The Kangal Shepherd Dog, with its muscular build, dense coat, and distinctive tail that curls over its back, has been ingrained in Turkish culture for hundreds of years. Its large size and protective nature makes it a fierce and loyal guardian — and a symbol of strength and endurance. “It stands for power,” Khan says. “It’s one of the strongest dogs in the world.” Owing to its significance, Khan put an image of the Kangal on an oversized black T-shirt with a description underneath and the numbers 58 above. (In Turkey, license plates begin with a two-digit number that points to the city where a car is registered; 58 was Khan’s.)

“It’s written: from Anatolia to the world,” she says, “because that’s basically what I do — just spreading out love and purity and beautiful energies of where I’m from to the whole world.” Dubbed “The Birth of the Anatolian,” the collection is both seasonless and genderless, and an ode to Anatolia’s rich culture and history, which reach back centuries. It’s also a deeply personal one for Khan, whose family hails from Turkey and who moved there when she was nine (by way of Germany). 

“When I was around 14, I started attending weekend schools for fashion,” Khan says. “I would go to high school, and on the weekend, I would go to this tailoring course, draping, fashion illustration, to kind of get there.” After getting accepted at Atelier Chardon Savard in Berlin, Khan left Turkey for Germany, launching her brand shortly after graduation. Since then, she’s racked up a few accolades; she was nominated by Highsnobiety for the BERLIN, BERLIN prize, and was named by i-D Italy as one of the “rebel” emerging labels. 

Built on a foundation of high-end modest dressing and beholden to no season, Khan’s thoughtful collection is rife with references to Anatolia. Denim, bleached and treated with natural coloring, evokes the color of water — a nod to the four seas that surround her family’s homeland. Sequins, interspersed with gold and silver coins, tassels, and evil-eye-shaped charms, bring to mind the intricate Iznik tiles that cover mosques. Creamy beiges imitate the honeyed dustiness of the desert. Somber blacks, which dominate the palette, represent empowerment — but also grief for the lives lost in wars around the world. 

Elsewhere, prints and patterns tell even more stories of place. Red and white keffiyehs, a global symbol of resistance, make a powerful appearance. A delicate pattern plays on a rose-tan cinched coat, inspired by an Ottoman kaftan. On the back of a hoodie, an image depicts the late Turkish artist Müslüm Gürses (Müslüm Baba) — one of the most exalted arabesque singers in the country. “He’s this artist who was conceptualizing pain in his art and made very commercial music out of it,” Khan says. “And that was, for me, the mourning in this collection — crying [for the] souls we have lost.” 

Every piece reflects remarkable skill in draping, mixing denim and leather with jersey and translucent fabrics to shroud the wearer. Employing these techniques, Khan celebrates the diversity of modest dressing, showing a wide spectrum of ways to conceal while asserting personal style and freedom. In one look, for example, she gives the burqa an athletic twist with a pair of tailored pants and long shirt fastened by only one button. “I really wanted to give the woman the space for movement.” 

“For me in general, this whole collection, it’s an offer of how the future of Muslim communities — not even Muslim, I would say, MENA, so Middle Eastern, North African communities — can look like,” she continues. “Because it’s a total offer of how men and women can dress while staying true to their beliefs or cultures.” Here, Khan shares more about her collection, her background and upbringing, and career-long fight for inclusivity in the fashion world. Following are edited excerpts. 

This interview has been edited and condensed for length, style, and clarity.

I’d love to know more about your background and how it brought you to where you are today. 

I’m Turkish. I was born to a Turkish guest worker family in Hamburg, Germany, which is very common, because in the 50s and 60s, Germany needed workers from other countries to rebuild their country, as most of their men died from the war. So our Turks came here straight from Anatolia, and I’m a granddaughter of one of those families. While growing up, I spent the first nine years of my life in Hamburg, and afterwards, my dad, who grew up in Hamburg as well, wanted to go back to his roots — which is very understandable. And then we moved to Istanbul.

What was that like?

It was very rough, because I was coming from more of this western culture, and then I was in the middle of a different storyline, different people, [different] language. I’m Turkish, but my language wasn’t as strong as the others. I was not living there. So, it was like a whole new kind of rearrangement — a new adaption. There, I kind of started also exploring myself. I was a queer child, which wasn’t easy at all. It was just very dramatic and painful, but it was also nice at a point, because it gave me, personally, the private bubble where I could experience myself. And when you’re the weirdo, you are not scared to be more weird. You know? 

There, I kind of started exploring fashion cultures. I mean, I was in Istanbul. It’s one of the richest cities, culture-wise, in the whole damn world. I was walking down the street, and I saw architecture from the Ottoman Empire, and two steps next to it, from the Roman Empire. It’s so rich — religiously, too. I mean, one of the oldest Jewish communities is in Turkey. One of the oldest Syrian communities is in Turkey. It was like this mixture of cultures and everything, and [that was] in my subconscious mind. 

You said that you got into fashion at the age of 14. How did you come to that discovery that this was the career for you? Because most people learn that later on in life. 

I was always interested in art. When I was little, I would always be like: I’m gonna grow up and be famous. One day, I wanted to be a rockstar. The other day, I wanted to be a pop star. I also drew a lot as a kid. I painted a lot. I sculpted a lot. I was always surrounded by art, by movement, [by the idea] that I can change something. Fashion was always there, because I always looked up to my mom. She was very fashionable. She was this Middle Eastern lady with her little Louis Vuitton bag, and it was very rare. My dad is also a fashion icon. So, I kind of always had fashion there as a product in my home. 

Then, when I was 14, I realized I want to do architecture; I want to do art; I want to do clothes. I want to do everything, and everything [in which those things] blended in well was fashion. Because fashion is quite everything. Now, when I do a show, I don’t just design clothes. I design so much more. It’s everything. 

Do you remember the first thing you made when you got into fashion? That first piece that you made that you were really proud of? 

I was 13 — or something like 14. My cousin was visiting from Hamburg. We were in Istanbul, and we watched a movie called House of Versace. That night, I realized who I was going to be. My first sketch was a baby-blue, long dress with a cut on the front and V-neck in the back. That was the first sketch I did, and the first thing I tailored was probably a red leather handbag, which is still in Turkey.

Your brand is still fairly young, but how has it evolved from when you first started to now? What’s changed or stayed the same? 

It was very rough. I just flew to Turkey for two weeks. My company is in Turkey. I’m also partly based there. I went there and [figured out all the production]. I just kind of did it in two weeks — without really planning anything. During that, I had an offer from a retail store. I got my first wholesale order from Studio183 in Berlin, and that gave me the push to start this business for real. Just after two months, I launched two wild seasons, which is wild. The first was the exclusive collection for this retailer, and the second one was my first independent collection, and that went off. […] I was nominated by Highsnobiety for the BERLIN, BERLIN prize, and i-D Italy named me as one of the “rebel” emerging labels.

What’s changed or stayed the same? 

But what I did back then was very queer and sexy, and open and exposed because that’s how I personally live. Meanwhile, I’m a very spiritual woman. I’m also a Muslim myself. So, the way we practice is very spiritual. It was this personal path. I had become a modest woman. I was wearing a hijab for a while, and while I was wearing a hijab, I really didn’t feel like exposing women, because I was not exposed. For me, modesty is royalty — it can be so divinely beautiful. 

I was just kind of on a spiritual path, and I wanted to take this personal development into my business. So, then it was this clashy season, which I did last year. I called it Çağrı; it means “the message.” It was inspired by the message of most religions, what modesty really means, what it does, what it can do, and that this is not something forced, but more a decision someone can take. Wearing a hijab is feminism at its best, because I decide, as a woman, if I want to show my hair or not. 

I’m excited to dig into the collection. You have denim, you also have leather — juxtaposed with some lighter, more delicate fabrics. So, tell me a little bit more about how you chose your fabrics for this particular collection. 

Well, for me personally, I always go through a special fabric sourcing and what I have in my DNA as a label. My clients love denim, so nothing happens without the denim. I like leather a lot. I use [vegan] leather. If we use real leather, then it’s 100 percent upcycled from existing material. Leather reminds me of the purity of the human body. It’s also very sensual and very sexy on the body. And I’m living in Berlin; we have lots of leather in this city! I [also] really love tailoring — I love the elegance of it. That’s always why I have some light and hard [materials] like wool blended in because of the way it falls and shapes to body. 

And speaking of, there’s just so much beautiful drapery here — the way that you manipulate fabric and the twists and the folds, it’s very artistic. 

When I was 14, I did draping, because I didn’t know the rest. I didn’t know how to make a pattern back then. Mostly, my little secret in draping is that I love architecture. I take images of buildings — the patterns, the cuts, the shape of the building, or the landscape — and then I translate that into the dress, into the craftsmanship. I just love what draping can do to the human body, because, to me, it’s wearable art, and it’s mostly inspired by Anatolian carpets and architecture like doors and balconies, because our balconies are shaped very differently. I take all of that and blend it into the draping to make a whole concept. 

How do you want people who wear your clothes to feel? What’s the attitude you’re tapping into? 

What’s the attitude? For me, it’s just fierce. I just want them to feel empowered. I just want them to also feel seen. That’s why my designs are so bold. I really want them to feel seen, heard, and just comfortable. That’s the main attitude — I want them to feel the spirit of Guovarde, which is elegance but also fierceness; I just want them to look very badass. When I see a woman in Guovarde, I really want her to feel herself, like the best-looking, strongest woman. It’s really about empowerment, because in my background, women have been suppressed for so long, and here, I am liberating them.