Can you tell us a bit about yourself Meagan?

I am originally from Bermuda, born and raised. My mum is from Barbados, so I had that mix, because Bermuda is seen as Caribbean but we’re more of a British colony.

From living in London, I can see the Englishness of Bermuda a lot more, versus Barbados, which is a lot more Caribbean.

I moved here when I was 17 to study fashion. Most of my family are creative, so I couldn’t help myself.

Even if some aunties do something a little more serious, they’ll also do music or baking. Everyone has some sort of creative flair somewhere.

Growing up on an island, in a small community, there were lots of family gatherings. Food is such a big thing in Caribbean culture, so it was always about coming together.

My grandma was Seventh-day Adventist, while I’m Christian and worship on Sunday. They called us Sunday worshippers. It was interesting because it’s the same God, but Seventh-day Adventists worship on Saturday.

When I stayed with my grandma, I had to observe the Sabbath on Friday. You couldn’t watch or listen to anything worldly.

It could be frustrating as a child, because everyone would be at the beach and I was stuck in a building. If I couldn’t go outside on Sunday either, my weekend was gone.

But the Seventh-day Adventists were very much about community. There was a meal after the service, with all the aunties and uncles bringing trays of food.

They also had a kitchen to feed people who were homeless or struggling. I could see the pros and cons of both approaches to faith.

How does that influence how you operate today?

I still like to keep a day of rest, or a day to clean and reset. I find it quite important to make sure everything is done and tidy. I still try to go to church.

It’s good to have a space with some sort of foundation that roots and guides you, especially living in London away from family. It gives you a compass.

How did your family feel about you moving away?

They miss me a lot. However, I told them from the age of 13 that I was leaving. Bermuda is beautiful and I love it, but it is very small.

If you’re an artist and you’re not doing something abstract, people don’t really know what to do with you. My focus was fashion, but because I’m not a stereotypical fashion person, people would ask, ‘Are you sure?’

If you're an artist and you want to expand your work globally, you need to step into a bigger arena.

At the time, people associated fashion with runway drama and programmes like America’s Next Top Model. I didn’t have time for that energy. I would rather be normal and have respect for people.

What’s the story behind the name M-Sew?

It’s my full name: Meagan Stephanie Electra Wellman. Stephanie and Electra are the names of my grandmothers, and both of them were seamstresses.

My paternal grandma passed away last year. Unfortunately, sometimes when elders pass away, that is when you find out so much.

People started sharing stories, and I found out she had once had a shop in town. Nobody had told me until after she died.

Growing up, I spent a lot of time with her. She looked after grandchildren and neighbourhood children while working from home.

She did custom dresses and church attire for women in the church and corporate women — classic 1950s and ’60s looks, very well-tailored and finished. My mum’s mum was also a seamstress.

Do you have siblings?

No. My parents gave me a lot of attention and care, but with my mum being a teacher she was very careful not to spoil me. I could never say I was bored.

She would tell me that she had taught me an array of skills, from using high-quality art markers to pastels and charcoal, so I could fill my time.

Because my parents were artists, I had access to lots of art materials, but they taught me to use everything correctly.

If I was going to use supplies that cost hundreds of dollars, I needed to know how to use them and wash the brushes properly.

When did you know that you wanted to pursue fashion?

It was around GCSE and A-level age, when I was about 15 or 16. My mum taught art and pottery and my dad was working in web development and graphics mainly at the time.

Because of his work, we always had both a PC and a Mac in the house, even in the mid-to-late 1990s. It was early internet, early tech and early graphics.

I downloaded GIMP and used Macromedia and Adobe. My dad taught me how to render illustrations on a computer, but it was still glitchy, so I found it easier to draw by hand, scan the work and then colour and render it digitally.

At school, a technician with a textiles background introduced textiles to the curriculum. I made a multimedia quilt for my GCSE art project and realised I liked the medium.

I also did costume and stage design for my theatre in Bermuda. I became involved in anything to do with clothing and thought, ‘I would love to do this.’

What inspires you in London?

My inspiration always starts with nature. Growing up on an island, it’s inevitable because you’re surrounded by it all the time. Then it expands outwards, depending on what I see.

Sometimes I take cheeky shots of people outside because I see a cool look. There are so many cultures here and so much clash, which I find interesting. Those are usually the sparks of inspiration.

Have you had a mentor?

A family friend, Charles Leon O'Brien, is a businessman back home. He helped me understand teamwork.

I would get frustrated and think, ‘Why can’t we just get it done?’ He told me, ‘Not everyone is you. Nobody thinks like you, so you need to communicate effectively. You can’t expect people to just get it.’

He also taught me that when looking for a team, you need to know what you want first and then let it come to you. Don’t force it too much, because you might hire or work with someone who isn’t quite right.

Sometimes the person may not be exactly what you had in mind, but their different skills and exposure add another dimension and perspective.

How did that mentoring relationship begin?

I started working when I was around 13 because my mum is very West Indian in that way. She called it ‘the I wants’. She said, ‘You’ve started to get the I wants, so you need to get a job.’

Instead of packing groceries for tips, I ended up working for Mr. O'Brien as his PA. I could touch-type because I wanted to be like my mum, who had been a secretary. He would dictate and I would type his documents. It was a great experience.

Which collection or pieces of your work are especially meaningful?

I have a collection linked to the pieces here in the cafe. I have always liked lines, but lately I’ve been interested in their repetition and continuation. They can be like ripples.

I like being creative but also quite controlled. In the studio, I allow myself a moment of chaos to get whatever is in my mind out.

Then I think, ‘This is enough now. We need to funnel it, clean it up and pull out what can really work.’ The lines capture both sides: they can flow, but there is a start and an end, and still some unity.

What materials did you use for those pieces?

Those are digital. In a way, everything has gone full circle. I downloaded apps on my Samsung tablet because I wanted to illustrate collections and make sketches.

At the time I was more involved in upcycling, so I was drawing the same kinds of lines on garments to see how they might look. Those pieces came out of that process.

Are they standalone artworks or part of your fashion development work?

They are quite standalone, especially the second one with the orange swirls in the back. The others can work together cohesively, but they weren’t necessarily sketches for garments. It was me exploring and getting back into illustration.

When I do upcycling, it is always a one-off. The first collection of images on Instagram, with denim and faces, was a capsule collection. The second, more grungy studio set was all one-offs.

Are you also returning to canvas and paint?

I’m looking to get back to it. I went to the Camden Art Centre with a friend who is now a fine artist, and they have a room where the public can draw and make things.

It was full from floor to ceiling with materials. I thought, ‘I have to make sure I come back here and get into it again.’

Where did you study?

I studied at the University for the Creative Arts in Epsom. I liked it.

It was a good transition from home because London might have been distracting — it’s everything, all at once, and it was my first time by myself in a big country and city after coming from Bermuda.

I did a four-year course with the foundation year included. I had wanted to go to London College of Fashion or Central Saint Martins, but I was rejected because I had been advised that my International Baccalaureate Diploma was equivalent to a foundation course.

UCA accepted me because of the strength of my illustration skills. Later, I met people who had come from London universities and heard how cut-throat they could be.

I thought perhaps it had worked out better for me. UCA also focused more on hands-on skills such as pattern cutting, which has been very beneficial throughout my career.

For an early group presentation about Alexander McQueen, I produced illustrations in my own style, mixing anime and fashion. Everybody else had done the standard fashion-book sketch, so I thought I had done it wrong.

During the presentation, I clicked past my illustrations quickly, but my lecturer, Ezinma Mbeledogu, made me go back and asked who had made them. I admitted they were mine. She looked at me and moved on.

I later received the top grade for that project. She came into the room asking where I was, told me I had the highest grade and said, ‘Keep it up.’

Most of the lecturers and technicians were great and very supportive. UCA worked out well.

What does it take for an artist to thrive in a city like London?

Grit. You also need a good community because when things get tough, you need supportive people to fall back on.

After I graduated, most of my friends were international and went home due to visas or other reasons. London life also started to affect the friends who remained: people were busy or broke.

I was staying with my godfather’s daughter in Bromley, which felt isolating because it took so long to get anywhere.

At the same time, I was working at Harvey Nichols as freelance work dried up. The woman I was working with had to move because her visa wasn’t renewed. A lot of things stopped abruptly.

How did you reconnect with your agent?

My agent, Acer, is one of my best friends from when I worked at Harvey Nichols. We had fallen out of touch because life happens.

He went to New York and Los Angeles to work in PR, while my life went in another direction.

When I wanted to do a sale after the Design festival, I reconnected with him. Our relationship is quite unique.

I help him if he has a pop-up shop and needs another pair of hands. We did one in Shoreditch a few years ago and are looking to do another.

I had previously hired an agent and was paying monthly for all these services and showroom visibility, but nothing came back. I kept asking whether I could meet buyers or attend events, and thought, ‘Why am I paying you?’

It wasn’t a good relationship. My connections in London were limited, so reconnecting with someone I trusted helped.

What’s your approach to selling and pricing your work?

Pricing is hard. I tend to let Acer do it because I have an annoying habit of underselling myself. I know the value, but I also see the flaws.

Because we both worked in luxury retail for a long time, we know pricing, value, quality and finishing. You also have to decide where you want to sit in the market.

My philosophy has always been that I want people to buy the work, but I want them to cherish it.

It won’t be Primark pricing, but it won’t be Louis Vuitton either. I’m aiming for an entry-level luxury or high-level premium price point — aspirational but achievable.

Working in luxury retail affected how I sell and create collections. I try to use materials that are as natural and non-man-made as possible because the quality is better.

My mum still has items from when I was a child that are 100 per cent cotton and have lasted because she kept them well. Polyester breaks down, isn’t good for every climate and holds odour. Natural, organic materials also help justify the price.

How do you balance creative ideas with what customers can actually wear?

Some brands are very theoretical or focused on editorial, which is great. But how does that funnel down to something for a person who loves the aesthetic and can actually wear it?

You have to know whom you’re trying to reach. It isn’t necessarily about catering to them, but finding a balance.

There is risk-taking too, because you never know whether the product, price and environment in which it is sold will work for the person who picks it up and tries it on.

Storytelling helps, and that is something I’m working on.

What would you recommend to someone who wants to pursue life as an artist?

Take your time. When I started, I thought I would be in a completely different place.

Showing in New York Fashion Week with Harlem's Fashion Row opened my eyes and made me ask, ‘Is this what I want? Is this how I want it to look?’

Enjoy the journey, the steps along the way and the people you meet. Try to be present. Even when things aren’t working, explore and experiment.

Art isn’t necessarily something that will make you money immediately. It’s abstract and subjective. I saw that growing up with artist parents.

My mum would sell her work at Harbour Nights, a weekly street festival in Bermuda. Some weeks she might make nothing or only two sales.

The next week, ten people might return after thinking about it, and some would commission a whole dinnerware set. You have to stay in it. If you don’t love it, don’t do it.

What’s the community like at Mainyard Studios?

I think it’s great and very collaborative. I haven’t done any collaborations yet because I haven’t been in the studio consistently, but Charlotte, my neighbour, is a jeweller. Rachel, whose company is Threads, has been incredibly helpful from day one.

The studio manager, Vivian, is amazing. She made sure I went to the Grow London event and is always encouraging us to get out, develop our businesses and make new connections.

Are there places in Hackney Wick that you particularly enjoy?

I usually come to Vaffancoffee where some of my work is featured. I also really like Luk Bros. The beef brisket I had last time was so good, and the dumplings are nice. They’re cool guys.

What would you like readers to picture when they hear about the artist and fashion designer M-Sew?

Hopefully they see someone relatable and down to earth. I’m out here doing things and my aim is to be as authentic and responsible as possible.

I’m also community-led. Community and education are my top two pillars within my practice.

Tell us about your brand and what you're currently building at Mainyard Studios.

My main label is M-SEW, which specialises in print-driven womenswear and resortwear. Growing up in the islands, vibrant color, bold prints, and effortless silhouettes were always second nature to me.

With M-SEW, I bring that island narrative into modern, high-end resortwear. Alongside M-SEW, I also founded Papillon, which is our upcycling sister brand. Responsible design and circularity are incredibly important to me.

Through Papillon, we re-imagine materials and deadstock textiles, giving them a second life through creative craftsmanship.

Being based at Mainyard Studios in Hackney Wick surrounds me with an amazing creative ecosystem that fuels that vision every day.

This story was drafted by Suru with AI assistance from the reporter's audio and notes, and was passed through Suru's journalism check (sourcing, neutrality, verifiability) before publication. Editorial responsibility: James Sandoval.