It begins with sanctuary: shells as protective homes for small marine creatures.
Structured silhouettes, enclosed forms and shell-inspired textures stand for safety, shelter and the harmony between organisms and their habitat.
Protection is often admired for its beauty, but rarely understood for its necessity. When detached from its purpose, fragility is left exposed.
Seashells are admired as beautiful objects washed ashore, but they are shelters for countless small marine creatures. When they are collected as souvenirs, the creatures that depend on them are left exposed to predators, harsh conditions, displacement and death. I turned this overlooked loss into sculptural garments about protection, exposure, vulnerability and survival.
I built the story into the garments as a three-layer system. Structured outer layers contain: sculptural, tactile, compelling. Beneath them, fluid forms suggest dependence and exposure. In select looks the protective structures are deliberately removed, and the silhouette shifts. The change is controlled, almost indifferent, mirroring how casually protective systems are taken.
It begins with sanctuary: shells as protective homes for small marine creatures.
Structured silhouettes, enclosed forms and shell-inspired textures stand for safety, shelter and the harmony between organisms and their habitat.
Then human intervention breaks the balance, and the shells are gone.
Aggressive wave-inspired manipulations, footprints, distressed surfaces and fragmented structures stand for habitat loss and the invisible consequences of seemingly harmless actions.
The final looks are about adaptation. Displaced and vulnerable, life keeps searching for refuge.
Evolving forms, exposed textures and reconstructed protective elements reflect resilience, and ask for a deeper awareness of how delicately we are tied to the natural world.
My research began with what shells do on a beach. Collected as souvenirs, they are shelters for hermit crabs, small molluscs and other shoreline invertebrates: protection from predators, harsh weather, dehydration and the battering of waves. Every shell taken leaves fewer homes and more competition for the ones that remain.
I read about hermit crabs, who depend on abandoned shells to grow, move and reproduce, and studied the coast itself: wave action, erosion, the textures a shoreline keeps.
What may appear insignificant to us can be safety, survival and home to another living being.
I took the palette from the shoreline and the homes of small marine creatures: sand, shell, weathered stone and washed coastal blue for a calm familiarity, then sharper accents for uncertainty and the hidden dangers faced by creatures without shelter. It moves between soft and harsh, the way the shore does.
I experimented with draping, gathering, layering and structural development in muslin, which is versatile, affordable and honest about every structural change. As the manipulations evolved they suggested silhouettes on their own. None of them is decoration: each one carries part of the story.
Used in Shore and The Last Shell
Parallel stitched channels and quilting. Evenly spaced lines, steered in direction, raise rhythmic ridges and recessed valleys, so stitching becomes a way to build form rather than only join it. The fabric can then hold complex three-dimensional shapes without much internal support.
Used in Erosion
Shaped panels overlapped in succession, each partly covering the one beneath. The controlled overlap builds depth, shadow and volume; changing the size, placement and angle of each panel turns simple units into something architectural.
Used in Shore
Controlled slashes in an upper layer open onto a contrasting fabric beneath. The placement, spacing and shape of the cuts create depth and texture while the textile keeps its structure, and the exposed underlayer brings contrast in colour, texture or material.
Used in After Math
Tension in the stitching compresses the cloth into organic ridges, folds and undulations. Varying the spacing and density of the rows changes the depth of the relief, which catches light and shadow while the fabric stays soft.
Used in The Last Shell
Continuous, directional pin tucks that read like ocean currents and sediment across a seabed. On the dress they run the full length of the body and flow straight into the sculptural volumes.
Each muslin sample was a study of how a flat textile becomes a three-dimensional surface. On the form, the studies began to suggest garments.
Only then did I sketch. I didn't copy shells; I abstracted their layered surfaces, ridges and enclosing forms into silhouettes, testing proportion, volume, balance and movement until the ideas spoke of protection, exposure and disruption.
Shore is about the hidden cost of taking shells home. Sculptural shell forms stand for the shells removed, embroidered crabs for the creatures left without shelter, and a footprint for human intervention: a seemingly harmless souvenir that tips the balance of a coastal ecosystem. I kept the lower silhouette clean so the story sits on the jacket.
The ocean floor after its shells are gone. Shell forms swell from the silhouette as enlarged, distorted remnants that no longer shelter anything. Flowing pin-tuck lines mimic currents and sediment across the seabed, and embroidered marine motifs surface between the folds: the creatures left exposed.
Shells begin as strong protective structures. Waves, sand and time wear them down, softening edges, opening fractures and revealing new textures beneath. Here, layered sculptural panels peel away from the body like weathered fragments found along the shore.
The silent aftermath of human interference. The front stays minimal and undisturbed; the back carries a sculptural manipulation shaped like the exposed body of a creature that has lost its shell. An act seen as harmless becomes a story of exposure and survival.
In the book as an illustration: a grey halter dress cut through with red.
A statement evening gown: a sculpted shell cape bodice with a dramatic pleated ruffle backing.
It is the narrative foundation of the collection: seashells as sculptural forms rather than literal objects. Inspired by the ocean floor after its shells are removed, it turns protective structures into exaggerated volumes and flowing organic lines. The sand-toned palette is the sea bed; the emerging marine elements are the fragile life once protected inside.
The construction is about sculptural texture through structured linear channels and controlled distortion. Parallel stitched folds run across the garment to set direction, contour and three-dimensional form. Boning and fishing wire inside selected channels hold the volume and stability, while still letting the curves move like shells.
Front and back flats: channels from neck to hem, a spiral at the front hip, a cocoon at the back.
The base garment's flat sketch, and its key pattern pieces: centre front, side front, side back, centre back.
The base garment toile, pinned on the form.
Inside the dress: the seams finished along the zip and through the bodice.
Hand-embroidered marine motifs, set between the folds.
Padding the bust, pinning the channelled bodice, draping and shaping the shell volumes.
The Last Shell, finished.
35 hours of labour, one channel for each.
Cutting4 h
Sewing18 h
Manipulation10 h
Finishing3 h
Beauty is not always meant to be possessed; sometimes it is meant to be left where it belongs.
My graduation collection for the B.Des in Fashion Design, 2022 to 2026, at Presidency University School of Design, Bengaluru. Faculty mentor: Madhusudana M, Assistant Professor.
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