Her brand has since become a cult favourite — but when we first met her back in 2022, Anushka Shah was just a girl with a dream and a broken heart. In this interview from our archive, she talks of the beauty of Morocco, where Casa Nushki was born — and the endless appeal of artisan craftsmanship.
You started Casa Nushki on a trip to Morocco. What drove you there in the first place?
Technically, heartbreak. I went to Morocco with the intention of spending time alone, in a new landscape that I wasn’t too familiar with, to heal myself. I’d been to Morocco only once before and knew this was somewhere I could disappear into. My heartbreak hotel trip turned out to be incredibly inspiring in terms of creativity. I think that when you expect the least of yourself, as so often in moments of grief and loss, you end up feeling freer, and that’s when creativity thrives.
How did Morocco end up inspiring your artisanship?
I’ve always thought that the crux and soul of fashion is artisan craftsmanship, and I wanted to learn and see more of a place I had previously felt a close affinity with. That sense of affinity guided me; for years I felt there was something missing in my wardrobe, clothes that truly reflected me. I know it sounds trite and a tad pretentious, but I’ve grown up wanting to design clothes and my sense of identity has always been entwined with what I wear. My dad worked in fashion for twenty years as a designer and manufacturer and he taught me a lot about the industry. So from the age of four I was often drawing dresses and going to fashion shows.
Was there one fashion show that particularly blew your mind?
The first show that really made me go ‘fuck, this is cool’ was the Nina Ricci fashion show in 2017, because I saw it in person instead of Vogue Runway. I was doing an internship there so I got to sit in the front row and see the outfits which I’d had the joy of following from the moment they were sampled. I like that I get to do that with Casa Nushki too: because it’s a small, boutique project I get to oversee all the steps, from design to pattern making to cutting to promotion and styling. I do want to learn more of the technical things myself, though.
Why ‘Casa Nushki’?
Nushki is the nickname my mum gave me when I was a kid. I like the idea of going by my shorthand: I’ve never been one to take myself too seriously and I also think “Nushki” has some potential for crossover appeal. I’ve been thinking about branching out to South America. I would love to work with artisans in the Andes in Peru or in the Oaxaca region of Mexico which specialises in natural dyes. All the weaving, all the wool…
Your supply chain starts in Morocco. At what point did things start to get real there?
Before my first day in Tangier, I’d emailed Nina Alami, the woman who runs the Artisan Project, to see if I could visit her atelier. Nina is originally from Palestine but grew up in the States before moving to Morocco. She works with female weavers in the Atlas Mountains, and has so many incredible stories. I then went on to Chefchaouen and then to Fez, which is where I sat down and tried to make some clothes from the ideas in my head: I did some technical drawings and cut patterns according to clothes I already had, and then I stumbled upon a beautiful rug shop which is where the idea materialised. In Fez it felt like things could happen more easily than they can in London, where everything’s so formal and expensive. I was told that the Rue Talaa Kebira is the best street for artisan made textiles and leather. So I went there and walked into a carpet shop and met a man called Idris who I told about my ideas, and found these beautiful cactus silk kilim rugs which I thought would look showstopping as an outfit. He then introduced me to a tailor and we went through a translation from French to Arabic. After that I found some indigo dyed hand-woven cotton from Burkina Faso and Mali, where they have an indigo dye tradition a man from the Sahara was telling me about. I’d made some more designs for blouses and tops and worked with local tailors to make these in Fez. By the end of the week I had nine pieces finalised and I was wearing them out, receiving compliments and having people ask where I got them. I thought maybe I should formalise it in some way. I had the instinct that it had the potential to become something more.
Where is your workshop now?
It’s in Finsbury Park, with Inmano Atelier. I love all the people in the studio, they are incredibly talented and reliable.
I feel really lucky.
What designs are you focusing on right now? How would you describe your overall aesthetic?
I‘m working on a purple, strapless revenge dress. It’s highly structured and inspired by this Balmain dress that no longer fits but is still the favourite thing I own. I think there’s this misconception among people that ethical fashion isn’t fun and young, but I am trying to show this is not the case. My clothes are ethically made but maximalist and glamorous and sexy. They’re handwoven and individual and imperfect and I think that makes them more fun.
It’s amazing to witness Casa Nushki’s growth as a friend of yours. How has it felt for you?
When I was on my flight to Morocco, I was listening to Taylor Swift and crying. Flights are always emotional. I remember feeling pain and nostalgia, the silent killer. I found myself asking what I was doing and why. However I soon realised that throwing myself into a creative project and seeing my vision realised has allowed me to feel pride and do away with inhibitions more widely. The trip liberated me, emotionally and sexually too. I think I needed the independence to remind myself of who I am and what I want, for myself and no one else.
Do you design with muses in mind?
I’ve always been really inspired by musicians. Icons from the sixties and seventies, Nina Simone, Jimi Hendrix, Elvis. If I were to dress a celebrity today, it would be Harry Styles. But if we’re collapsing space and time, my dream would be to dress Dalida, and see her perform Paroles Paroles in a Casa Nushki number. I’ve been incredibly blessed to have dressed actress and activist Nat Kelley, documentary photographer and environmentalist Alice Aedy, as well as founder of Zazi Vintage Jeanne de Kroon, who is a bundle of wisdom and joy. I also just love dressing one of my best friends and eternal muses, Edwina. We have the kind of relationship where not everything needs to be said because she just gets it, which makes shooting together effortless, easy, creative, and fun. I was so happy to receive a message from French Korean singer Miki Duplay who wore a pink carpet set to her gig at The Hoxton in Paris. She told me the outfit made her feel magical, comfortable and sexy, and there is no higher praise I could wish for.
You’re wearing a very cool necklace right now. Are accessories a possible venture?
I’ve thought about making handbags. I get a lot of spare material from the offcuts with which to make stuff like… patchwork saddle bags? That’s my vibe at the moment.
Finally, how do you maintain the connection with Morocco?
When I was in Morocco, I studied how the artisans weaved the various fabrics so I could be more involved in co-creating rather than just bargaining at markets. In a world where machines and synthetic fabrics are replacing the human art of weaving, it felt humbling and grounding to be taught an ancestral savoir faire. Now, our patterns are made by women in a co-operative founded by my friend Layla, to whom I was introduced by another friend, Hassan, on my second trip to Morocco. Hassan I met through his friend Emanuela, who I’d got to know serendipitously at Bar Italia in Soho one night. In short, it was fate. Layla started the co-op after her divorce, to give more autonomy and independence to the women around her. I got on with Layla and her friends instantly, and still pinch myself today about the fortune I have to work with such kind and joyous people. It’s not just about maintaining a connection with Morocco, but recognising it as my eternal inspiration.