You came to London at a young age. Were you mostly educated in London?

There was a lot back and forth. If you add it up, I have spent many more years here, so I am really a Londoner. But I do have this Cypriot and Turkish thing as I went to primary school there, from the age of 5 to 12, and then again from 16 to 18. I lived there only nine years of my life, but they were formative years.

How has Cyprus influenced you?

Cyprus is a small island, with the sea, good weather and good food. There is no design culture there. It has fed my sensual and historical curiosity, but the pursuit of fashion design has come from London.

Do you think you could have realized this unique body of work if you lived in any other city?

No! Absolutely not. London has a unique Anglo-Saxon, progressive and tolerant status that no other city in the world has, though I think New York comes close. One reason is that, compared to other places in Europe, it has a longer history of immigration; therefore, it has to be tolerant toward newcomers. Another reason is the weather. When the weather is bad you're indoors more and inclined to produce things. In countries where the weather is hot, there is more interest in going out and having fun. It's a banal thing to say, but I think it has a huge impact.

Warm and coastal environments have more of a beach culture…

It’s about looking good and having sex. Of course there is plenty sex here. Sex galore! But what makes London unique is that everyone is from somewhere else. Part of this openness is a result of past actions. Colonial atrocities had to be reconciled with the arrival of immigrants from those countries.

Furniture dresses, fall '00

When I met you, you were working on your graduate collection, burying dresses in your back garden and then unearthing them.

People think if you do something that is earthbound or rustic that it’s regressive. But it's not. I find the buried dress is as progressive and contemporary as the LED dress.

I agree. It was just as radical, and it remains as timeless.

That’s a good point; you've known me so long. Like the buried dresses, my olive grove has nothing to do with technology. Sometimes technology is required, but sometimes it’s just not about that.

Tell me about your time at Central Saint Martins.

St Martins is a very a harmonized college. One can be accepted with a still-life portfolio, another as a total fashion victim and another with an architectural background. St Martins is such a colorful place, like the film Fame.

Is that why London design is known for its resourcefulness?

More because it's poor. There is money in the financial markets perhaps, but there is no money in fashion. A lack of money makes people more inventive and passionate.

Yes, passionate. You have always had such a passion for technology, art, architecture, film and anthropology, any of which you could have excelled in, yet you chose fashion. Why?

I think I wouldn’t have succeeded at all! The point of interest for me is that I chose fashion and my kind of approach to fashion doesn’t often exist. That was my aim always. It’s the fact that I was creating these ideas around clothes. Had I done films, I would have just done films. There wouldn’t have been any merging of worlds.

But why clothes?

I was surrounded by women when my parents split up. I was pretty young. They were very strong women, but also quite vulnerable. I have always been interested in the empowerment of women. And I'm obsessed with the body. Whatever we create as humans—buildings, vehicles, systems— they're all amplification of the body. I always wanted to celebrate it and include it in everything I do. My parents pushed me to be an architect, but I thought no, it has to be about the body, so I decided to study fashion.

Yet architecture is also very much about the human scale.