Words by Hamza Bensouda
Photography by Manon Svoboda
This piece is a supplement within the “Frenquencies” issue

In the midst of a fashion-agitated Paris, a strange crowd forms around a gallery. Different Arabic dialects are spoken, along with French, English, and Spanish, while glasses of champagne are brushed against each other. Through the glass doorway, Khaled and Kraïem watch their friends and strangers talking to each other, and behind them, others are touching, brushing, and trying on outfits from their latest collection. Wherever you look, one word lights up the room and the fabrics: LOUTEH.

In Arabic, louteh refers to the biblical episode of the people of Sodom and is used mainly as an insult in a part of the SWANA region to stigmatize queer people or those who do not conform to society’s heterosexual norms. Over the last four years, Louteh has become for Kraïem and Khaled a symbol of their identity, their commitment, their personal stories, and their brand that dignifies by the needle a word often used as an insult. 

On March 5th, 2024, they opened their showroom with exclusive pieces in a small space in the 2nd arrondissement of Paris. This interview unravels the history of the brand and to spin the cotton with them, tracing the strong commitments of their brand in terms of geographies of influence and eco-responsibility.

Photography by Manon Svoboda

Behind Louteh creations there are two artists. Who are they, and how did they get into sewing?  

Khalid and Kraïem: Behind the canvases and fabrics, before Louteh, was Atelier 413. When we met, one was an interior designer and decorator before becoming a painter, and the other was working in a fashion atelier as a pattern maker and tailor. It was just after the very first lockdown in 2020, following the health crisis, that we brought our passions together to work in a common space, Atelier 423, the space in which the brand Louteh was created. 

Khalid: Since then – in addition to Kraïem’s artistic work and the various services we offer – we developed Louteh, from design to the final assembly of the garments, not forgetting marketing and communications. Everything has been done in our workshop.

The  tandem I saw when I arrived at your showroom reminded me a lot of the work of the Tunisian couturier Azzedine Alaïa with the Tunisian decorator Leïla Menchari. They were asked this question on French television, and I’d like to ask you the same: what elements of architecture persist in your creations?

Khaled: It’s flattering that our work reminds people of Alaïa. We’re fans of his work and reference his world and architecture, and, what’s more, Kraïem is Tunisian. To answer your question, what’s left of the architecture is first the furnishing fabrics that we recover and then the structured pieces. I used to work in tailoring, so there’s this architectural residue in the structure of jackets, in the yoke, in the inlaid pockets, the cut-outs, the details… 

Khaled and Kraïem: On the other hand, what we like to do is break down the structure of the suit. The world of tailoring is a very macho, closed-minded world with the cliché of grumpy, sexist old men who are not open-minded, where the jacket is reduced to being a just a jacket and not so much an object to be reinvented. Louteh likes to break the codes of the men’s wardrobe by adding gathers, volume, and cuffs, thereby changing the masculine look and offering another alternative.

Alaïa also came from a family where his father ran the clan and whom he enjoyed challenging, he said in various interviews. Does this bring back any particular memories for you? As men, how did you cultivate your passion for art while growing up?

Khaled: The reference to Azzedine Alaïa’s father reminds me of my own. I remember being in the middle of sewing when I was still at school. I was ironing a pair of shorts I’d made with lots of colorful patterns when my father saw them and realized I’d made the shorts for myself. It caused a scandal. He used the word louteh in French, so I think I subconsciously had the word in my head. It was just a pair of shorts, and I wondered how wearing them made me gay? In this whole story, it’s my father who’s talking about sexual orientation.

Photography by Manon Svoboda

Kraïem: My challenge was mainly linked to the norms and expectations of society in my country of origin. The style of dress was a kind of challenge for me, because I was trying not to conform to rigid expectations of masculinity. Wearing accessories and a gender-neutral style of dress were an integral part of this. Throughout my life, my experience has led me to use art and design as a means of creating my own world and identity. Meeting people who share the same challenges and approaches has allowed me to deepen this creative exploration and find a sense of belonging.

And then, here comes Louteh!

Khaled: Yes! Two or three years ago, I was sewing for myself and, like every time I create a piece, I classify it and give it a provocative name. The names are adjectives often used to describe women, which I reassign to men, like delicate, sensitive. And then, I got Louteh in Arabic. I looked at Kraïem with the shirt I’d given that name: “What do you think?” He replied, “It could be a brand name.” There was a moment of silence as we were both thinking about the word. Kraïem looked at me and said, “it could definitely be a brand name.” We registered the name immediately after.

How has Louteh helped you to define your identity or your sexual orientation?

Khaled: I don’t think Louteh has helped me to construct my identity, but rather, to affirm it. Louteh, which is and always will be a work in progress, makes a major contribution to self-acceptance, and wearing it is an affirmation of that. And wearing Louteh is an affirmation of self-acceptance. No matter who you are, it’s not about pointing the finger at someone who’s different, it’s about accepting others while accepting yourself.

You give Arabic names to your pieces, which are based on a pattern first identified as European/Western. Why do you do this? 

Khaled: I’m Franco-Lebanese. I was born and grew up in France, and I lived in a bubble. I was marginalized by my family, which was religious enough to protect me from Western influence. For the French, I was too Arab to be French. When I was in Lebanon, I was too French to be Arab. I wasn’t accepted anywhere. 

Kraïem: In our work, there are two influences: the Middle Eastern influence and the Western influence. With me, we also add the Amazigh influence, which comes from North Africa because I’m Tunisian.  All this depends on the fabrics we find, the shapes (like stripes, for example), the volumes and the study of traditional outfits. With the jackets, we’re close to traditional Middle Eastern outfits.

Khaled: The Western influence is also present in the Arab world and especially with colonization in the 20th century. To mention just one country, in Lebanon, there was a sarouel outfit for the “Oriental” side and the blazer jacket which is the “Western side.” To illustrate, in this look you can see the tarbouche, the trousers which are a mix of sarouel and suit, and the jacket which is a hyper oversized suit jacket with the look of a qamis.

Are your references more European or more Middle Eastern, and if there is a synthesis between the two, is it a conscious process? 

Khalid and Kraïem: We don’t necessarily take inspiration from the work of stylists or designers, even though we admire and love them. In fact, there are no pieces made by stylists or designers in our moodboards. We rather have references to painting and architecture, such as Arab façades and doors. There are also animals, artistic installations, sculptures, etc. It is the volumes and colors that come from these that give us material for sketches, technical drawings and finally the patterns creating the clothes. 

Photography by Manon Svoboda

Collecting and repurposing old, left over, or about to be trashed materials and fabrics to create unique pieces – or what we call up-cycling – also seems to be a characteristic of clothes made in Louteh. Can you say about this?  

Khalid and Kraïem: At Louteh, we recycle fabrics, not clothes, although we do have a few pieces in that category. We also collect furnishing fabrics, such as the magnificent sofa fabrics and curtains. Curtains are wonderful because there’s a big yardage that you can re-use, and they’re easy to cut. In general, we take them back from fashion houses at the end of a series, when they’ve finished a collection and there’s some fabric left over. Because we have experience in these houses, we have contacts that enable us to pick up dormant stocks from time to time. For example, we can make patchwork jackets from the wool we collect from tailors.

So we’re more about recycling than up-cycling. We do this for several reasons. First, for a brand just starting out, it’s a lower economic cost, even if you sometimes have to pay for recycling. But more importantly, there’s the idea of avoiding waste, because the fashion industry is one of the most polluting. We need to set an example by recovering discarded and burnt meterage that can be saved. We’re outraged by this real waste, and want to avoid becoming part of this eighth continent of waste.

So is upcycling for you a future already here, or a present destined to last forever?

Khalid and Kraïem: It’s a present future that should have been foreseen! Recycling and eco-responsibility are current issues, but they should always be future issues when they are developed. Eco-responsibility is very minimal. It’s hardly a match for the big fashion industries. 

It’s all very well and good to recycle fabrics, but some use bottles specially created for recycling. So, to get recycled certification, they produce plastic bottles to create the fiber and therefore so-called “eco-responsible” clothes. One step forward, four steps back. Governments need to find ways of banning this kind of fast fashion.

All the 100% eco-responsible stuff is nothing compared to the extent of fast fashion. Since fashion is all about selling dreams, they sell by making people believe that they want the clothes, not that they need them. 

And with upcycling, you create unique and colorful pieces. How do you decide on these pairings, and where do the color schemes you choose come from?

Khalid and Kraïem: The colors come quite naturally to us once we’ve made our mood board. There are often certain colors that come up again and again, which give rise to a range of tones. When we design, we have several boards: the main mood board and the garment-specific boards, where we work on the colors that often stand out. Natural colors and elements also come up a lot, like the desert, its volume, its warm shades. This can also be found in Arab architecture – links are forged between arts practices. 

So, are you referring to “raw” nature or urban architecture ?

Khalid and Kraïem: We don’t necessarily mime one or the other. We’re inspired by what’s around us, but we’re also aware that we’re very political. Because Louteh’s DNA is all about controversy – like when we created a brand named after a homophobic slur – it’s inevitably mixed with the richness of our cultures and the personal confrontation between East and West. Beyond that, we respond to the vulgarity of the insult with our romantic impulse. We listen to Chopin and love the Romantic period, whether in Europe or in the Arab world. It came almost naturally, and now it’s more than necessary.

Photography by Manon Svoboda

I like to end with spontaneous questions. Which divas inspire you?

Khalid and Kraïem: The diva who inspires us both the most is Sharihan, a global reference in pop culture. We could say so much about her from her exceptional outfits alone, but also from her hyper-creative shows at the time.

What is the earliest memory you have of contact with fabric?

Khalid and Kraïem: There’s no real oldest memory of fabric, because you’re wrapped in it from birth. Cloth is present at birth and at our death in the shroud that surrounds us. But I bounce back to the carpets because they reveal a mosaic of memories.

What is the one thing that helps you to overcome all the obstacles of the Louteh project? 

Khalid and Kraïem: The fact that there are two of us and that we have the same life and career plans. We complement each other and that’s the only luxury we can afford.

What fabrics do you dream of upcycling?

Kraïem: Persian rugs. I think that carpets are pieces of fabric that give luxury and elegance. In Tunisia, we work with margoum. In every family, grandmothers, aunts, and old aunts who didn’t necessarily go to school have made margoum their business. After cleaning and cooking, they would work the carpet,  and every house had a loom to work the wool and depending on the shape of the carpet. They tell a story. 

Khalid: I totally agree. We’ve always wanted to work on carpets. Quite simply because they represent a whole culture. This is Louteh’s next project.