The Artist I Wore to School: Wearable Art, Memory and Teaching

From classroom style to wearable art

When I was teaching, especially during the years I worked in bilingual schools in Madrid, Albacete and Frankfurt am Main, I loved wearing beautiful, colourful clothes to school.

I wore a lot of skater skirts. I liked the way they moved, the way they worked with boots and simple tops, and the fact that I could still sit comfortably and modestly with children on the floor. I often wore bike pants underneath and long socks in winter, so they were practical as well as expressive.

The children noticed.

They noticed the colours, the patterns, the earrings I wore and the little details. Clothes became part of the conversations we had about art, colour and design. Over time, it became part of the “Miss Maria” identity they had of me. If I ever turned up in jeans, some of them were genuinely surprised.

I did wear pencil skirts too, particularly when I had time away from the classroom or when I wanted something a little more structured. I loved them with high boots, especially during my years living in Europe.

Looking back now, I realise the artist in me was everywhere I went. She was in the way I dressed, the things I collected, the classroom displays I made, the jewellery I chose, and the way I invited children to notice colour and pattern in the world around them.

Some of the clothes I bought during those years have stayed with me for decades.

London, with my friends and housemates Dina and Kimra. We later lost touch — this was before the technology we have now. My photographs were taken on film, I didn’t own a computer, and my mobile phone was really just for making calls. I loved this skirt and kept it because of the beautiful detailed sewing and because I could wear it with almost any simple top. It was an easy statement piece in a busy city like London. I also loved this cropped black jacket because it allowed the pattern and shape of the skirt to remain visible.

When I was teaching in London, including working with children with additional needs, I bought two skirts that were very expensive for me at the time. They cost around £250 each — close to a day’s salary, or, put another way, almost the amount I was paying for a week’s rent for my room in Barnes.

I kept them.

And somehow, they still carry that period of my life with them. They remind me of London buses, travelling through the city, crossing towards Hammersmith, going to work, and of who I was then.

Looking back, I can see that what I loved about those skirts was not only the colour or the shape. I loved that one beautiful statement piece could work with the simplest things I already owned. A plain top, a cropped jacket, boots — and the skirt carried the story. It made getting dressed easy in a busy city, but it also made what I wore feel like me.

I think that is part of why I have kept certain clothes for so long.

I have never had a huge collection of clothing that I wanted to preserve. It is quite small. But the pieces I have kept are treasures to me because they are tied to people, places and stages of life. I still have clothes from my own childhood. I have my child’s baptism dress. I have photographs that sit beside these garments and bring the memories back.

Over time, these things become more than clothing. They become a kind of family archive.

I like the idea that some pieces are worth keeping for decades, rather than wearing briefly and discarding. They can be passed on with their stories — a photograph, a memory, a place, a person. The value is not only in the fabric. It is in what the garment has witnessed.

That idea now influences how I think about the clothing I design for Maria Grujicic Studio. I do not want to make endless products for the sake of having more things to sell. I would rather create a small collection of distinctive pieces — skirts and dresses that can be worn simply, enjoyed for a long time, and perhaps even become part of someone else’s memories.

Family textile and baptism archive: My child’s baptism dress, clothing from my own childhood, family photographs and textiles bring together ritual, motherhood, memory and intergenerational inheritance. My collection is small, but these are pieces I have chosen to keep because they carry more than material value — they hold people, places and moments in our lives, and some may one day be passed on with their stories.

That is something I think about now when I design clothing using my own artwork.A piece of clothing can become more than something we wear. It can hold memories. It can remind us of a place, a person, a classroom, a season of our lives.

This is part of what has led me to develop wearable art for Maria Grujicic Studio.

I have been developing skater skirts, pencil skirts, and a small collection of girls’ and women’s dresses using artwork from my own studio practice. Some designs grow from paintings and mixed-media studies; others connect with the visual worlds of my picture books and creative-learning projects.

Upcoming wearable-art designs

Tactile Study — Pencil Skirt, design in development

Tactile Study — Girls’ Sleeveless Dress, design in development

Tactile Study — Skater Skirt, design in development

I particularly love the movement and playfulness of skater skirts and dresses. They remind me, in a way, of the clothes I loved wearing when I was teaching — expressive enough for children to notice, but simple enough to wear with an ordinary T-shirt, boots or sandals.

I am still testing fabrics, printing, sizing and suppliers, and I want to keep the collection small rather than continually producing more and more things. My hope is to create a few pieces that feel worth keeping.

Perhaps that is what I learned from those old skirts in London.

Beautiful things can travel with us for a very long time.

And sometimes they carry our stories with them.