WITH A MILANESE EXPERT
March 2026
Moving to Italy at a young age, she studied fashion and design at Istituto Marangoni before mastering haute couture techniques at Istituto Secoli. Her career includes collaborations with heritage houses such as Max Mara, Vivienne Westwood, Trussardi, Etro, and Calvin Klein. Today, she lives and works in Milan, where she sources and curates vintage pieces, breathing new life into them through a mindful and considered approach.
Her work, professional trajectory, and personal lens on fashion form a single, cohesive system — one where detail, construction, and respect for the archives are paramount. This conversation is about fashion as a craft, the enduring value of form, and why the past remains the source of our most precise and expressive solutions.
IG: @tatilonskaya
IS VINTAGE A LIFESTYLE FOR YOU? A SPECIFIC PHILOSOPHY? WHILE VINTAGE IS CURRENTLY A MAJOR TREND, YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH IT HAS CLEARLY EVOLVED. WHAT DID VINTAGE REPRESENT TO YOU AT THE VERY BEGINNING?
First and foremost, it is a source of inspiration. It’s a way to see fashion more deeply and find the ideas that are missing in the present. As a designer, I’ve always turned to archives — studying shapes, proportions, and details to understand how a garment was made and why it still works today. When I hold a piece, I always turn it inside out. Examining the techniques, the seams, the way it’s cut — it’s a form of meditation for me.
I think vintage has become a trend because, in an era of uncertainty, we return to history again and again to find answers and new meanings.
It moved me profoundly. I bought it with no intention of wearing it — it wasn’t quite my style — but I wanted to touch it, to preserve it, imagining the craftsman’s time and soul poured into every stitch. You cannot mistake that level of execution, even if you aren't an expert in materials.
Sadly, many of these unique techniques are lost today because artisans can no longer afford to spend months on manual labor, and consumers often choose the convenience of lower costs.
The difference is felt instantly: in the proportions, the details, the way it sits on the body. Vintage possesses an internal logic and a level of attention that has almost vanished today — it’s as if the garment was given more time to "become itself."
I am particularly touched by visible human effort. Take the fit, for example. These garments are backed by complex constructions and a dialogue with the human form, rather than mass-produced silhouettes. Clothes weren't simplified for the sake of the factory; they were built around the figure. You can always feel that.
Mass fashion is at odds with complexity because complexity requires time, and the industry has none. Everything is accelerating, and at every stage of production, there is a simplification. This reflects primarily on quality.
For example, I own two iconic Gucci Jackie bags. One is about four years old; the other is nearly thirty. In the new one, the seams have started to give in high-stress areas, the metal plating has worn off, and the stitching is uneven. This is an original bought at the Milan boutique. Meanwhile, the vintage bag, despite its age, is nearly pristine.
Today, that level of intricate work has retreated into a very narrow segment — bespoke ateliers and niche premium brands.
WHAT ITEMS DO PEOPLE OFTEN VIEW AS "INVESTMENTS" THAT ACTUALLY AREN'T?
I think the word "investment" is overused in fashion today. Many believe any Chanel or Hermès bag is an investment, but in practice, that only applies to very specific models, certain leathers, or rare colorways. Everything else is a purchase for pleasure, not an asset.
Another category is "trend-led" purchases. They lose relevance quickly, and their value vanishes with the trend. To be a true investment, a piece must first have personal meaning to you; only then will it retain its essence over time.
SHOW US YOUR THREE FAVORITE VINTAGE PIECES AND TELL US THEIR STORY.
I should mention that I’ve never been a shopaholic. While working as a designer, I mostly wore neutrals — a common trait in our profession. But recently, I’ve entered a new stage where I’m finding joy in wearing the clothes, not just working with them.
First is a gold Yves Saint Laurent jacket. I adore the vintage era of this house. I was captivated by the fabric — a crisp, textured twill that plays beautifully with the light. The buttons feel like standalone accessories.
Next is a recent find: Céline pumps with a contrast toe. To me, they are a historical reference; in the 1980s, the brand hadn't yet reached its peak significance, and you can clearly read the Chanel influence here. Yet, they have their own signature — the red lining characteristic of Céline from that period.
Finally, a pleated silk frame bag. I’m a frequent theater-goer, so I never question the utility of such a delicate accessory. I even have a tiny vintage bag specifically for lipstick. It speaks to a time when a ticket and a powder compact were all one needed for an evening out.
Let me tell you about my first "bitter" experience with a Chanel bag.
It was one of my first major commissions, and spending several thousand euros was a heavy responsibility. I was just beginning to navigate the market.
I found a vintage shop in Milan with a thirty-year history — a rarity. They had a massive archive, often used for film sets. They had an entire stand of Chanel.
My client chose a classic pink Flap bag. At the time, I lacked "hands-on" experience, but I noticed the seller offered a significant discount during negotiations. I grew suspicious and left to think.
In the end, I walked away. The bag was fake. The owner never admitted it or apologized.
That’s when I realized that brands like Chanel and Hermès require a specific expertise and a high degree of responsibility. There is always a risk when big money is involved.
I constantly review archives and often find myself indifferent to genuinely rare, museum-grade items. Rarity, on its own, guarantees nothing.
WHAT IS THE "ONE THAT GOT AWAY" — OR A PIECE YOU ARE STILL SEARCHING FOR?
It sounds cliché, but a Chanel bag. I don't like to rush these things; it’s important to "ripen" into such a purchase. It should happen at the right time, without impulsivity.
On a more contemporary note, my wish list includes a vintage Maison Margiela bag with the glove detail. I’m drawn to that "unobvious" beauty — the strangeness that doesn't age because it was never about the trend to begin with.
ON APRIL 24TH, WE ARE RELEASING OUR COLLABORATIVE LECTURE, "VINTAGE: HOW TO RECOGNIZE, SELECT, AND INVEST". COULD YOU GIVE US A GLIMPSE INTO WHAT VIEWERS CAN EXPECT TO GAIN FROM THIS SESSION?
We begin with the essentials: what truly lies behind the term "vintage" and why it has become such a cornerstone of modern culture. We will discuss value — not just visual, but the value formed through time, context, rarity, and craftsmanship.
Special attention is given to the "eye": how to distinguish a strong piece from a random one, what to look for first, and how to build the visual library that changes your entire approach to buying. This is the skill that transforms the process itself.
Then we move to the market — analyzing how pricing is formed, why some items appreciate in value while others remain just "things," and whether vintage can truly be viewed as an investment.
And, of course, we talk about practice: where to source, how not to get lost in the sea of options, and how to make this process mindful, perhaps even meditative, rather than chaotic.
For me, it’s not just about the clothes; it’s about the lens through which we see them — and that is exactly what I aim to share in this lecture.
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