FRANCK SORBIER, poet designer

He's discrete, perceptive of his surroundings, fascinated by RONSARD'S rimes or BORIS VIAN'S prose.
He loves nature, its strength, the anchor in the rocky soil, the red of volcanos, the silk of butterflies.
He sings BRIAN ENO, listens to DAVID BYRNE, adores passionarias and the faces of geishas painted by SERGE LUTENS.
He breathes to create, creates to breathe, hides behind the humor of a veil and smiles in front of Beauty and the Beast.
He dresses women who believe in the Legend of the Kite, and the Tales of Incense.
He reinvents Parisian elegance, precious embroidery, noble fabrics, post modern furbelow.
He's been consecrated Grand Designer and only deals with Grande Couture, couture that bewitches, fulfills, haunts him...
Academic uniforms for ZAO WOU-KI, lyrical costumes for VERDI'S Traviata, whimsical sheath for a visitor of the night, an unforgettable wedding dress for a romantic lady, a digital frock for a blossoming young girl. Excellency everywhere and for all.
He hides behind his white smock, his black goatee and his juvenile smile. Like a seaker of beauty, an intellectual of cut, a scientist of charm, a Haute Couture poet...