By: Alva Ree
How would you define yourself beyond a simple professional title?
I define myself first and foremost as an artist. My background spans fashion photography, design, garment creation, styling, makeup, and hair. I studied fashion styling at university in San Francisco, trained in makeup and hair in New York, and earned degrees in fashion photography and design. These experiences gave me a global understanding of fashion as a complete ecosystem.
I am deeply drawn to large-scale projects, strong narratives, and bold aesthetics. Minimalism has never resonated with me; my work is maximalist, expressive, and unapologetically visible. For me, creation is political. It carries meaning, intention, and a need to be seen and defended. My work is not about decoration; it is about expression, presence, and impact.
Where does your creativity come from, and how has your personal history shaped it?
My creativity comes directly from my past. I grew up in foster care in France after being abandoned by my biological mother. I lived with multiple foster families, in institutions, and in specialized centers. I experienced physical, sexual, and verbal violence, and I was never believed.
For a long time, my voice did not exist. I learned early that speaking was useless—no one listened. Creativity became my language of survival. Locked in my room for hours, I developed an inner world where I could exist freely. Art became a way to be seen when words failed. What began as a coping mechanism slowly transformed into a vital force: a need to exist loudly, visibly, undeniably.
When did you realize that creation would always be part of your life?
I understood that creation was essential when I realized how difficult survival would be for me. I knew I would need to invent my own path, my own escape. Creating was not a choice; it was a solution. It became the way I stayed alive.
I realized that creation would always be part of my life when I understood that it was the only way for me to fight what I cannot accept: discrimination, intolerance, and injustice. These realities deeply affect me, frighten me, move me, and hurt me on a very personal level. As much as I can, creating became a form of resistance, almost a mission, a way to transform pain into visibility.
You are a makeup artist today, but not as a final destination. What does makeup represent to you?
Makeup is a powerful tool. It allows access, connection, and creation. As an immigrant, it gave me a way to enter creative spaces, build a network, and initiate projects. But my passion extends far beyond makeup.
I am driven by global creation: image-making, fashion campaigns, video, performance, storytelling. I am interested in direction, vision, and cohesion. Becoming a creative director is my true ambition. To me, a strong creative director must understand every medium, touching everything to shape something greater.
Photo Courtesy: Joryss Basaïd
How has being an immigrant influenced the way you build your career?
I left France because being openly queer there was dangerous. I am a man who wears heels and skirts and takes up space. New York felt like a necessity, not a dream.
Immigration, however, comes with constant obstacles. Doors are heavier, opportunities harder to access. I work twice as hard for the same recognition. I am aware of my privilege as a French passport holder but also as a white person, and I remain deeply conscious of those who face even harsher realities. This awareness fuels my discipline and my gratitude.
Your work extends into performance, cabaret, and dance. Why is performance so important to you?
Performance is freedom. On stage, I can exist without compromise. I dance, I wear what I want, I create costumes, and I embody my truth. Cabaret allows me to celebrate queerness—to show that a man in heels or a skirt can be powerful, talented, and magnetic.
I also bring my French cultural heritage into my performances in New York. On stage, I express tolerance, resilience, ambition, and the desire to exist fully.
What is the thread that connects your entire journey?
Resilience. Perseverance. Freedom. Never shrinking to please others.
I was adopted as a young adult after a long, painful journey through institutions and instability. A teacher once believed in me and introduced me to a man in Paris who would later become my father. He saw me, truly. He saved my life.
Today, I carry both gratitude and responsibility. I want my story to show that even at the lowest point, it is never the end. I hope one day to help young people who feel lost, abandoned, or invisible, and remind them that extraordinary futures can grow from chaos.
