Julian Louie, the designer behind Aubero, starts most studio days with coffee and then turns on his music, lately a lot of Joni Mitchell. The space settles into that specific kind of focus in which time disappears and everything becomes fabric, light, and small decisions that somehow add up to a whole collection.
From there, the day fractures into three modes: the obsessive handwork Aubero is built on, the technical labor of constructing the clothes, and the unsexy admin that keeps the brand alive. Aubero is material-first by instinct. Julian’s process often begins with fragments — vintage scraps, deadstock, antique textiles, and “waste” materials he saves and returns to as a personal archive. Sketching, patternmaking, technique development, and sourcing happen in conversation with one another. He describes it as collage, not just visually but as a way of thinking, bringing together elements that shouldn’t work until they feel inevitable on the body.
There’s also a small ritual that anchors the work: Louie carries a rock in his pocket every day, one of many fossil-like shells he has collected over time, the kind of thing you’d pick up without thinking on a walk. (He got his in Santa Cruz, where he grew up.) In the studio, similar stones double as pattern weights, literally grounding fabric and paper while he builds. He’s drawn to them because they hold history in layers, a philosophy that runs straight through Aubero.
A lot of designers dabble in reworked materials, but for you it’s the foundation of Aubero. When did that click — was there a specific moment when you realized, This is how I want to build the brand?
I spent six months in Tucson, Arizona. I was sourcing material from Desert Vintage; the original shop is there. They have racks and racks of clothing and material in the basement that is unsellable and unwearable. So I was using that as the raw material. It really felt like this moment of pure creativity. I didn’t really know where it was all going. I didn’t really know that it was leading here.
Can you walk me through your process? Do you usually start with a sketch, or does the material come first and lead the design?
The sourcing process started with only vintage and antique, so I was really working with pieces that were falling apart, things that were unwearable and reworking them. Now, the collection is much more broad and diverse in materiality. I’m sourcing fabrics from Italy and Japan. Some of them are deadstock I’m finding in New York. There is still part of it that is vintage and antique, which I’m finding at auctions, at shops, through dealers. It’s really varied.
Zooming out a bit, what does life in New York look like for you outside the studio? Any go-to spots, and what does Fashion Week actually feel like from your side?
For New York Fashion Week, because it’s kind of women’s-focused, it’s honestly sometimes quite relaxed. Last September, I did my first runway show, and it was great to do that in New York with a kind of local community. This one in February, I will be very calm because I will be done.
There’s a noticeable through-line in your work — fabrics and details that reappear over time. Is that intentional?
The collections aren’t actually super-discrete. You’ll see little bits of fabric that occurred a year and a half ago that then come back and are kind of reiterated on. That’s something really unique to the brand.