The whole swimwear category seemed driven by sexualisation, with craftsmanship and construction barely a thought. Elastic and rubber dug into my bum and hips. The padding was heavy and impossible to remove, and once wet it shifted and folded out of place. Straps slipped off my shoulders or cut into them. Tops and bottoms were sold as a set, as if bust and hips were always the same size. One-pieces pulled at the torso because they were never cut for a real length of body. And why such minimal gussets? After a few wears, the fabric bagged, faded and gave up entirely; my most expensive swimsuit even left colour stains on the towel. There was no panelling, no corsetry and no real support, and the shapes weren’t doing anyone any justice.

I could see all of this, even though I had no background in fashion. What I did have was engineering. I graduated with a bachelor’s degree in software engineering and spent many years at Sony Ericsson building the first smartphones, work where precision is everything and nothing is left to chance. So I bought a sewing machine, taught myself to sew through YouTube, and began applying that same analytical thinking to the architecture of a swimsuit, drawing on the structure of traditional corsetry and shapewear.

My first hire was a phenomenal pattern cutter in Bristol, and I had never met anyone so obsessed with her craft. I spent a weekend at her house, and all we did was sew. She saw the same obsession in me and took me under her wing, both to teach me and to help me make the first collection.

All the while, I was working full-time at Harvey Nichols. My lunch breaks became my studio, and my office was the bathroom. Yes, really; you get on with it. I would lay a big sheet of fabric across the floor, spread my patterns over it, and take calls with the factory. One day, a girl knocked on the door, wondering what on earth I was doing in there. Fair enough.

My designs carry both sides of who I am. My Persian heritage brings the glamour and the femininity; the Swedish influence brings the clean, architectural lines, free of prints and bows. And I’ve never limited myself to swim fabrics. Alongside ECONYL® regenerated nylon, I work with fabrics you would normally find in gowns and couture dresses, fabrics you would never expect to see on a swimsuit.

The collection is small, and that’s deliberate. Each piece has been worked on for years, refined the way you would upgrade software, one improvement at a time. Every version holds better, fits better and lasts longer than the one before. The details are all there for a reason: corset boning and underwires for lift, double-layered tummy control, memory straps and torso adjusters, and 24kt gold-plated front closures that add push-up and extend the life of the garment. The Victory swimsuit, our hero piece, sculpts an hourglass. The Peplum Skirt, one of our own inventions, creates the illusion of broader hips for straighter figures.

To me, that is what sustainability really means. It’s the piece you reach for over and over again, the one that lasts the test of time and every shape your body moves through over the years, and the one you come back to because you know it will make you feel supported.

Over the years, the collections have been worn by Beyoncé, Kate Upton, Nicole Scherzinger, Paris Hilton and many more, and have appeared in The New York Times, Vogue, Forbes, Harper’s Bazaar, ELLE and L’Officiel. But what I’m most proud of is the messages from women.