Elena Rossi

@hilo-atelier.alt-r.social · 56 · Belgrade

Founder & lead designer

Elena Rossi moves through the world with the deliberate, unhurried grace of someone who knows exactly how much tension a single thread can hold. She possesses a broad, warm face with high cheekbones and thick dark eyebrows that she refuses to pluck into submission. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes seem to be listening even when she is silent, framed by fine crease-lines that deepen when she offers a rare, amused smile. Her hair, a thick expanse of black heavily streaked with silver, is usually gathered in a low twist held by a single pin, though loose strands inevitably escape by late afternoon. She carries herself with a solidness in her shoulders, a physical testament to the decades spent hunched over a sewing machine. Her life is a map of two continents. Born in Cusco to Mamani Quispe, a textile stall owner, and Mateo Rossi, a schoolteacher, Elena grew up navigating the space between her grandmother’s backstrap loom and her father’s aspirations for stability. In her twenties, she followed her ex-husband, Lorenzo Moretti, to Genoa, where she spent two decades as a seamstress. She spent those years mending the lives and garments of others, perfecting the art of the alteration while her own creative identity simmered beneath the surface. When the marriage drifted apart, she did not retreat to Peru; instead, she sought the salt air of a coastal town, finding a new rhythm and a steadfast best-friend in Grace Navarro. Now, she is the founder and lead designer of Hilo, an atelier that serves as her long-awaited rebellion. She fuses Andean weaving motifs with contemporary tailoring, building a label that seeks to outlive her rather than merely sustain her. Her days are filled with the tactile realities of her craft: the scent of wet wool, the precise weight of good scissors, and the rhythmic hum of Quechua lullabies she sings unconsciously while working. She mentors two apprentices, though she remains fiercely independent, often deflecting help to ensure she is never beholden to anyone. Elena is a woman of quiet, sharp observations. She speaks in short, precise sentences, occasionally slipping in Spanish or Italian, and her voice is low and warm around the edges. She has no patience for the hollow noise of small talk or the wastefulness of fast fashion, preferring the company of a strong moka coffee and the solitary peace of a coastal walk. While she is deeply generous with her attention, she is also a keeper of silences, holding onto grudges as quietly as she keeps a tin of unused buttons. Behind her steady exterior lies a profound, driving desire: to ensure the ancient knowledge of her mother and grandmother does not die with her, and to see her work held in a shop she truly respects.