J.Kim puts Uzbekistan on the fashion map

J.Kim transforms forgotten chronicles into modern expression, rooted in close observation and emotional depth. At its core is designer Jenia Kim, whose work carries the quiet weight of her Koryo-saram heritage – ethnic Koreans displaced from the Soviet Union to Central Asia. Now based in Tashkent, Uzbekistan, Kim makes space for her complex ancestral journey to linger in every detail. Fabrics fold like worn cloth wrapping precious objects, silhouettes echo the dignity of things made by hand, traditional embroideries adorn contemporary forms. Through projects like her collaboration with Anton Belinskiy, J.Kim finds ways to tap into hidden pockets of culture, stitching together histories scattered across borders that resonates on a deeper, more universal level.

J.Kim’s latest collection, unveiled at Paris Fashion Week, propels this exploration of identity and belonging even deeper. As she recently stepped into motherhood, J. Kim’s signature sense of domestic warmth and intimacy finds a new dimension. This shift is not only sentimental – it is a quiet act of preservation, taking inspiration from aunties’ crafting clubs. As she nurtures a new life, she also nurtures the stories of those who came before her, embedding personal memory and cultural heritage into every fold and stitch.

There is a stillness to J.Kim’s world – a sense of quiet poise. Its nostalgia is subtle, never clinging to the past but always in conversation with it. Through delicate gestures and meticulous craftsmanship, Kim depicts the intricate identity of Uzbekistan beyond what you see in a museum – binding together fragments of history and reworking them into something undeniably present. 

Hey, lovely to speak to you! How are you feeling today?
I feel great! I just managed to arrange a babysitter, and I’m happy because from today I can work and have my baby in our office.

Ah, cute! I want to start with the beginning of J. Kim. How did the idea of the brand first arise?
I started drawing and sewing clothes for dolls when I was a kid. I think it’s been my destiny to be a designer, I grew up around a lot of people working in handicrafts. I started studying fashion when I was like 16 or 17. I just wanted to be a fashion designer and after all the internships, university, college, I launched my brand. It was around 2016 that I started to be curious about my identity and translating it through fashion. 

And was there something specific that prompted you towards thinking about your identity through that lens?
I’ve always questioned myself as a result of experiencing different issues with my identity. Being Korean and living in Russia, I struggled with this a lot. We moved to Russia when I was 11, and I always had trouble with my nationality. In the beginning, I just dreamt of being Russian because I was ashamed and scared about being Korean. But when I started working seriously on my brand, I realised that my identity isn’t a weakness – it’s who I am. The challenges I faced at school gave me a strong desire to show that my identity is something special and valuable. It’s not bad or something to hide; it’s beautiful. I wanted people to see that through my brand, to love me and my culture through what I create.

That’s beautiful! How has that personal relationship to your identity and heritage evolved since the beginning of that exploration?
It’s been a very healing experience. Now, I can say that I no longer feel ashamed of being Korean or coming from Uzbekistan. That means a lot because I remember how it was such a big problem. This whole journey – learning, researching, and meeting other Korean people – has been incredibly helpful. It helped me understand who I am and made me realise that our story is very complicated. It also gave me a new perspective on my family’s history. I came to understand that I can’t hold myself to the same expectations as others because my relatives faced so many hardships. They were displaced from Russia to Uzbekistan, lived in poverty, and didn’t have the chance to study – they had to focus on survival. When I learned more about my family’s story and our people’s history, I began to understand myself better. I stopped being so hard on myself, and everything became a little easier.

The way you channel that understanding of your roots into your brand feels like a profound act of care and gentleness – it’s a sentiment that is definitely visible. How do you approach rendering it through clothing?
I’m glad that it inspires people. I just tried to translate the feelings I experienced, and often it goes back to the feeling of home. When I lived in Russia, I used to work with nostalgia a lot, and there are some details that evoke it for me. And usually it’s bright textiles, like Uzbek textiles, like in our veil jacket. Or it’s some prints that I make from the photos that I take here in Tashkent. Or it’s patterns, for example. One collection about Soviet modernism is a good example of how I work with pattern-making – I just took pictures of several buildings and then transferred their architecture to the clothes. 

This reminds me of something you said in an interview – that you want to portray a feeling of Uzbekistan rather than a literal depiction. What is the feeling that permeates your homeland for you?
First of all, I want to show that Uzbekistan is not only Chapan [adorned coat or robe] and Suzanis [traditional embroidered textile] and stuff like that that we see in museums. I’m Korean and I want to show that this country is also multinational. In Tashkent, I want to showcase some places that not a lot of people can see. I go to bazaars, I stay a lot with the local people. It’s not about this ancient architecture, it’s about the broader culture – when you go to someone’s home, they give you their food, they offer you their flip flops. I remember this feeling and then I transfer it to the clothes. It’s always different, whether it’s a family offering me tea or a woman that is working here in our studio. She’s a muse for me. She’s always wearing multi-layered looks, with sweaters, dresses, leggings of all the different textures. She’s a true inspiration for me. We even have some clothes that are called by her name, Lazat. She inspired me to create the Lazat trousers that are combined with a skirt. They are more minimalistic and modern but still influenced by what Uzbek women wear. 

You’ve moved around a lot, from Moscow to New York. Coming back to Tashkent now, does it feel right to be here and plant your roots?
Yeah, I feel that I’m in the right place because recently I became a mom. And now I also have a family here. My boyfriend is Uzbek and I always joke that my baby is like the concept of my brand because she’s half-Korean, half-Uzbek. I feel really great because here I found a balance between work and life. Before, I just worked for 10 years and I didn’t know anything except work. And here, I find inspiration naturally, because this place is what I talk about in my work. 

It sounds like you’ve arrived at a very organic and intuitive way of working. Coming back to your clothing, I feel like interacting with your work has always evoked a sense of serenity and peace, while maintaining a certain freshness for me. Would you say in some way this feeling is a reflection of your personality?
I don’t know. I can’t say that I was really peaceful before. I think that I am now but it’s quite recent. Maybe you feel like that because most of the time making a collection I think about what home is and the warm memories I associate it with. For now, I’m working on the FW26 collection and it’s about motherhood. 

Excited to see it! And can you tell me more about the collection you’re presenting at PFW?
The collection is about handicrafts. I was thinking a lot about women’s power. Not in a successful business woman sense, but about women who make home a very powerful and cosy place. I was thinking about my grandmother who works with her hands a lot. I think it’s because I was pregnant at that time. I wanted to stay at home a lot and I wanted to have the feeling of this cosiness. I wanted to translate this feeling of wanting to make a nest for your future baby into the collection.

This side of womanhood deserves so much more space in the fashion landscape. How did you transfer this sentiment design-wise?
We have, for example, T-shirts and bags with a print of embroidery patterns. Or bags and tops and bags that look like they were embroidered by silk ribbons. And there are also jackets with puffs. My grandmother used to make these puffs for curtains and sofa covers. I reworked this cut and put it in the finishing.

I would also love to know about your iconic petal cutout – I also associate it with femininity and tenderness. A recurrent element throughout your collections, what is the story behind it?
We have a video where my relatives are packing my aunt’s jewellery. And the five-year-old me is also on this video, observing. And when they make a knot it looks like the puffer jacket I made with these cutouts. When I saw all these bales of fabric at bazaars in Tashkent, I couldn’t explain why I just fell in love. And here you can see it everywhere, because everyone packs their clothes in scarves or just a piece of textile. They put all the clothes in the middle and then they tie it up. At the end, it looks like my puffer jacket. It’s where I took this element. 

But you only saw the video quite recently, right?
Yeah, it was after I made the jacket, and I was in shock. I first created the puffer when I was doing a collection about Koryo-saram people. I just imagined – I don’t know how it was actually – how Korean people packed their clothes and moved from Korea to Russia and then from Russia to Uzbekistan. And I just had this idea that they took this piece of textile and they put all the precious belongings into this textile and they carried it with them. I imagined the person carrying a lot of bales. And that’s how I created this puffer jacket. After, I just took this pattern and we made our petal pants and long sleeves, which became very popular. And now some people think that J. Kim is only about these cutouts. I don’t really like that because I also do a lot of good things that are sometimes overlooked because most people associate me with just these cutouts.

I get that! What are some of your other favourite design choices and elements that you would like people to pay more attention to?
For example, the Kurok shirt that I made in 2020. I was inspired by Uzbek blankets. It’s a patchwork, with all the triangles made by hand using the Kurok [a type of patchwork] technique. It’s made of hand-painted textile, too. I also have some clothes with handmade Suzani embroidery. And I think that they’re also special because I reimagined Suzani, making this old technique look modern.

We’ve also spoken about motherhood a lot. How has entering this new era of your life influenced your creative process and approach?
It’s changed a lot. I feel like I’m more inspired because I’m finally more relaxed. I was a very tough person, and I used to work non-stop. I think because of that, I was moving quite slowly. When you try too hard, there is no space for free air and energy. Now, I’m more confident about myself because I know that I’m not only J. Kim. I also have a family. And if my brand disappears, I’ll still have something. Before, I couldn’t imagine myself without the brand. This newfound confidence gives me more energy and allows me to enjoy my work in the studio more, which helps a lot with the creative process. 

Beautiful. It’s so paradoxical that sometimes you need to lessen the pressure to allow your ideas to flow.
It doesn’t mean that you always have to be relaxed. I’m still a very hard-working person but for now I’m in a good balance. Before, I was pushing too hard. 

I’d also love to know more about the creative scene in Tashkent. How has it evolved since you started, and what does it feel like to exist there artistically?
I can’t say that it’s changed a lot. I think for the last 10 years they’ve been showing quite similar things but there are a few upcoming artists. For example, I’ve had great interns and one girl is starting in Central Saint Martins now. She’s also from Tashkent and is doing collections about Uzbekistan in a modern way. All these girls are young and don’t have brands yet but looking at their work gives me a lot of hope. When it comes to designers, I can’t say that I like someone because it just looks too old-fashioned for me but it is beautiful and yeah it is beautiful and I respect their work, it’s just not fashion. It’s hard because there isn’t a strong industry or creative education available here. Cinematography is really strong here though, and there are a lot of great documentary photographers and directors.

It’s great that you’re pioneering the scene though. I’m sure voices like yours will help awaken the city’s creative potential further. On a final note, what is your biggest aspiration or dream for J.Kim?
There is no one dream actually. I want to make an art school and I want J. Kim to be recognised internationally.