I usually tell people I created The Lulo Project because I wanted "relaxed elegance."
And that is true.
Very founder. Very polished. Very please invite me to speak on a panel.
But the real story is less perfect.
The truth is: I was gaining weight.
My hormones had entered the chat — uninvited, obviously — and they had a very subtle way of reminding me: Darling, you are getting older.
Rude.
Suddenly, the clothes I used to wear didn't feel like mine anymore. Things were tighter. Shorter. Less forgiving. Less interested in my comfort.
And I kept thinking: why am I dressing like I'm in a fight with my own body?
I still wanted to feel beautiful. I still wanted color, print, shape, presence. I still wanted to walk into a room and feel like myself. But I no longer wanted to suffer for it.
Then came the rude surprise.
Not dramatic. Not tragic. Just rude. The kind of rude where suddenly the dress doesn't zip as smoothly, the mirror has opinions, and the young guy at the restaurant looks right through you like you're part of the furniture.
Excuse me?
I still had style. I still had stories. I still had legs, taste, and things to say.
But fashion had decided that women like me were supposed to quietly move to the background and wear beige.
I'm sorry — beige is lovely. But not as a life sentence.
So I started asking myself: where are the clothes for the rest of us?
The women whose bodies change. The women whose lives change. The women who want ease, but not invisibility. The women who want beauty, but not punishment.
And that's when the lightbulb turned on.
What if I created a brand for women in transition? Not to hide them. Not to fix them. Not to make them apologize for aging, softening, gaining weight, losing weight, starting over, or simply becoming someone new — but to make them visible.
That is The Lulo Project.
An ode to getting older and refusing to disappear. An ode to bodies that change and women who keep showing up. An ode to elegance without punishment.
Because there comes a point when you don't want clothes that demand you become smaller. You want clothes that make room for the woman you are now.
Preferably with a good print.
Because let's be honest — we still like to be looked at.
Wink.
— Martica