I’m Mirela Lousada. I was born in São Paulo, where everything, the heat, the noise, the football chants, all move like a pulse. I grew up between the rhythm of my mother’s samba and the shimmer of city lights. My childhood was all motion and music. Barefoot dancing in the kitchen, cousins crowding the balcony, the smell of street popcorn and summer rain. In Brazil, you learn early that joy isn’t just a feeling, it’s a language. My parents taught me to stand tall, to laugh loudly, to give more love than I think I can hold. That mix of warmth and willpower still lives in everything I do.

Now I live in Milan, where fashion feels like a second religion and even the espresso has attitude. I work in event management for fashion shows, the chaos behind the glamour, and I adore it. My days are full of fittings, fabrics, and phone calls that end with someone saying “Mirela, you saved us.” I still carry São Paulo in my hips when I walk, but here I’ve found a new rhythm. Sleek tailoring, long afternoons in Piazza del Duomo, nights that end in rooftop laughter. My wardrobe is my passport — Brazilian curves in Italian cuts. Milan has taught me elegance, but Brazil taught me joy. I need both to feel alive.

I write because I feel everything all at once. My series, Milan Couture, is my way of turning chaos into connection. The late nights, the love affairs, the glow that lingers after a show. It’s not about perfection. It’s about presence. I write to remember the feeling of a spotlight warming my skin, or the hush before music starts. My stories are for anyone who’s ever been called “too much” and decided to dance anyway. For me, the page is where movement becomes memory. Where I can celebrate the mess, the magic, and the moment before it’s gone.