A round table on sustainable fashion with Kostas Murkudis, Lou de Bétoly, and Julie Kegels
Gold foil on cotton canvas, Kostas Murkudis
photography by Timothy Schaumburg
interview by Camille Ange Pailler
Coated silk in dark green, Kostas Murkudis
Sustainability has become a corporate trope, a well-worn mindset, a broken promise. And yet, these three designers—Kostas Murkudis, Odély Teboul, and Julie Kegels—offer a refreshing, alternative paradigm. Murkudis, once the right hand to Helmut Lang in the1990s, developed a minimalist, pared-down aesthetic that utilizes industrial materials and patterns, championing restraint and simplicity over waste and excess. French-born, Berlin-based designer Odély Teboul, who founded her label Lou de Bètoly [an anagram of her name] in 2017, embraces decadence and extravagance through upcycled materials and a slow-fashion mindset. Julie Kegels, a graduate of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp, launched her eponymous label just last year—after a stint with Alaïa—using fashion to tell stories and defy archetypes with sophistication and elegance.
“Fewers seasons. Less product. Less waste. I want to see fashion return to a slower, more intentional rhythm.” — Kostas Murkudis
Coated cotton gauze, Kostas Murkudis
CAMILLE ANGE PAILLER: How do you define your approach to sustainability with regard to material, creative direction, and long-term vision?
KOSTAS MURKUDIS: For me, sustainability begins with respect—respect for the garment, for the materials, and for the person who will wear it. I’ve always designed with longevity in mind, creating pieces meant to live beyond a single season, rather than chasing applause for a few moments on the runway. Every decision, from the cloth I choose to the way a seam is finished, is made with endurance in mind.
ODÉLY TEBOUL: It’s simply in harmony with the way I work. Much of what I do involves handwork and unique, one-of-a-kind pieces made from upcycled materials. I’m not interested in producing quickly or cheaply—instead, I strive to create something meaningful and lasting. I love sourcing old objects and forgotten textiles, and I often find beauty in things that might initially look like trash. It’s about giving new life to materials and creating emotional value through craftsmanship.
Kostas Murkudis
JULIE KEGELS: I’m especially drawn to fabrics that have already lived a life, whether in a garment or another object, because they carry soul and history. I don’t like to think about it as a strategy; it all has to feel spontaneous and not forced. Working with them feels natural, and it also benefits society. In a broader view, it’s also just better for the industry. This should not be a trend, but a norm. Production-wise, upcycling takes much more effort than traditional production. Sourcing the right materials, unpicking seams, cutting, and carefully checking the quality all add extra steps. That’s why we plan to grow the upcycling part of our collections gradually, making it a little bit more prominent each season, without the risk of losing control of it during production.
PAILLER: How do you balance environmental responsibility with building a lasting, thoughtful design identity?
KEGELS: I don’t see them as opposites. Limiting myself to sustainable choices pushes me to be more creative and intuitive. It’s about putting my emotions on the table and connecting with people who recognize a part of their own story in the pieces. That shared feeling creates identity.
MURKUDIS: That balance is the very heart of my work—an ongoing conversation between design and material. Both must speak the same language. Everything is made in Europe, with most production in Italy, Austria, and Germany, where craftsmanship and quality are non-negotiable.
TEBOUL: We’re surrounded by fast, cheaply made objects—it’s overwhelming. For me, the only way forward is to create slowly and with intention. I’m drawn to craft pieces that feel personal and timeless.
“True sustainability is uncomfortable, slower, and often less profitable in the short term—and that’s why it’s so rarely done with sincerity.” — Odély Teboul
Polo short and matching shorts made out of upcycled bedsheets reworked into a fur-like texture, Lou de Bétoly
PAILLER: Was sustainability always a driving force for the brand, or did it evolve over time?
MURKUDIS: It was never a strategy or a marketing point —it was simply part of my DNA. Sustainability wasn’t something I had to “adopt.” It was there from the start, unquestioned.
KEGELS: I don’t like to force it. It really should be instinctive. I simply used what I found and didn’t want to waste. Over time, I realized how natural and rich these fabrics are. For me, it’s not strategy but feeling; the materials themselves are inspiring.
TEBOUL: Upcycling has always been part of my creative process. But my commitment to sustainability grew stronger when I made the decision to step outside the traditional wholesale system. Now, I present just one show a year, offer rental options, and focus mainly on custom-made pieces. That shift allowed me to stay true to my values without compromising on quality or integrity.
PAILLER: Is there one adjustment most luxury brands could make with relative ease to reduce their carbon footprint?
KEGELS: Valuing craftsmanship over quantity. Every piece is shaped by many hands, each carrying skill and emotion. When you overproduce, you erase that value. Highlighting the people behind each piece would instantly bring meaning back.
TEBOUL: The impact of fast fashion is far more damaging than that of the luxury sector. When I own a luxury garment, it stays in my wardrobe forever. I believe luxury is rooted in longevity and intention, not overproduction. Embracing this mindset can lead to more authentic and sustainable practices.
MURKUDIS: Absolutely—produce fewer collections, and by extension, fewer products. It’s that simple, though not always easy.
Dress made of draped had pleated vintage nightgownsWoolen knitted pant frames with hand picked feathers found in Lou’s parents’ garden, Lou de Bétoly
Top made from upcycled leather, Lou de Bétoly
Deconstructed skirt made with vintage lace, crocheted and embroidered with sequins, crystals, and glass beads, Lou de Bétoly
PAILLER: Have there been moments in your career that deepened your commitment to sustainability?
MURKUDIS: Not in a single, defining moment. It’s always been there—a quiet constant in the way I work.
TEBOUL: I’ve always worked on a small scale. I wanted to focus on what I do best, not on how to make things cheaper or faster. Every time I see a coat or a fully hand-crocheted piece being sold for 20€, I feel the disconnection between real craftsmanship and perceived value. It pushed me to commit more deeply to mindful making. There’s something deeply moving about ancient, handcrafted objects—beaded artifacts, timeworn textiles—that reflect the patience and soul of their maker. It’s a strong contrast to much of today’s throwaway culture, where cheaply made plastic goods and careless manufacturing are the norm.
KEGELS: In my hometown, Antwerp, walking down the Meir [a very busy lane with all the big fast-fashion brands], watching crowds hunt for the cheapest pieces, piling up as much as they can carry, feels sickening. It’s the clearest picture of everything I reject in fashion: mindless overproduction and disposable consumption. It’s simply destructive in every sense.
PAILLER: What motivated you to create your own label?
KEGELS: I wanted freedom. To decide what is worth producing, how it’s made, and who makes it. Having my own label lets me align every choice with my values, not just with market demands.
TEBOUL: I’ve been doing handicrafts since I was five—it’s always been my passion. Creating my own label allowed me to build a space where that passion could fully come to life.
MURKUDIS: It wasn’t part of a grand plan. The industry—and the people within it—gave me the encouragement to take that step. Polly Allen Mellen, among others, was instrumental in giving me the confidence to move forward.
PAILLER: Can you talk about some of the trends we’re seeing with greenwashing within the industry?
TEBOUL: Many brands use the language of sustainability without making real change. Words like “eco,” “green,” or “conscious” get thrown around, but if the core business model is still based on overproduction and waste, it’s just marketing. True sustainability is uncomfortable, slower, and often less profitable in the short term—and that’s why it’s so rarely done with sincerity. [pull quote]
MURKUDIS: I’m not here to point fingers or single out specific brands. The issue is complex, and real progress comes from action, not accusation.
KEGELS: One of the most common tactics is the use of vague language—such as “eco-friendly” and “conscious” without proof. Real sustainability is systemic: it means rethinking the entire structure, not just using it as a marketing tool. For me, it’s about joyfully working with soulful materials, while our team member Mauranne [Ricaille], with her background in sustainability and innovation, ensures depth and integrity in our approach.
PAILLER: What can legacy brands learn from independent labels?
KEGELS: Independent brands can be agile and transparent. We can work closely with makers and tell the real story of each piece. Of course, certain innovations also demand significant financial resources. Larger brands often have that advantage, while for us, it takes more time. For example, digital product passports (QR codes that trace a garment’s full journey) require extra investment. We’re not there yet, but we aim to implement it in the coming years.
MURKUDIS: First, [legacy brands] must be willing to see the truth: the scale of overproduction, the waste, the environmental harm. Then, they must look closely at the reality of the world we live in and take meaningful, responsible action in a way that aligns with their own strengths and identity.
TEBOUL: Do less, and do it better. Legacy brands often have iconic pieces and a rich heritage—that’s incredibly valuable. Instead of constantly producing new collections, why not focus on refining and revisiting those classics? Timeless design, not endless novelty, is the most sustainable path forward.
PAILLER: What is your greatest ambition for change in the fashion world writ large?
TEBOUL: I wish that people could re-learn the true value of garments—to understand what goes into making something by hand, and why that matters. The fashion world needs to move away from fast consumption and back toward care, connection, and craftsmanship.
KEGELS: For fashion to shift from speed to care. Care for the clotheswe make, the people who craft them, and the planet that sustains us. True beauty is impossible without respect.
MURKUDIS: Fewer seasons. Less product. Less waste. I want to see fashion return to a slower, more intentional rhythm. It would bring back the joy of creation, rather than the frantic chase for the next trend, a trend that is often obsolete within moments of appearing on Instagram or TikTok. The future of fashion needs more depth, more soul, and more meaning.
“For this piece, we repurposed old Fair Isle sweaters, cutting them into fragments. The insert in the turtleneck was crafted from these, while other parts found their way into details on different tops across the collection.” — Julie Kegels
“The fur top was created in collaboration with a local fur manufacturer in Belgium, a deeply passionate man with an encyclopedic knowledge of every type of fur. He could tell us the exact age and country of origin of each piece. To my amazement, some coats turned out to be as old as my great-grandparents. Working with garments that had already lived a full life felt extraordinary. These materials carry their own stories, their own histories, and by reimagining them, we breathe new life into them. How beautiful is it to think that each piece has already traveled through time, and now continues its journey in an entirely new form?” — Julie Kegels
