Rewrite and translate this title Renaissance Renaissance is the Lebanese label with resistance at its heart to Japanese between 50 and 60 characters. Do not include any introductory or extra text; return only the title in Japanese.

When the video call connects, Cynthia Merhej is sitting in the busy confines of a Parisian cafe, with cutlery clinking and plates clattering around her. “Can you hear me?” she asks. “I’m like a grandma – I always get very paranoid when people can’t hear me on the phone, and then I start yelling.”

As the founder of cult womenswear brand Renaissance Renaissance, the Palestinian-Lebanese designer spends half her time in her native Beirut, where local artisans help produce the label’s clothes, and the other half in Paris, where she is now. Merhej has just shown Renaissance Renaissance’s SS25 collection at an intimate presentation in her own apartment, and though a critical success, the moment was tinged with bittersweet. With the ongoing crises in Palestine and Lebanon looming, it’s difficult for the designer to focus on the positive, but rather than succumbing to darkness, Merhej channels this duality into her work. “When everything started happening in Gaza last October, I was working on my autumn/winter collection, and it was very difficult because the situation was incredibly depressing,” she tells me. “I now wanted to think about ideas of freedom, while still being very much influenced by this militarised context that I find myself in.”

The resulting SS25 collection brought together romance and politics in seamless style, with feminine silhouettes and ruched drapery offset by military-grade materials and parachute-inspired construction. Thick, Aberdeen cottons and ripstop fabrics associated with the army were shown alongside diaphanous tulle and frayed ribbons, while actual repurposed military jackets appeared as camouflaged capelets and asymmetrical skirts. “I’m very interested in those in-between areas,” says Merhej. “If I’m someone who is politically engaged, but I’m also someone who loves beauty and culture and fashion, what would be the result of that?”

Merhej’s political engagement was born from the instability of Lebanon in the 90s and 2000s, but this never stopped her from seeing the beauty in the world. After a childhood spent obsessed with the arts – and a love-hate relationship with fashion – Merhej travelled the 2,700 miles to London for art school, landing at both Central Saint Martins and the Royal College of Art. After returning to Beirut following her studies, Merhej picked up the family tradition started by her great-grandmother and continued by her mother, becoming a third-generation couturier and launching Renaissance Renaissance in 2016 as “a celebration of women-led couture”. With small, sustainable drops favoured by the likes of Chloë Sevigny, Caroline Polachek and the LVMH Prize panel, Merhej’s brand is morphing into the Cool Girl cult label of any designer’s dreams, but at the heart of that is a very real impetus to support peace and liberation for Palestinian and Lebanon.

Below, we catch up with the designer about the inspirations behind her romantic new collection, her continent-spanning career, and whether fashion can ever be a vehicle for resistance.

Hi Cynthia, congratulations on your new collection. Before we get into that, I wanted to start with your name – why Renaissance Renaissance?

Cynthia Merhej: The name itself very much represents how I view the process of creating, which is this idea of constant evolution. I also liked it because I found that the name has such a classical connotation, while the meaning of it is really the opposite of traditional or classical. The meaning is about always moving forward, but the word feels classic. I found it a good marriage of the two ways I work, which is coming from this very traditional heritage of garment-making, but also trying to push it forward and bring my own stamp to it.

You described your SS25 collection as a ‘quest for liberation and lightness’ – can you expand on the ideas behind that specific quote?

Cynthia Merhej: I mean, I’m Palestinian-Lebanese and it’s been a really difficult time in my region, for both Lebanon and Palestine. When everything started happening in Gaza last October, I was working on my autumn/winter collection, and it was very difficult because the situation was incredibly depressing – it still is incredibly depressing. Since then I have been going through a personal journey in terms of finding lightness in myself through therapy and education. I was able to approach this season with a more positive mindset. I now wanted to think about ideas of lightness and freedom, while still being very much influenced by this militarised context. Also, through my research, I discovered that the poppy flower was used as a symbol of liberation for Palestinians in the 70s and 80s. I just thought it was a beautiful tie-in.

The clothes that you make feel very romantic, but there’s this political current running through. How do you personally reckon with that juxtaposition of light and dark, romance and politics?

Cynthia Merhej: I have a side that can be quite militant or very politically engaged, and at the same time there’s another side of me that feels like we can solve everything through beauty – let’s make life beautiful, let’s make life harmonious. Internally, I have this constant push and pull. It’s something you can’t really avoid when you grow up in Lebanon, because politics is life. When things don’t work, when there’s no infrastructure, you ask ‘Why are things this way?’ The answer is always because of politics. The first ten, 11 years of my life, Beirut was just rubble. It’s things that are a part of you and a part of your life.

I think what I’m trying to do is be as true to myself as possible. I’m very interested in those in-between areas. If I’m someone who is politically engaged, but I’m also someone who loves beauty and culture and fashion, what would be the result of that?

“Around the age of 14, I had an epiphany watching Fashion TV. I was like, ‘What the fuck? I shouldn’t do this.’ It felt shallow and really surface-level” – Cynthia Merhej

So, for you, being very politically engaged but also loving fashion aren’t mutually exclusive?

Cynthia Merhej: They exist together for me. Yes, I’m a person who’s very interested in what’s going on in the world, but I still like to go out, I still like to get dressed, I’m still sociable, I’m still very culturally engaged. I don’t think that it has to be one or the other. But I do think fashion is an industry that’s very surface-level, as we know. People just want to digest things very quickly. Because of the nature of social media, everyone wants something fast, and not very nuanced. I don’t want to subscribe to that.

Were there ever any points where you thought ‘I don’t want to do this’ because of the way the fashion industry is?

Cynthia Merhej: I felt that way when I was younger. I really wanted to go into fashion – it was very natural for me to think of things through clothes. But it got to a point when I started to become even more politically aware, thinking much more critically about things. Around the age of 14, I had an epiphany watching Fashion TV. I was like ‘What the fuck? I shouldn’t do this.’ It felt shallow and really surface-level. It was just like a voice in my brain told me that. It took me a really long time to be able to learn to accept that side of myself.

When you moved to London you studied both Visual Communication at RCA and Illustration at Central Saint Martins, rather than fashion.

Cynthia Merhej: After that I moved back to Beirut because I came to the eventual conclusion through all my studies that I really still love fashion, very much [laughs]. Everything I was studying, I was always linking it back to fashion. I applied for internships in fashion houses and no one took me because I didn’t study fashion. I was like, ‘the only way to do this is just do it myself.’ My mom isn’t going to be around forever, and she’s this incredible source of knowledge. It would be idiotic of me not to just go and try.

Do you think that the back-and-forth relationship with fashion has made it stronger? Because you know you definitely want to do it?

Cynthia Merhej: For sure, yeah, because it’s not for the faint of heart.

You mentioned earlier that some pieces are crafted from repurposed military jackets – how important is the idea of circularity and sustainability to the brand?

Cynthia Merhej: It’s just very core to how I think. Maybe it’s the part of me that was very aware of capitalism from a young age. This idea of consumption for the sake of consumption, it’s a huge turn-off. My mother had been through war, and she had this mindset of only buying things that last. I grew up watching her go out of her way to get the best fabrics so our clients come back.

There wasn’t this idea of fast fashion when I was growing up, it was a very recent thing that started when I was a teenager. Before that, there wasn’t Zara or H&M. The ideas of consumption are relatively new in Lebanon, and they’re very Western. It’s not about making maximum profit for me. Yes of course I want to make money to survive so I can make a nice collection next season, and so I can keep delivering a higher quality of product, but that’s it.

Your great-grandmother and mother were also couturiers in Lebanon – obviously there’s so much pride in that legacy, but is there a weight of expectation that comes with it?

Cynthia Merhej: The first generation was my great-grandmother, so she passed away, so there were no expectations. My mum was the youngest of nine kids, so, honestly, no one had time for her! She just picked up sewing on her own, and it was kind of the same with me. Yes, there was a lot of expectation from my mum, because she would see me sketching and say ‘You’re going to be a designer!’ I was like, ‘calm down [Laughs]. I need to figure it out for myself!’

Of course there’s the expectation, I’m not going to lie and say I never felt pressure from it, but I’m really, really lucky I get to work with my mom and have this legacy, because if I didn’t it would be so difficult for me to have a brand today. It’s a huge privilege.

“In Lebanon it’s very political to wear the keffiyeh… it really made me realise that a piece of fabric could say so much and have so much meaning” – Cynthia Merhej

Do you feel that fashion can be a site of revolution or a vehicle for resistance?

Cynthia Merhej: Yes, I think it can. I think it’s one of the number one sites where it could be, because it’s something that’s so easy. There’s nothing easier than just wearing something to signify your stance. It’s a very simple tool to express a political position, but unfortunately I don’t think it’s being explored enough.

It’s still really important, though. Look at the keffiyeh for example – it’s become such a political tool. When I was growing up, in Lebanon it was very political to wear the keffiyeh. I remember one time I wore it to school and I got bullied. I got threatened, like, ‘We’re gonna kill you’ or whatever by some stupid idiots in my class. But it made me realise that a piece of fabric could say so much and have so much meaning.

And finally, are there any other prominent creatives who inspire your work?

Cynthia Merhej: Obviously there’s Etal Adnan, who’s a painter and writer, but her writing is super inspiring to me. There’s Dorothy Salhab Kazemi the ceramicist, Elia Suleiman the Palestinian film director, the artist Mona Hatoum. I’m more inspired by what’s going on in fine arts, performance and music [than fashion] because I can feed it more into my practice.

Of course, there’s still the usual suspects, like Comme des Garçons or Vivienne Westwood, but I realised I am quite drawn to designers that were self-taught, or didn’t necessarily come from a fashion school background. You’re not going through this indoctrination in a way, you kind of have to come up with your own way of thinking, and your own perspective which is influenced by so many different things.

Scroll through the gallery above for Renaissance Renaissance’s entire SS25 collection

When the video call connects, Cynthia Merhej is sitting in the busy confines of a Parisian cafe, with cutlery clinking and plates clattering around her. “Can you hear me?” she asks. “I’m like a grandma – I always get very paranoid when people can’t hear me on the phone, and then I start yelling.”

As the founder of cult womenswear brand Renaissance Renaissance, the Palestinian-Lebanese designer spends half her time in her native Beirut, where local artisans help produce the label’s clothes, and the other half in Paris, where she is now. Merhej has just shown Renaissance Renaissance’s SS25 collection at an intimate presentation in her own apartment, and though a critical success, the moment was tinged with bittersweet. With the ongoing crises in Palestine and Lebanon looming, it’s difficult for the designer to focus on the positive, but rather than succumbing to darkness, Merhej channels this duality into her work. “When everything started happening in Gaza last October, I was working on my autumn/winter collection, and it was very difficult because the situation was incredibly depressing,” she tells me. “I now wanted to think about ideas of freedom, while still being very much influenced by this militarised context that I find myself in.”

The resulting SS25 collection brought together romance and politics in seamless style, with feminine silhouettes and ruched drapery offset by military-grade materials and parachute-inspired construction. Thick, Aberdeen cottons and ripstop fabrics associated with the army were shown alongside diaphanous tulle and frayed ribbons, while actual repurposed military jackets appeared as camouflaged capelets and asymmetrical skirts. “I’m very interested in those in-between areas,” says Merhej. “If I’m someone who is politically engaged, but I’m also someone who loves beauty and culture and fashion, what would be the result of that?”

Merhej’s political engagement was born from the instability of Lebanon in the 90s and 2000s, but this never stopped her from seeing the beauty in the world. After a childhood spent obsessed with the arts – and a love-hate relationship with fashion – Merhej travelled the 2,700 miles to London for art school, landing at both Central Saint Martins and the Royal College of Art. After returning to Beirut following her studies, Merhej picked up the family tradition started by her great-grandmother and continued by her mother, becoming a third-generation couturier and launching Renaissance Renaissance in 2016 as “a celebration of women-led couture”. With small, sustainable drops favoured by the likes of Chloë Sevigny, Caroline Polachek and the LVMH Prize panel, Merhej’s brand is morphing into the Cool Girl cult label of any designer’s dreams, but at the heart of that is a very real impetus to support peace and liberation for Palestinian and Lebanon.

Below, we catch up with the designer about the inspirations behind her romantic new collection, her continent-spanning career, and whether fashion can ever be a vehicle for resistance.

Hi Cynthia, congratulations on your new collection. Before we get into that, I wanted to start with your name – why Renaissance Renaissance?

Cynthia Merhej: The name itself very much represents how I view the process of creating, which is this idea of constant evolution. I also liked it because I found that the name has such a classical connotation, while the meaning of it is really the opposite of traditional or classical. The meaning is about always moving forward, but the word feels classic. I found it a good marriage of the two ways I work, which is coming from this very traditional heritage of garment-making, but also trying to push it forward and bring my own stamp to it.

You described your SS25 collection as a ‘quest for liberation and lightness’ – can you expand on the ideas behind that specific quote?

Cynthia Merhej: I mean, I’m Palestinian-Lebanese and it’s been a really difficult time in my region, for both Lebanon and Palestine. When everything started happening in Gaza last October, I was working on my autumn/winter collection, and it was very difficult because the situation was incredibly depressing – it still is incredibly depressing. Since then I have been going through a personal journey in terms of finding lightness in myself through therapy and education. I was able to approach this season with a more positive mindset. I now wanted to think about ideas of lightness and freedom, while still being very much influenced by this militarised context. Also, through my research, I discovered that the poppy flower was used as a symbol of liberation for Palestinians in the 70s and 80s. I just thought it was a beautiful tie-in.

The clothes that you make feel very romantic, but there’s this political current running through. How do you personally reckon with that juxtaposition of light and dark, romance and politics?

Cynthia Merhej: I have a side that can be quite militant or very politically engaged, and at the same time there’s another side of me that feels like we can solve everything through beauty – let’s make life beautiful, let’s make life harmonious. Internally, I have this constant push and pull. It’s something you can’t really avoid when you grow up in Lebanon, because politics is life. When things don’t work, when there’s no infrastructure, you ask ‘Why are things this way?’ The answer is always because of politics. The first ten, 11 years of my life, Beirut was just rubble. It’s things that are a part of you and a part of your life.

I think what I’m trying to do is be as true to myself as possible. I’m very interested in those in-between areas. If I’m someone who is politically engaged, but I’m also someone who loves beauty and culture and fashion, what would be the result of that?

“Around the age of 14, I had an epiphany watching Fashion TV. I was like, ‘What the fuck? I shouldn’t do this.’ It felt shallow and really surface-level” – Cynthia Merhej

So, for you, being very politically engaged but also loving fashion aren’t mutually exclusive?

Cynthia Merhej: They exist together for me. Yes, I’m a person who’s very interested in what’s going on in the world, but I still like to go out, I still like to get dressed, I’m still sociable, I’m still very culturally engaged. I don’t think that it has to be one or the other. But I do think fashion is an industry that’s very surface-level, as we know. People just want to digest things very quickly. Because of the nature of social media, everyone wants something fast, and not very nuanced. I don’t want to subscribe to that.

Were there ever any points where you thought ‘I don’t want to do this’ because of the way the fashion industry is?

Cynthia Merhej: I felt that way when I was younger. I really wanted to go into fashion – it was very natural for me to think of things through clothes. But it got to a point when I started to become even more politically aware, thinking much more critically about things. Around the age of 14, I had an epiphany watching Fashion TV. I was like ‘What the fuck? I shouldn’t do this.’ It felt shallow and really surface-level. It was just like a voice in my brain told me that. It took me a really long time to be able to learn to accept that side of myself.

When you moved to London you studied both Visual Communication at RCA and Illustration at Central Saint Martins, rather than fashion.

Cynthia Merhej: After that I moved back to Beirut because I came to the eventual conclusion through all my studies that I really still love fashion, very much [laughs]. Everything I was studying, I was always linking it back to fashion. I applied for internships in fashion houses and no one took me because I didn’t study fashion. I was like, ‘the only way to do this is just do it myself.’ My mom isn’t going to be around forever, and she’s this incredible source of knowledge. It would be idiotic of me not to just go and try.

Do you think that the back-and-forth relationship with fashion has made it stronger? Because you know you definitely want to do it?

Cynthia Merhej: For sure, yeah, because it’s not for the faint of heart.

You mentioned earlier that some pieces are crafted from repurposed military jackets – how important is the idea of circularity and sustainability to the brand?

Cynthia Merhej: It’s just very core to how I think. Maybe it’s the part of me that was very aware of capitalism from a young age. This idea of consumption for the sake of consumption, it’s a huge turn-off. My mother had been through war, and she had this mindset of only buying things that last. I grew up watching her go out of her way to get the best fabrics so our clients come back.

There wasn’t this idea of fast fashion when I was growing up, it was a very recent thing that started when I was a teenager. Before that, there wasn’t Zara or H&M. The ideas of consumption are relatively new in Lebanon, and they’re very Western. It’s not about making maximum profit for me. Yes of course I want to make money to survive so I can make a nice collection next season, and so I can keep delivering a higher quality of product, but that’s it.

Your great-grandmother and mother were also couturiers in Lebanon – obviously there’s so much pride in that legacy, but is there a weight of expectation that comes with it?

Cynthia Merhej: The first generation was my great-grandmother, so she passed away, so there were no expectations. My mum was the youngest of nine kids, so, honestly, no one had time for her! She just picked up sewing on her own, and it was kind of the same with me. Yes, there was a lot of expectation from my mum, because she would see me sketching and say ‘You’re going to be a designer!’ I was like, ‘calm down [Laughs]. I need to figure it out for myself!’

Of course there’s the expectation, I’m not going to lie and say I never felt pressure from it, but I’m really, really lucky I get to work with my mom and have this legacy, because if I didn’t it would be so difficult for me to have a brand today. It’s a huge privilege.

“In Lebanon it’s very political to wear the keffiyeh… it really made me realise that a piece of fabric could say so much and have so much meaning” – Cynthia Merhej

Do you feel that fashion can be a site of revolution or a vehicle for resistance?

Cynthia Merhej: Yes, I think it can. I think it’s one of the number one sites where it could be, because it’s something that’s so easy. There’s nothing easier than just wearing something to signify your stance. It’s a very simple tool to express a political position, but unfortunately I don’t think it’s being explored enough.

It’s still really important, though. Look at the keffiyeh for example – it’s become such a political tool. When I was growing up, in Lebanon it was very political to wear the keffiyeh. I remember one time I wore it to school and I got bullied. I got threatened, like, ‘We’re gonna kill you’ or whatever by some stupid idiots in my class. But it made me realise that a piece of fabric could say so much and have so much meaning.

And finally, are there any other prominent creatives who inspire your work?

Cynthia Merhej: Obviously there’s Etal Adnan, who’s a painter and writer, but her writing is super inspiring to me. There’s Dorothy Salhab Kazemi the ceramicist, Elia Suleiman the Palestinian film director, the artist Mona Hatoum. I’m more inspired by what’s going on in fine arts, performance and music [than fashion] because I can feed it more into my practice.

Of course, there’s still the usual suspects, like Comme des Garçons or Vivienne Westwood, but I realised I am quite drawn to designers that were self-taught, or didn’t necessarily come from a fashion school background. You’re not going through this indoctrination in a way, you kind of have to come up with your own way of thinking, and your own perspective which is influenced by so many different things.

Scroll through the gallery above for Renaissance Renaissance’s entire SS25 collection