“V., have your sizes gotten bigger?”

“V., have your sizes gotten bigger?”
When I say that I hear what you say, what you ask for, what you notice, and what you criticise—I mean it sincerely.

Because I love my brand deeply, I care about creating something that responds not only to my own subjective wishes, but also to your needs.

That is why sometimes, while standing in front of the mirror and complaining that our pattern makers should make something just a little shorter or adjust it in a way that would appeal more to me, I eventually surrender to common sense and admit:

A bare midriff simply will not work for the majority of our customers.

So all those “belly-baring” pieces can stay exclusively in my own wardrobe.

And when I don’t listen? When I continue insisting?

Do you know how I get reminded?

I am told that if a garment fails because of my personal preferences and unchecked ambitions, I will be the one heading to Kalvarijų Market and laying my little shirts out on the pavement to sell by the entrance.

So, long story short—I listen.

I listen to the wise and experienced pattern makers, to the V&V girls who work with you every day, and to you yourselves.

But lately, I feel like I have been placed in a very unusual position.

Actually, not one corner.

Two corners.

In one corner are the women who love fitted clothing, remain loyal to a more classic style, confidently choose high heels, and—much to my admiration—wear them through entire working days.

Please don’t misunderstand me—I am not criticising.

It is incredibly feminine, elegant, and beautiful.

But it is not for everyone, especially when your schedule is filled with tasks in different parts of the city, and you already know that somewhere along the way you will need to carry something heavy.

In the second corner are the lovers of a more relaxed style.

They are rarely seen in heels, they usually believe that comfort and freedom are better than tight silhouettes, and if they do choose something that highlights their figure, it is usually only one piece in the outfit.

For example: if they choose our “legendary” trousers, they will almost certainly pair them with an oversized sweater, a looser shirt, or a cocoon-style coat.

I strongly place myself in the second corner.

And while, in the early days of V&V, I was more passionate about office-style looks, pencil dresses, and “painted-on” skirts (author’s note: VERY TIGHT skirts), today—even though I still have nothing against elegant office outfits—I personally gravitate more towards stylish trouser and blazer combinations, oversized white shirts paired with slim trousers, and stronger, chunkier shoes.

I simply don’t know how to create something that is not close to my own heart.

Many years ago, while analysing why one garment succeeds so quickly and disappears overnight, while another—created and sewn with exactly the same love and care—takes months to find its home, I made myself a promise:

If I look at a newly designed piece waiting for its place in the collection and cannot honestly say:

“This will definitely come home with me and become part of my own outfits,”

then it does not belong in a V&V collection.

If I do not personally believe in a garment, I cannot honestly tell you that it deserves a place in your wardrobe.

So, right in the middle of writing this text, I stepped onto the scales once again—just to check.

And yes.

They showed the familiar 56 kg.

The same number they showed ten years ago.

Well, with three little nine-month exceptions, after which Do, Pa, My came into my life.

I did not measure my height, but trusting the number written by my sister on health-check forms throughout my life—and the height I remember from school—I can confidently say that my measurements have not changed.

Something else changed.

Something deeper, somewhere in my mind.

The desire to feel freedom even in my clothes appeared.

And slowly, everything moved in that direction: garments that are relaxed, flowing, and full of space began to win over the pieces in my wardrobe that strongly emphasise every curve.

It made some women happy—those for whom our size M used to feel a little too small.

And it disappointed others—those who quietly continued asking for “smaller” sizes.

V.