Riff on Rosalía — BERGHAIN

Some riffs begin as silhouettes.
Some begin as materials.
This one began as a feeling of pressure.

Dark room.
Heavy bass.
A woman alone in a crowd, turning inward.

I kept returning to Rosalía in her Berghain era.

Not the pop star.
Not the flamenco prodigy.
The version of her that feels devotional, industrial, erotic, and a little feral.

There’s something about that energy that isn’t performative.

It’s internal.
Private.
Almost monastic.

Like dancing is a form of prayer.

The Berghain riff became a study in:

Dark femininity
Soft menace
Tender strength
Sensuality without spectacle

Not dressed up.
Not pretty.
Honest.

I wasn’t interested in recreating a look.

I was interested in translating a state.

Being alone together.
Moving in place.
Letting the body lead before the mind catches up.

This riff leaned into unisex silhouettes, oversized knits, and prints that feel grown rather than placed.

Nothing sharp.
Nothing loud.
Everything slightly blurred.

Two pieces quietly emerged as unexpected anchors:

The Raccoon knit
The Snow White knit

Neither were designed as “bestsellers.”

They were emotional side characters.

The raccoon became a symbol of scrappy softness.
A little feral.
A little tender.
Surviving.

Snow White became something darker than the fairytale.
Less innocence.
More exile.
A woman alone with her own mythology.

Watching people connect to those pieces confirmed something I keep relearning:

People don’t fall in love with trends.
They fall in love with reflections.

The Berghain riff wasn’t about club culture.

It was about:

Solitude inside intensity.
Devotion without audience.
Wearing your interior world on the outside.

That philosophy still shapes everything I make.

Each riff is a conversation with a song.
Each garment is a fragment of that conversation.

Fashion as feeling.
Not costume.
Not merch.

A diary you can wear.

Sandra
Riffhaus