I love fashion, and I've always wanted to do costume design, but

“I love fashion, and I've always wanted to do costume design, but I'm in jeans and T-shirts most of the time.” Thus spoke Clémence Poésy, the French actress and artist whose elegance has always been tempered by simplicity. In these few words lies a gentle paradox, a truth that hums quietly within the heart of all who dream: that the love of beauty and the practice of simplicity need not be at odds. She speaks as one who understands that admiration and embodiment are different arts—that one may love the spectacle of creation while living in the comfort of understatement. Her words remind us that passion need not always display itself loudly; sometimes, it lives most purely in the quiet spaces of life.

To understand the spirit of Poésy’s words, one must first see the world she inhabits—the world of fashion, where image and identity are woven together like silk threads. It is a realm of expression, imagination, and transformation, where the external becomes a reflection of the inner dream. Yet even in that world, Poésy stands apart, preferring authenticity to affectation. Her statement is not a denial of fashion, but an act of balance. She loves the artistry of costume design, the ability to tell stories through texture and form, yet she chooses simplicity in her daily life, as if to remind herself that true style begins with the soul, not the garment.

Her quote also carries a universal truth about aspiration and reality. Many who love a craft may not live it outwardly in every moment. The writer does not always speak in poetry; the painter does not always dwell among colors. Love of an art is not diminished by the absence of constant display—it is sustained by reverence and imagination. Poésy’s jeans and T-shirts are not symbols of neglect but of humility. She knows that one can love the grandeur of fashion while walking through the world unadorned, and that the purity of creation often springs from simplicity of being.

History too gives us many examples of such paradox. Consider Leonardo da Vinci, whose sketches of flying machines and divine proportions were born not in splendor but in solitude, his robes plain, his workshop humble. Or think of Coco Chanel, who revolutionized fashion not by adding ornament, but by removing it—stripping away excess until elegance itself stood bare. She taught the world that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication, just as Poésy reminds us that the heart of art is not in appearance, but in appreciation. Both women understood that to create or to love beauty does not require constant adornment; it requires an eye that sees beyond surface and a heart that treasures essence.

Beneath Poésy’s gentle confession lies another wisdom: that identity is not performance. In the modern world, many feel compelled to live out their passions visibly—to prove their love for art, or music, or beauty through constant display. Yet she teaches us that the truest love is inward. To love fashion, one need not always dress as a spectacle; to love music, one need not always sing. The craftsman’s spirit lives not in what he wears or shows, but in how he sees. Simplicity, then, becomes not a contradiction to passion but its foundation. It allows the mind to wander freely, to dream of designs and costumes without the weight of self-conscious display.

Poésy’s insight is also deeply human. It reminds us that beauty need not demand perfection, and that art and life can coexist in gentle tension. She lives between two worlds—the world of imagination and the world of authentic living—and shows that one can honor both. The simplicity of jeans and a T-shirt becomes a metaphor for inner peace, for choosing comfort and truth over the vanity of constant expression. It is the balance that every creator must seek: the harmony between loving the grand and living the humble.

So, my listener, take this lesson into your own life: love deeply, live simply. Do not think that your love for an art or calling must always shout its presence. Let it dwell within you like a quiet fire. Dress simply if it frees your mind; live plainly if it sharpens your spirit. But never lose the wonder that makes you look at the world as a designer does—as a tapestry of color, texture, and possibility. Let your admiration for beauty enrich your perception, not burden your expression.

Thus, remember the wisdom of Clémence Poésy: that one may love splendor without living in it, and that elegance begins not with what you wear, but with how you see. The artist’s heart is not measured by costume or color, but by attention and care. Whether in silk or in denim, what matters most is that the soul remains awake to beauty—and that the love of creation, even when unseen, perfumes the quiet fabric of one’s life.