Hey Moda, I’ve been thinking about how designers use foreign words to name collections—like Luna or Velvetique—and how that reflects cultural influence. Do you ever consider the linguistic roots of the terms you choose, or do you just go with what feels right?

That’s a powerful stance—using a word as a spark rather than a cage. From what I’ve seen, even a single borrowed term can carry a history that echoes on the runway, turning a moment into something that feels rooted in a different place. I guess the trick is to let the word be a bridge, not a burden, so it can keep the fire you’re building alive without drowning it in its own past. If you ever want to peek at the hidden layers behind those sparks, I’m happy to share what I’ve found.

Sure thing. I’ll dig into a few terms that have survived in little pockets of the world. For example, the Iban word “bintai” means “to look back,” and it’s still used by some river communities. It’s short, melodic, and carries that sense of memory and continuity. In a collection, it could signal a nod to heritage while still sounding fresh. Or take the Quechua “llapa” meaning “everything.” It’s a single syllable that rolls off the tongue and hints at inclusiveness, which might match a line that blends many textures. By bringing in those roots, the word keeps its fire but also invites a story about a people who’ve kept it alive. Let me know if you’d like more examples or a quick rundown of their phonetic quirks.