My Love-Hate Relationship with South Carolina: When Couture Meets a Market That Doesn't Always Understand It

The Reality of Building a Luxury Fashion House in a Place I'm Still Learning to Love

I've been wanting to write about this for quite some time, but I've struggled with finding the right words. Not because I don't know how I feel, but because my relationship with South Carolina has been complicated. There are days when I genuinely love being here, when I appreciate the people I've met, the relationships I've built, and the opportunities that have come my way. Then there are days when I sit in my studio, surrounded by fabrics, unfinished garments, sketches, and everything I've poured into my business, and wonder whether South Carolina is truly the right place for me as a couture designer.

I have a love-hate relationship with South Carolina, particularly when it comes to fashion. And before anyone takes that statement the wrong way, let me explain. This isn't about believing that South Carolina doesn't have fashion lovers, talented creatives, or people who appreciate beautiful clothing. It absolutely does. I've met some incredible individuals here who have supported my work, believed in my vision, purchased my designs, and reminded me why I continue doing what I love. But I've also experienced the other side of it—the side where people admire couture, want couture, ask for couture, but don't necessarily understand what it takes to create it or why it costs what it does.

And after years of building Stoi's Design Co., I sometimes find myself asking a difficult question: Do people truly want couture, or do they simply want the appearance of luxury without paying for the craftsmanship behind it?

Loving a Place That Doesn't Always Understand Your Work

When I think about my journey as a designer, I think about all the places that have influenced my creativity. I've had the opportunity to experience fashion in different environments, meet people with different perspectives, and see how style and luxury are appreciated in different parts of the world. Every place has taught me something, and South Carolina has certainly been no exception.

But South Carolina isn't where my journey began, and sometimes I feel that difference more than others.

There is a particular challenge that comes with trying to build a luxury couture house in a market where the understanding of couture can vary so widely. There are people who recognize the difference between something mass-produced and something created specifically for their body. They appreciate fabric quality, construction, fit, originality, and the hours of labor involved. They understand that they're not simply purchasing a dress. They're investing in an experience and a piece of wearable art.

Then there are those who see the finished garment, fall in love with it, ask for the price, and immediately want to negotiate it down to half of what it's worth.

That's where my frustration begins.

Because how do you explain to someone that every stitch has a cost? That the fabric they love wasn't free? That the hours spent creating their design aren't something I can simply erase because the price isn't what they hoped it would be?

And more importantly, why are independent designers so often expected to justify the value of their work?

Everyone Loves Couture Until It's Time to Pay for It

I've noticed something interesting over the years. People love to use the word couture. They love the elegance associated with it, the exclusivity, the dramatic silhouettes, the beautiful fabrics, and the idea of wearing something no one else has. They love the photographs of extravagant gowns, the intricate embellishments, and the craftsmanship displayed on luxury runways.

But sometimes, when it's time to commission their own garment, the conversation changes.

Suddenly, the price is too high. Suddenly, someone knows another person who can make it cheaper. Suddenly, I'm being asked whether I can remove details, change fabrics, or offer a significant discount while somehow maintaining the same level of luxury.

I understand that everyone has a budget. I respect that. I also understand that couture is not going to be within everyone's financial reach, and there is nothing wrong with that. Luxury has never meant that everyone must purchase it. But there is a difference between having a budget and expecting a designer to undervalue their work to accommodate that budget.

Your budget is your budget, but my craftsmanship still has value.

When someone comes to me requesting a custom garment, they're not purchasing something that has already been manufactured in hundreds of sizes and stored in a warehouse. They're asking me to create something specifically for them. That involves consultations, design development, fabric sourcing, measurements, pattern development, cutting, sewing, fittings, alterations, and finishing details. Sometimes it involves hours of handwork that no one will ever notice unless they turn the garment inside out and examine how it was constructed.

That is the part of couture that I wish more people understood.

You're not just paying for what you see.

You're paying for everything it took to make what you see possible.

The Cost of Every Stitch

One of the things that frustrates me most is how easily people overlook the labor behind independent fashion. If I spend hours developing a design, sourcing materials, cutting fabric, constructing a garment, adjusting the fit, and making sure every detail meets my standards, why should I be expected to reduce that work to half its value?

Would you walk into an established luxury boutique, select a designer garment, and expect the sales associate to reduce the price by fifty percent simply because you wanted it?

Probably not.

Yet independent designers are frequently approached as though our prices are merely suggestions rather than the result of actual business costs, specialized skills, and years of experience.

I think some people assume that because we are independent, we have more room to negotiate. They see a small business and believe that means lower overhead, lower prices, or greater flexibility. What they don't see is that many of us are doing the work of several departments ourselves. We don't always have production teams, marketing departments, sales representatives, or investors absorbing the costs of operating our businesses.

When I quote a price, I'm not simply thinking about fabric and thread. I'm thinking about the time it takes to create the garment, the equipment required, the skill involved, the business expenses, and what it takes to keep Stoi's Design Co. operating.

And yes, I'm also thinking about making a profit.

Because being passionate about fashion doesn't mean I should be expected to work without earning a living.

The Difference Between Loving Fashion and Understanding Couture

I believe South Carolina has many people who genuinely love fashion. I've seen beautifully dressed individuals, attended wonderful events, and met people with incredible personal style. There are fashion lovers here who understand the artistry behind what designers create, and I appreciate them tremendously.

But loving fashion and understanding couture are not necessarily the same thing.

You can love beautiful clothing without understanding how it's constructed. You can appreciate a dramatic gown without realizing how many hours went into developing its silhouette. You can admire intricate embellishments without knowing the cost of those materials or the labor required to apply them.

And that's okay. Not everyone is expected to know the technical side of fashion.

What I hope to see more of is a willingness to learn and respect the process.

When someone tells me they love my work but cannot afford a particular design, I understand. There is no offense in that. What becomes difficult is when admiration turns into an expectation that I should compromise my pricing, my time, or my craftsmanship simply to secure a sale.

I would rather have someone appreciate my work and purchase when they're ready than have them expect me to diminish its value.

Sometimes I Wonder If My Work Would Be Better Understood Somewhere Else

This is probably the most personal part of what I'm writing.

There are days when I genuinely wonder whether Stoi's Design Co. and Maison de Stoi would be received differently in another market. Would clients in another city better understand our made-to-measure process? Would the conversations surrounding pricing be different? Would people see our garments as investments in craftsmanship rather than expensive clothing?

I don't have those answers.

And I don't want to pretend that every designer in New York, Paris, Atlanta, or Los Angeles has an easier time selling couture. Every market has its challenges, and independent designers everywhere are working hard to establish themselves.

But I would be lying if I said I haven't considered what it would look like to build the next chapter of my business somewhere else.

Sometimes I feel like I'm constantly explaining what couture means before I can even begin discussing the design itself. And while educating clients is part of what we do, there are moments when I wish the conversation could simply begin with an appreciation for the craftsmanship.

I want to spend more time creating, designing, developing collections, and working with clients who understand what they're commissioning, rather than constantly defending why my work costs what it does.

But South Carolina Has Also Given Me Reasons to Stay

With all of that said, I cannot write this blog without acknowledging the people who have made my experience here meaningful.

There are people in South Carolina who have supported Stoi's Design Co. from the beginning. People who have attended our shows, purchased our designs, recommended our services, shared our work, and encouraged me during moments when I questioned whether I wanted to continue.

There are clients who never questioned the value of what I created for them because they understood the experience they were receiving. There are models who have given their time and talent to help bring my collections to life. There are photographers, creative professionals, friends, and supporters who have helped us build something meaningful.

And those people matter.

I don't ever want my frustrations with certain experiences to overshadow the genuine support I've received.

South Carolina has also given me opportunities to grow as a designer and producer. It has challenged me to think differently about how I present my work, how I communicate my value, and how I build relationships with clients. It has taught me that I cannot rely solely on people discovering my work. I have to continue educating, marketing, creating experiences, and introducing couture to audiences who may not have encountered it before.

Some of those lessons have been difficult, but they have helped shape the business owner I am today.

I'm No Longer Interested in Convincing Everyone

As I continue growing Stoi's Design Co. and Maison de Stoi, one thing I'm learning is that I don't have to convince everyone to become my client.

That realization has been freeing.

Not everyone is going to understand couture. Not everyone is going to appreciate the amount of work that goes into a custom garment. Not everyone is going to agree with my prices. And not everyone is meant to purchase from my fashion house.

I'm learning to be comfortable with that.

I want to work with clients who appreciate originality, craftsmanship, individuality, and the experience of having something created specifically for them. I want people to understand that our garments aren't about fast fashion or mass production. They're about creating something intentional, something personal, and something that reflects the person wearing it.

I will always be willing to educate someone about the process. I will always be happy to discuss design possibilities and help clients understand what goes into their garments. But I'm no longer interested in constantly defending the value of my work.

There is a difference between explaining your value and begging someone to recognize it.

And after more than two decades in this industry, I know the difference.

So Where Does That Leave My Relationship With South Carolina?

I think the answer is that I'm still figuring it out.

There are days when I love South Carolina. I love the connections I've made, the creativity I've encountered, and the opportunities to introduce something different to the fashion community. I love seeing people light up when they experience one of our collections or try on a garment that makes them feel beautiful.

Then there are days when I feel frustrated, misunderstood, and exhausted from having the same conversations about pricing, craftsmanship, and what couture actually means.

Both feelings can exist at the same time.

I can appreciate what South Carolina has given me while also questioning whether it's where I want to build the next chapter of my fashion house. I can be grateful for the people who support my work while acknowledging that I want to reach a larger audience of clients who understand and invest in what we create.

And I can love a place without believing it has to be my forever home.

For now, I'm continuing to create. I'm continuing to serve the clients who believe in our work. I'm continuing to build Stoi's Design Co. and Maison de Stoi with the same dedication to craftsmanship, inclusivity, and originality that inspired me to start this journey.

But I'm also giving myself permission to think bigger, explore different markets, and consider what the future of my business could look like beyond South Carolina.

Because at the end of the day, I didn't become a couture designer to spend my career convincing people that my work deserves to be valued. I became a couture designer because I love creating beautiful things that make people feel extraordinary.

And wherever the next chapter takes me, that will never change.

South Carolina, I appreciate you. You've challenged me, frustrated me, inspired me, and introduced me to some incredible people. Our relationship may always have its ups and downs, but you've certainly been part of my story.

I'm just still deciding whether you're part of my next chapter.