If you’d asked me in my early design school days what I thought about prints, I probably would’ve given a half-hearted shrug. Prints were nice to look at, sometimes fun to work with, but they didn’t hold any special meaning for me. At least, not back then.

But, everything shifted one semester. We had an entire class dedicated to prints. Not just the visual aspect, but the research, the story, the technique, and the magic that turns an idea into something tangible on fabric. I still remember sitting there, realising for the first time that prints weren’t just decorations. They were storytellers. They could transform a garment completely. That class didn’t just open my eyes; it completely shifted how I saw design. I started noticing prints everywhere; on clothes, in interiors, in packaging, even in everyday life. And slowly, I began to understand their power: the way a print can carry culture, mood, and memory, all in one visual moment.

Months later, it was time to choose our graduation projects. The atmosphere in the classroom was buzzing ; conversations were flying about internships at big brands, which names would shine brightest on a CV, and which cities promised the best exposure. It was exciting to watch everyone map their own paths.

I, on the other hand, found myself still thinking. Not because I was unsure about my future, but because a small, persistent voice in my head kept telling me I wanted to create something entirely my own. A project I could hold onto forever. Something that would challenge me to pour in every skill I had, push every limit, and see what would happen if I was the only one steering the ship.

So, I jumped.

With no brand name attached and no fixed rules, I began building my own graduation project from scratch. At first, it wasn’t meant to be print-centric. I thought I’d explore silhouettes and textures, with prints playing a smaller role. But the more I researched, the more prints began to sneak in first as details, then as bold statements, until they became the heartbeat of the collection. They took over and I let them.

I spent weeks experimenting, developing designs, revising, and starting over when something didn’t feel right. There were late nights, frustrating dead ends, and moments where I questioned every choice I made. But there was also this spark — that feeling when an idea clicks and you can see it coming alive in your head before it even hits the fabric. It taught me independence of how to take ownership of a vision and see it through. It taught me patience,  that good design takes time and iteration. And most importantly, it taught me that following what truly excites you will always lead to work that feels authentic. By the time the collection was complete, it wasn’t just a graduation project. It was my statement.

Looking back, I realise that project was the seed of something much bigger. The way I approached it ; the freedom, the curiosity, the love for prints. It quietly laid the foundation for the work I do today. It’s funny to think about, but even back then, there was someone else in my batch who had also chosen to do a self-initiated project. We weren’t close at the time; our paths barely crossed. But in hindsight, I can see how our choices, separate as they were, were quietly running parallel — two journeys that would one day merge to create something far bigger than either of us imagined: Mosae.

That project didn’t just change my portfolio. It changed my path. And in many ways, it was the first quiet step toward the print-filled world I now live and work in every single day.

– ESHA AWINASHE