimension to explore next: sculptural knit, scent, live draping or performance?
I go with the flow of what feels good, and what excites me.
What’s feeding you creatively right now? Whether that’s a texture, a conversation, a place and how do you imagine it might take shape next, whether through Selasi or something else entirely?
There’s a lot to come for Selasi in the next few months, so hopefully you’ll be able to see what I’m feeling very, very soon
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