Untie|The Story Behind the Brand Name (3) Spinning Hope, Tying Pain Into a Knot

Welcome to Untie, a place that isn’t just about aesthetics.
This is a quiet rebellion, written by someone who’s had just about enough of being at war with her own brain.

I’m Miss Lady, founder and designer of Untie.
This isn’t just a shop.
It’s where I—politely or not—try to un-knot the mess inside me, one bow at a time.
Every handmade piece I create carries a tangled story.
Some sparkle, some shake, but they all speak.

Q: Why bows? Isn’t that... kinda girly?

A: Well, sure. But also—powerful.
Bows, to me, are a form of silent language.
I started out in fashion school, where fabric spoke louder than words, and honestly, emotions were easier to tie than to explain.

Untie was born in the middle of a heavy relapse.
I decided, instead of running away (or evaporating completely), I’d try something else:
touching pain with my hands, threading anxiety through satin, and seeing if beauty could come out of the mess.
Spoiler: It doesn’t always work. But when it does, it feels like winning the lottery—with better colors.

We’re moving toward more intentional designs, but for now, everything is as raw and real as I am.

Q: Some of your products look… unfinished. Aren’t you afraid to sell them?

Yes. And no.
Let’s be honest: Untie isn’t a polished lifestyle brand.
It’s a self-healing space, built for those of us who are mentally glitchy, emotionally nonlinear, and still trying anyway.

I need to heal fast, not because I’m a perfectionist,
but because I’m broke.
This isn’t a "rebrand after burnout" story.
I didn’t grow up with therapy and trust funds. I grew up on government subsidies and psychological plot twists.

My hands tremble from time to time.
My brain forgets symmetry.
My sewing looks like it’s seen things—and it has.
But the goal isn’t perfection. It’s not giving up halfway.

Every flaw you see? That’s a little war I chose to fight anyway.

Q: Why keep saying you're mentally ill?

Because... I am?
And maybe if I say it enough, someone else might feel less alone.
I want to open up a “story inbox” someday—where others can write to me, inspire a design, or just scream into the void.

Mental illness is like digital malware. You can’t see it, but it’s there.
No one can save you.
Unless you decide to rage against the crash.

And sometimes, I just want to shout:

"I’m not okay!"
"I’m spending this money and falling apart anyway—fight me."

Healing isn’t linear.
But creating is the only knife I’ve found sharp enough to cut through the dark.

So welcome to Untie.
Every knot here holds a little release, a quiet surrender,
a laugh in the middle of the mess.