Rosalía is a woman of taste and brevity. When asked to cite a favorite young designer in her September 2024 Highsnobiety Magazine cover story, the Spanish singer succinctly name-dropped Zoe Gustavia Anna Whalen, saying: " I really like her fabrics and colors."

An "avant-futurist" musical prodigy turned world-conquering A-lister, Rosalía's personal style is as restless as her songcraft approach. The far-reaching cues affected by high-concept breakthrough album El Mal Querer and uncategorizable Grammy-nominee Motomami are reflected in Rosalía's fluid approach to dress, which flits from archival Jean Paul Gaultier to Sandy Liang's downtown coquette as mood dictates.

Simply, Rosalía loves clothes too much to stick with any one look, style, or price point. She might have access to all the Louis Vuitton in the world but Rosalía also savors the hunt for fresh talent.

So perhaps it was inevitable that she'd uncover Zoe Gustavia Anna Whalen.

"It’s so wonderful that Rosalía's a fan of my work — she’s a powerful icon," Whalen tells Highsnobiety. "To have my work recognized and worn by influential cultural figures gives me so much hope for the future."

New York-based Whalen graduated from Parsens with an MFA in 2021 before jobbing at progressive fashion imprints like the Eckhaus Latta, Germany's legendary BLESS, and the recently shuttered Interior for the next two years, absorbing their disparate creative essences and, above all, a yen to cater to the self rather than fashion industry norms.

In September 2022, Whalen officially launched her eponymous line, quickly described as "fashion as art" and even more quickly adopted by artists like Eartheater and cellist Kelsey Lu.

Of course Rosalía feels a kinship with Whalen: Like her mentors (and Rosalía, for that matter), Whalen is an auteur.

While industry conventions demand ever-expanding offerings of commercial clothing, for instance, Whalen instead pours herself into concise seasonal collections comprising elegant, handmade one-off garments, "constructed by hand to last a lifetime," as she puts it.

If the majority of the fashion industry resembles Jeff Koons' assembly-line art, independent designers like Whalen are the spiritual successors of Brancusi: patient, purposeful, and obsessed with expressing the human touch.

"My practice operates more as an art studio than a traditional fashion house, which I think resonates with other makers and artists within different crafts," Whalen explains.

Whalen's clothes are transcendent of time and place, though spectors of the past haunt pieces like hand-sewn pleated petticoats and frilly shirts that borrow the shape of Victorian children's pajamas. The vibe is as personal as it is ceremonial, plainly shaped by the artist's touch but as grand as any liturgical dress.

"Many of my materials used are found, antique or repurposed textiles — they hold energy and history in them, waiting to be channeled," she continues. "This is part of how I use fashion to speak to the emotional elements within clothing. There’s a certain witchy, feminine sensibility and an esoteric sensitivity — but it’s not just that either."

That emotionality manifests Whalen's theatrical runway shows, which similarly reject staid luxury notions.

Models at Whalen's on-calendar presentations, held at off-piste locales like Manhattan's Elizabeth Street Garden, look like royal elves caught slinking from their bedchambers clad in fantastical sleepwear. But they're not walking on an elevated catwalk or the stage of a theater; they march right between observers. Guests share the scene in magical moments where humanity is palpable.

"When I’m staging my own shows there’s always an element of performance," Whalen says. "A show evokes emotional energy; the shows share what’s going on within my own emotional landscape with the audience, and I try to evoke that emotion from the audience with the show."

You can thus see why Whalen's oeuvre is often tailored to musicians' on-stage personas (and perhaps one day to Rosalía's taste). Game recognize game.

"It's like a creative conversation between artists channeled through clothing," Whalen continues. "You can see someone’s face light up differently when they have on the right garment. Every time, I see it and am brought to tears. When my work is being worn in the real world, onstage, being embodied by someone else, it becomes tangible and real — it takes on its own energy and life force. It becomes theirs: It’s a gift."