This is not where my story starts but it is where the story you need to know about me starts, this is all you need to know about me, at least for now, let me introduce you to my paradise ;  I found kind of paradise, it was probably only a paradise for me, it was like my own paradise, I was not alone in it, others were also living there. It was a poor, violent sometimes and illegal paradise but the vibes  were so pure, it was like traveling the world by being only 2 miles away from home. This market took place during weekends and gathered the poorest people of Paris who were selling what they found in the bins of the capital during the week. You could find anything, I really mean this last word, you could find almost any single thing your mind can think of… yes that too, yes…I told you, any…single… thing… 

Most of the stuff were found in the bins but some were stolen in shops, some sellers were here once in a while just to make money occasionally and some were here every weekend since 2018, some had kids with them, others didn’t, some were in groups, others were by themselves and all were foreigners, some had a job during the week, others were completely homeless, some only spoke spanish and a lot were generous, all were trying to survive. There were fights sometimes, thefts every single time, the police coming most of the time. The vibes were immaculate, people were smiling, cracking jokes, listening to loud music, nobody was on their phone, everybody was exchanging, bargaining, living life. It felt like we were living in the 80’s, as if time had stopped for a few hours, as if we were somewhere else, in a timeless place. The streets were dirty most of the time, smelt bad sometimes, kids were playing, they were financially poor but rich in moments, rich in souvenirs and in pure emotions. I like having anything, because anything is more than something and a lot more than everything, having everything means there are a lot of things distracting you from what you need in order to be happy, anything is even better than nothing. 

There were Algerians & Morrocans, Romanians, Hungarians, Tunisians, Chinese, an American woman and other hundreds of people, everybody was living in harmony, with quarrels sometimes as in any healthy relationship, but in harmony. “Mamas” were shouting “Cola, water, coffee, bissap ” while pushing their mobile cart, others were screaming “cigarettes, cigarettes, cigarettes” or yelling “cheap price, 1 euro per piece, cheap cheap” and kids were playing. All had an accent, all Northern East European women were called “Maria” and all men were nicknamed “khouyas”. Here is the start of any single piece of cloth I made, here is their story, their common story, they’re from all over the world, lived so different lives but all of them end(ed) the same the way, they all died at some point, all had a plastic coffin, I just try to bring them back to life, to give them a better one, the best they ever had, they speak to me about their past and I try to give them the best future possible. This is their story, not mine, we don’t care about mine, this might be our story but it is their story first, this is LOUROY story, this is the beginning of LOUROY story. 

PS : I’m still looking for a manufacturer to make the thousands of clothes I drew in the past 6 years. After sending thousands of emails, making dozens of samples, going to two fashion fairs in Paris, and doing door to door in India a couldn’t find a manufacturer, the answer was always the same, “your clothes are too complicated to make in small quantities”. I could not find a manufacturer may a manufacturer find me ?