Ways of Seeing | Alexandra Mann
Portrait of Alexandra Mann, collaged by Alexandra Mann (above)
Alex does all her own photography and often collages her work, creating imagery that feels as distinctive as the clothes themselves.
Ways of Seeing
Conversations with people whose way of seeing the world inspires my own
What interests me isn't simply what people create, but how they see. The details they notice, the things they choose to hold onto, the values that shape their decisions.
Ways of Seeing | Alexandra Mann
Alexandra Mann is one of those people whose way of seeing the world inspires my own. Not because she has a beautiful house, worked for Vivienne Westwood, designs clothes and dresses beautiful people. It’s because she's the sort of person who sends you a photograph of rubber frog shoes after a conversation about "froggy toes" and somehow, in that tiny exchange, confirms everything you think you know about her.
Earlier this year, Alex and I sat down together at her home on the Kent coast, a house she and her husband Charlie have spent the last few years restoring, with equal parts determination, resourcefulness and imagination. What began as a conversation about home soon unfolded into stories of reclamation yards, sea swimming, film sets, family history, second-hand treasures, creativity, community and the particular satisfaction of finding beauty where others might not even think to look.
Miu Miu diamante patent shoes (above)
Found on eBay for £35. Proof that a good eye matters more than a big budget.
"It needs to be easy. It needs to be fun.”
Spending time with Alex, I become aware of how often our conversation returns to the same idea. Possibility.
Throughout her home, objects reveal this way of thinking. A marble off-cut becomes a tabletop. A glass jelly mould becomes a butter dish. An Art Deco light fitting becomes a sink. Solutions emerge from noticing an alternative. Even the beading around a set of cupboards began as a practical solution to disguise how wonky the doors were. The paint came from the sale shelf at B&Q; the bright lino bathroom flooring, a hand-me-down from a film set.
Nothing feels forced, or styled for effect.
She points out a huge serving dish she bought specially for a New Year's prawn cocktail, not because she needed another dish, but because she wanted somewhere elegant to hang the prawns. The delight of that detail feels entirely characteristic.
As we talk, Alex points out auction finds acquired for astonishingly small sums, pieces she'd waited years to find, and solutions born from necessity rather than budget. A shelf rescued from a pavement in De Beauvoir. Shutters searched for over the course of two years.
In a world that encourages speed, Alex’s home operates on a different timetable. Good ideas are allowed to arrive in their own time.
Ceramic whoopee cushion by Jonny Hughes (above)
One of many reminders that delight matters.
"It looked like it (the house) felt really nice."
Many people know Alex through her work in fashion and costume, but there’s very little mention of trends as we wander around her beautiful home. Instead, she talks about feeling. Confidence, comfort, ease.
Dressing actors for red carpet events, she keeps focus rather than endless options. She watches. The moment she knows an outfit is right isn't when someone says they love it, it’s when they relax. “It’s the moment they’ve got more weight in one leg and their hands in their pockets.”
"I trust my gut," she tells me. Whether she’s talking about clothing, interiors or life itself, the philosophy remains remarkably consistent.
Working at Vivienne Westwood in her twenties gave her confidence. What stays with me isn't the glamour, but that she felt protected somehow. Bolstered. Armoured. Not because she was trying to impress anyone. Because she felt good. “Chucking on a good outfit can do a lot.”
“I test drive a lot of my designs myself, but I don’t stand in front of the mirror while I do. It’s all about how it feels.”
Bright green cupboard doors with beading (above)
Practical problem-solving, creatively applied.
“Watching old films with my grandad and looking at the clothes.”
Long before fashion school, there were grandparents. Doing the best with what they had. Making and mending, hand-me-downs, growing and fermenting. Old films, and more stories.
Alex remembers watching Cleopatra with her grandfather and becoming fascinated by the costumes. Clothing, textiles, shapes. The social history behind why things look the way they do.
This way of seeing wasn’t learned, it was always there.
A shopping list on the tiles (above)
A nod to Charlie’s background in hospitality. Everyday life. No styling required.
"It's definitely not boring," she laughs. "It's very random."
Alex describes herself as a red-carpet stylist and costume designer, before immediately admitting she isn't entirely sure what she does. The list includes musicians, actors, architects, restaurants, lectures, commercials and private clients. Creativity seems less like a job description and more like a way of moving through the world.
When I ask what draws her to creative freedom, she shrugs. "I don't really know any different."
A camper van journey through France last year reignited her appetite for renovation projects. Reclamation yards and salvaged treasures. Possibility. "It's an excuse to buy more junk," she laughs.
Alex describes a future bathroom with a red bath. Warm, immersive, cocooning. "I want it to feel womb-like.”
Alex's home, featured in Expressive Interiors by Jo Berryman, photographed by Benedicte Drummond (above)
A selection of pages from Expressive Interiors (pub. Ryland Peters) where interior designer Jo Berryman and photographer Benedicte Drummond beautifully document Alex's extraordinary home on the Kent coast.
And then there are the frog shoes.
A few weeks after our long conversation, provoked by a mention of “froggy toes”, Alex sends me a photograph of what’s she’s in that day. Bright green rubber frog shoes. Easily dismissed; the sort of thing Alex wears without hesitation.
I laugh out loud when the photograph appears, but the more I think about it, the more it feels a perfect illustration of everything we've discussed.
Portrait of Alexandra Mann (above)
Alexandra Mann wearing one of her own designs.
“We call it our nest. We love being here. That will happen wherever we go next.”
The house may reflect Alex's eye, but it is very much a shared creation. Again and again, stories begin with one of them seeing something the other hadn’t. Charlie sees possibilities from unexpected angles. Alex recognises them when he does.
A jelly mould becomes a butter dish, an Art Deco light fitting becomes a washbasin. “How is that not my idea?”laughs Alex.
The rituals of home, the sense of creating a nest together. Bread made from scratch, fires lit in winter.
Kitchen shelf detail (above)
The sort of arrangement that evolves slowly, through living.
"I'm ready to make another house a home again."
At the time of our conversation, there’s talk of the house going on the market, another project waiting in the wings, a new chapter beginning.
"You have to be fucking insane to want to move into a building site. But I really do."
Since leaving Alex that day, I've found myself thinking about attention, and what happens when someone moves through the world with genuine curiosity. The reclaimed shutters found after a two-year search. The jelly mould turned butter dish. The red bath imagined for a future home. The sea swims. The auction finds. And, of course, the frog shoes.
None of these things matter on their own. Together, they reveal something larger. A way of seeing.
And that's what I find myself drawn to most in the people who inspire me: not a particular aesthetic or formula, but the confidence to trust their instincts, notice what others overlook, and create a life that feels entirely their own.
You can view Alex’s designs and contact her via her website at www.alexandramann.com and on Instagram @alexandramann
It’s a pleasure to share this conversation here ✨
Thank you for visiting the Caravan Style Journal,
Emily
x
PS…
… the ultimate Froggy Toes! (above)
💚 🐸 🐸 💚
Alex and I first met many years ago, when she recognised me from my shop, Caravan, back in our East London days. Since swapping city streets for sea air, she's also returned to my life through Sea Tower, using the garden and house for fashion shoots and bringing her own distinctive eye to the location.