From the Room Issue
The workspace shapes gestures, rhythms, and routines, even when it materializes late in a career. Four narratives led by women—Meryll Rogge, Hafsia Herzi, Hanna Zaruma, and Valerie Steele—trace an intimate cartography of the places where fashion is conceived, as well as literary, cinematic, and artistic works.
For lovers of literature, the term “the room” inevitably evokes a foundational text by Virginia Woolf on the place of women in creative and artistic spheres: A Room of One’s Own. Emerging from a series of lectures on women and fiction delivered in 1928, the essay argues that if women create less than men, it is not for lack of talent, but because they are materially, physically, and geographically prevented from doing so. This analysis would later be taken up by the writer Joanna Russ, the artist Tracey Emin, and the designer Maria Grazia Chiuri, among others. Over the decades, the conclusion has remained unchanged: the first step in creation is the establishment of the creative space itself. One must find—or claim—a place of one’s own. Of course, the democratization of the web in the twenty-first century has profoundly altered the landscape. Teenagers’ bedrooms have become photography studios; women writers’ offices, media platforms; young designers’ lookbooks, shop windows open to the world; and artists’ domestic spaces, galleries accessible to all. In many respects, the Internet has multiplied workspaces while placing women at the center of this dematerialized terrain. Yet by projecting potential value onto every aspect of daily life, this transformation has not erased the question of space. The search for an ideal workspace remains more relevant than ever—concrete and tangible. A guided tour of the workspaces of four emblematic female figures: Belgian designer Meryll Rogge, French actress Hafsia Herzi, Ukrainian artist Hanna Zaruma, and American fashion historian Valerie Steele, director of the Fashion Institute of Technology.
MERYLL ROGGE
Meryll Rogge is a Belgian fashion designer. After working as a stylist at Marc Jacobs and then as Head of Womenswear at Dries Van Noten, she founded her own label in 2020 and won the ANDAM Grand Prix in 2024. Since July 2025, she has been the creative director of Marni.
“I had my first workspace when I arrived at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp. Of course, I shared it with the other students and the professors, even though everyone had their own desk. We were located on the top floor of the building designed by architect Marie-José Van Hee. I later learned that she came from the same village as I did! There was a breathtaking view over the MoMu and the rooftops of Antwerp, and we were surrounded by white walls and large windows. Since my appointment as creative director of Marni, I’ve had several workspaces—in several countries. In Belgium, for Meryll Rogge, we were lucky enough to set up our offices in the countryside. We work in a renovated barn, which is quite unusual for a fashion brand. Very few professionals in the industry evolve in a bucolic environment. Inside the barn, laid out like an open-plan space, we work at large tables distributed across different zones. The space is very versatile; it can easily be transformed into a studio for photoshoots. As at the Antwerp Academy, the walls are white and the floor is wooden. When the brand launched, the barn was rather empty, but over the years clothes, objects, supplies, and machines have accumulated. In Milan, for Marni, my offices are obviously larger, but the layout is quite similar. It’s a large white space with big windows. Surprisingly, even though the Marni offices are in the heart of Milan, I find the same view of greenery there as in the barn in Belgium. You don’t feel like you’re in the city—it’s incredible! As a fashion designer, I don’t think that the workspace completely determines the outcome. For example, my Belgian studios are located in the countryside, yet the Meryll Rogge collections are not rural in style. A space needs to be inspiring, stimulating, and practical, but there is a limit to the impact it can have on clothes. I would place more importance on getting out. Fashion design is also a profession that requires a great deal of technical equipment that you don’t find at home. You need to be in a concrete place, with a tangible moodboard and physical objects, in order to have a complete and coherent vision.”
JOHANNA TORDJMAN
The painter, based between Paris and Marrakech, explores identity narratives through series such as Americana and 25h01. A prominent figure in contemporary art, her work has notably been exhibited at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. In February 2026, she will present her first solo exhibition on the African continent at Galerie Rigo Tang in Marrakech, as part of the international art fair 1.54.
“I began painting in the living room of my Paris apartment. Since it was quite small, I worked only in small formats. Space has a tremendous influence on the scale one can produce. But very quickly, despite the lack of room, I started working on large canvases. My apartment looked like a retrospective of myself, ego aside. Looking back, I realize that I need to stay closely connected to the work, as if we were confined together. Especially since I paint from narratives I have recorded myself or drawn from archives. I therefore need to develop this sense of connection with the source of my inspiration, something more easily achieved in an intimate setting. I still work in Paris, but for the past five years my true studio has been in Morocco. The light there is phenomenal. It all began with an artist residency in Marrakech, where I was deeply inspired by local craftsmanship and by the view of the Atlas Mountains from my studio-bedroom. It was a far cry from my Paris apartment. That residency allowed me to reconnect with my North African origins: Tunisia on my mother’s side and Algeria on my father’s—although our family name is Judeo-Moroccan. And yet, I had never been to any of these countries. Morocco therefore became my first point of anchorage with my roots. The first place on Earth where I was not asked where I come from, but whether I am from here. I did not expect reconnecting with my North African heritage to have such a strong influence on my creativity, my choice of subjects, and my pictorial work. After all, the woman cannot be separated from the artist. As a woman, one does not resign oneself. Over the course of my career, I have encountered more and more exceptional women leading museums or cultural institutions, who are genuinely committed to giving back what they themselves have received. These mechanisms of redistribution have had a positive impact on my access to certain spaces, around the world. Nevertheless, I remain convinced that being able to create is already a luxury in itself. So wherever I am, I will always find a way to paint.”
VALERIE STEELE
Valerie Steele is an American author, scholar, and fashion museum curator at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York. She also directs the academic journal Fashion Theory. Since her dissertation, The Corset: A Cultural History, she has published numerous books, including Fetish: Fashion, Sex, and Power, and received the National Arts Club Medal of Honor in 2022.
“When I was in high school, I worked mostly in coffee shops because you were still allowed to smoke there! I would chain coffees and cigarettes while studying. Today, I couldn’t work like that at all. But at the time, I found it very pleasant. Later, at Dartmouth College, I lived in a small apartment where I did most of my work. University was a difficult—almost depressing—period. I reached a point where I hated going to the campus library; it made me extremely anxious. I was also among the first women admitted alongside men. Sexism seeped into every aspect of daily life. Later, during exam revisions at Yale, I thought, ‘Why not go to a hotel?’ Unfortunately for me, the hotel was hosting a conference full of drunk men who were shouting constantly. Eventually, I realized it was time to look for my own space. In the end, I went to Asia. For ten years, I moved continuously between different universities. But I never had my own office. Until the day I returned to the United States and was able to buy an apartment, along with a small room directly opposite it on the landing, which I turned into my office. It was a tiny room overlooking a garden. I installed my computer there and worked for years. I loved that place and missed it deeply when I moved into a loft very close to the Fashion Institute of Technology, where I’ve worked since 2003. It was at FIT that I had my first ‘real’ office. For the first time, I had a room entirely to myself along with a full-time job. As a materialist historian, I need to be in contact with the garments and objects I study, exhibit, or write about. Having my own office within a museum therefore reinforces my methodology. Many of my books are housed in this office, the museum bookstore is one floor below, and I live very close by. For now, it’s my ideal office. Even though there are few personal touches, I feel at home there—in a kind of habitat devoted to concentration.”
HANNE ZARUMA
Hanne Zaruma is a conceptual artist of Ukrainian origin. She gained recognition on Instagram through a series of works that bring eroticism, the male gaze, and technological tools into dialogue. Passionate about transhumanism, many of her projects — including No Name (2021) — resonate with cyberfeminism.
“As a child, I started drawing on the walls of my house. My parents quickly gave me paper, but it still happens sometimes. Today, I don’t have a fixed home. I’ve been traveling all over the world for five years now. So when it comes to digital creations, I always work from my bed, alone and in silence. Offline work, on the other hand, is far more unpredictable. At first, it often involved extreme shoots in places where shooting is forbidden, because I couldn’t afford to rent locations. In the United States, shooting for free is almost impossible. When I have an idea, I become obsessive: I can’t eat or sleep until it’s realized. For example, it took me four years of research and scouting to create this installation of a girl lying in a shop window, sold like a product. I may not have a permanent shooting space, but there is one constant: on set, there is always chaos. I have to ignore discomfort or cold, like many other artists. So yes, on paper, with enough money, men and women can occupy the same spaces. But in practice, safety is a major concern for me. Shoots in public spaces often ended badly when I was alone: men would stare, make comments, or even harass me. Now I travel with an assistant and, when possible, male friends—which has significantly improved my safety. Theoretically, opportunities are equal, but in practice, women have to invest additional resources in order to develop their ideas with peace of mind.
