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YOU NEED TO KNOW THE RULES TO ALLOW YOURSELF TO PLAY WITHOUT THEM
by Katerina Chekan
October 2026
Neofolk, timeworn lace, handmade pieces and garments that seem to find their way to the right person on their own. In our new Cultura.Moda interview, we meet Yuliya Darkovich — an artist, stylist and the creative mind behind HA HA HAT, a London-based millinery project. She turns her curiosity about the world and her own identity into an ongoing creative practice.

For Yuliya, personal style is less about following aesthetics or visual codes and more about a way of exploring herself, discovering unfamiliar sides of her personality and telling stories through details. Her wardrobe brings together vintage finds, bespoke pieces, craftsmanship and garments that sometimes seem to appear in her life of their own accord. Clothing becomes a space for experimentation, where there is room not only for discovery but also for mistakes.

We talk about the freedom to reinvent yourself, a love of old things and the delicate boundary between clothing and art. We also explore how an unexpected encounter led Yulia to millinery, why accessories can function like punctuation marks, and how to preserve the pleasure of creating without turning it into an endless pursuit of results.

IG: @yollyholybubblegun
Photography: Hanna Lautreamont

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONAL STYLE TODAY? WHAT AESTHETICS, VISUAL CODES OR INNER REFERENCES SHAPE THE WAY YOU DRESS?


There are so many things I love, and yet I'm incredibly selective. I find endless fascination in garments, styles and cultures, but I always approach them through my own personal sensibility.


These days, I think less in terms of styles and visual codes, relying instead on my own sense of beauty and intuition. These have been shaped by my life experiences: through travel, encounters with very different people, the study of costume history, exposure to different cultures and aesthetic traditions, and through observing the world and my own experiences.


Still, before our conversation, I did open my wardrobe to find a few more tangible reference points. I came up with neofolk, Urban Craft, extreme vintage and freak chic.


With neofolk, I'm drawn to contemporary interpretations of traditional Belarusian dress: aprons, individual details and pieces by Belarusian designers. Urban Craft is about bringing together the energy of the city and traditional craftsmanship — embroidery, weaving and the possibility of making or altering something with your own hands. Extreme vintage is my love of things that have lived a long life: the older and more questionable a piece looks, the more I'm drawn to it. I could hardly walk past crumbling, moss-covered lace.


Freak chic, meanwhile, is partly connected to how I experience femininity. I like introducing something ambiguous, sometimes even slightly unpleasant. Using hair as a texture, for example. I don't do it for the sake of other people's reactions; I'm simply interested in exploring that boundary myself.

YOUR LOOKS OFTEN GO BEYOND CLOTHING AND BECOME COMPOSITIONS IN THEIR OWN RIGHT. WHAT PLACE DOES CLOTHING ACTUALLY OCCUPY IN YOUR LIFE?

For me, it's a constant process of exploration. As a child, I dreamed of becoming an archaeologist. I never did, but the desire to investigate, look beneath the surface and discover hidden treasures among clothes has stayed with me. I love the process of searching. I can hardly settle until I've found what I'm looking for. The search itself and the joy of discovering something precious are two separate pleasures.

I'm also fascinated by people who are fluent in visual language. Knowing a language is about much more than simply being able to speak it — it gives you access to an entire universe. The ability to tell stories through clothing, to communicate ideas and feelings through it, has an extraordinary power for me.

At the same time, getting dressed works both ways. We often say that our wardrobe expresses our personality. And that's true, but we can only express what we already know about ourselves. Changing the way we dress, however, can help us discover things we don't yet know.

You put on something unfamiliar, and suddenly your posture, behaviour and mood begin to shift. If you pause and pay attention, you might realise something about yourself. It becomes a continuous cycle: sometimes I use clothing to explore who I am, and sometimes I use it to express something I've already discovered.
WHICH SIDES OF YOURSELF ARE YOU PARTICULARLY INTERESTED IN EXPLORING THROUGH CLOTHING?

I keep coming back to masculine roles. I enjoy discovering different characters within myself — a young, tormented romantic poet, for instance — and finding ways to bring them to life. It's not about wanting to compete with men in any way. It's simply about me.

Until I was twenty-five, I didn't feel particularly feminine or attractive. Then I began a rather tentative search for my own femininity. Today, I feel equally comfortable with both masculine and feminine expressions. I like being able to consciously choose how I want to look and which side of myself I want to reveal. Perhaps that contrast has become more pronounced over time. And it's something I find interesting to experiment with.
Sometimes I use clothing to explore who I am, and sometimes I use it to express something I've already discovered

WHEN DID YOU FIRST START EXPERIMENTING WITH YOUR STYLE? HAVE THERE BEEN ANY EXPERIMENTS THAT DIDN'T QUITE WORK OUT?

I started experimenting in my teens. Back then, it was probably experimentation for its own sake. As you get older, you become more aware of the consequences and take your responsibilities into account. But there are moments in life when you lose your sense of self, and experimentation becomes a way of getting to know yourself all over again. Sometimes it even reveals things about you that are uncomfortable to acknowledge.

After moving to London, I felt as though my identity had fallen apart. I no longer understood who I was in this new context. I experimented with hairstyles and clothing, and not everything worked out.

But mistakes are just as important to the process as successes. When everything goes well, you tend to skim the surface without really getting to know yourself. When something doesn't work, you have to stop and confront your own truth — which isn't always particularly comfortable. You start noticing your insecurities, fears and limitations, asking yourself difficult questions and looking for different ways forward. I think these are precisely the moments when you get to know yourself more deeply and genuinely grow.

That said, I don't believe personal style has to be a major project for everyone. It requires time, energy and attention. Not everyone needs that, and that's perfectly fine.
But mistakes are just as important to the process as successes. When everything goes well, you tend to skim the surface without really getting to know yourself
WHERE DO YOU FIND SUCH UNUSUAL PIECES? HOW IS YOUR WARDROBE PUT TOGETHER?
Sometimes clothes find me. I might not be looking for anything at all, and then suddenly a piece appears as if it's jumped out at me from around a street corner. I love those encounters.

I tend to bring objects to life, too. I have relationships with them: we meet, get acquainted, sometimes someone introduces us to one another. That's why I try to stay open to new encounters, even when something initially feels unfamiliar.

On a more practical note, roughly a third of my wardrobe is made up of bespoke pieces. I work with a dressmaker because quality matters to me, as do the details that might go unnoticed by others: the internal construction, the seams, the hardware. Having something made can be just as challenging as finding the right ready-to-wear piece. But I'm willing to wait, search and invest in the process to get exactly what I want. Three or four months can pass between buying the fabric and receiving the finished garment. That's a perfectly natural rhythm for me.

Another part of my wardrobe comes from vintage shops and markets. Sometimes I go looking for something specific; other times, I simply browse and enjoy the experience without buying anything.

The third part consists of contemporary pieces — clothing, shoes and bags. But even when I buy something ready-made, I often see it as a starting point. I might alter the cut, replace the buttons or rethink certain details. I enjoy not simply choosing from what's already available, but recognising a piece's potential and bringing it to life in my own way.
Yuliya has shared her favourite places in London for discovering vintage treasures, unusual details and pieces with a story to tell:
🔗 Found And Vision
🔗 282 Portobello
🔗 Portobello Vintage Market
🔗 Lovers Lane London
🔗 Vault Vintage
🔗 Sign of the Times London
🔗 APOC STORE
🔗 FILES LONDON
🔗 I Have Something Better Studio
🔗 Goodhood
🔗 Dover Street Market
🔗 Light House
🔗 LABSTORE LONDON

Save her personal guide for your next trip — or simply add it to your collection of fashion addresses.
ARE THERE THINGS YOU BUY EVEN THOUGH YOU DON'T INTEND TO WEAR THEM?

Yes, there's a small category of things I want to own simply for the pleasure of having them in my life. For example, a vintage hand-painted silk kimono that now hangs in my bedroom like a wall hanging. At a certain point, an object stops being just clothing and becomes an artwork in its own right. I think the boundary between clothing, objects and art is much thinner than we tend to imagine.
WHICH PLACES IN LONDON HAVE BECOME SOURCES OF INSPIRATION FOR YOU? MUSEUMS, GALLERIES, VINTAGE SHOPS, STREETS OR ENTIRELY UNEXPECTED SPACES?

I've thought about it, and realised that inspiration isn't particularly tied to specific places for me. I tend to visit exhibitions more to understand the context: to see what other people are doing and what's happening around me.
Inspiration, though, can come from absolutely anything. You might be walking through a station, notice how a surface is lightly covered in dust and think: what a beautiful gradient. It's not something you could deliberately recreate.

Sometimes I simply stop and watch people. There's so much to notice: faces, beauty, behaviour, movement. For me, inspiration often comes precisely from these moments of observation.

WE FIRST MET WHEN YOU JOINED OUR “PERSONAL STYLE” AND “PROFESSION PERSONAL STYLIST” COURSES. WHAT BROUGHT YOU TO US AT THAT PARTICULAR MOMENT? WHAT WERE YOU HOPING TO FIND?


I joined your courses during a turning point in my life. At the time, I needed an outside perspective, to hear a different opinion and find some kind of new grounding. During that unsettled period, I was particularly lacking in structure, and I found it in your courses. I'm very grateful for that. I enjoy learning, discovering new things and trying different approaches. The courses helped me organise and make sense of things I had previously done largely by intuition, and made it much easier to trust my own decisions.

YOU USED TO CREATE CLOTHING, AND NOW YOU WORK WITH HEADWEAR. HOW DID YOU FIND YOUR WAY INTO THIS FIELD?

I should clarify that I don't have a formal education in sewing, and when creating clothing, I always worked with pattern cutters, dressmakers and seamstresses. But I was constantly making things myself, experimenting with different techniques. All of these interests seemed to exist separately, without coming together into one clear direction.

It all began when I bought a hat at a vintage shop in Tbilisi one day and reworked it to make it my own. Later, already in London, a friend invited me to an exhibition of Italian furniture. There I met Hanna, who was working on the design of one of the exhibition spaces. When she saw my hat, she asked where I'd found it. I told her I'd altered it myself, and she said, “You should make hats.” She also recommended a college where her friend had studied.

After that, everything seemed to happen very quickly: suddenly I was at college, learning how to make hats. Gradually, I realised that this was where everything I'd always been drawn to came together: craftsmanship, history, a love of vintage, and an attention to materials and details. Looking back, it feels as though all my different interests and pursuits had been leading me towards this point all along.
Photography: Hanna Lautreamont

AND WHAT DO HATS MEAN TO YOU PERSONALLY?


I have a metaphor for this. In the visual language, hats and accessories are like punctuation marks to me. They add nuance to what we want to say. Sometimes they can be an ellipsis, sometimes an exclamation mark.


A sentence can be very simple in itself. But a detail can change its tone, give it a little more intensity.

In the visual language, hats and accessories are like punctuation marks to me. They add nuance to what we want to say. Sometimes they can be an ellipsis, sometimes an exclamation mark
TELL US ABOUT THAT VERY FIRST HAT AND THE BRAND.

My first hat is special to me. It will always be the first. It was a small hat made of black cotton velvet, with a black veil and flowers. I removed the veil and the decoration, sewed a pom-pom on top, added a black chain with a velvety coating and an elastic band to keep it in place. And that was it — it became mine.

The name HA HA HAT came from a desire to bring more lightness and pleasure into my work. For me, it's first and foremost about play, fun and joie de vivre. It's not about making a serious statement or, heaven forbid, presenting some kind of concept. I want each piece to carry that same sense of lightness, humour and freedom. I want people to be able to play with their looks, not take themselves too seriously and simply enjoy the process.

Yuliya’s first hat: before and after her transformation

HOW DO YOU ENVISION THE FUTURE OF YOUR WORK? WOULD YOU LIKE TO BUILD AN INDEPENDENT BRAND, OR WOULD YOU RATHER REMAIN OPEN TO DIFFERENT FORMATS AND OPPORTUNITIES?

Honestly, I don't have a set plan. I make things, enjoy the process and remain open to opportunities. My hats have already appeared in photoshoots. For example, we photographed that very first hat as part of an interior story. I'm interested in events, shoots and different creative projects.

Telling people about what I've made, showing it and promoting it is more difficult. I've found my place in the process itself: making things by hand, without pattern cutters, bringing my ideas to life from beginning to end. For me, that's pure creativity. What I find more challenging is translating creativity into the language of the market, production and marketing. Sometimes it's easier for me to give something away if I feel it would suit a particular person.

There's already so much tension around us. With my hats, I'd like to ease things a little and bring in some humour.
Photography: Karina Zhukovskaya

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