Sixteen years ago, Nicole Gavrilles started a fashion magazine on the cusp of a world moving online.
Instagram had yet to reshape the industry, fast fashion was accelerating without scrutiny, and conversations around regenerative design belonged largely to the margins. Nicole, meanwhile, was studying graphic design and photography, holding a deep appreciation for objects made with time, skill, and intention—a value born from a childhood spent among the antiques of her father’s auction house.
In 2010, those interests converged in ONE Magazine.
Today, alongside her work as a product designer at Squarespace, Nicole continues to shape ONE around a slower, more considered vision of fashion—one that values natural materials, preserves craft, and honors the hands of the maker as much as the mind of the designer.
We sat down with Nicole to discuss sixteen years of ONE, what fashion has gained and lost in the digital age, the return to natural fibers, and her hopes for what’s next.
Take us back to 2010. What made you start ONE?
I was in college studying graphic design and minoring in photography, and I’d always been a fan of fashion editorial. My dad is an auctioneer, so I grew up around antiques and old, old forgotten pieces of artI would help him at auctions, and I developed a deep respect for craftsmanship and beautiful pieces crafted slowly.
I wanted to do something that incorporated everything I loved: fashion photography, fashion editorial and graphic design. At the time, I felt there were a lot of beautiful images in fashion magazines, but the typography and layouts didn’t always match them. ONE started as something for my portfolio, really, and a way for me to practice as a designer.
The original idea was also to support and highlight smaller designers, creatives and photographers. I had different sections where I would spotlight one photographer or one designer, and that’s where the name ONE came from.
If the Nicole of 2010 could see fashion now, what do you think would surprise her most?
I think things felt more innocent then. Social media wasn’t really part of our lives, and we weren’t on our phones all the time. There was still this sense of authenticity and individualism. It felt a little freer and maybe there was less anxiety.
At the same time, we were naive about our shopping habits. Fast fashion was becoming such a huge part of our lives, but we didn’t really understand what it would become because people weren’t talking about it.
What’s positive about today is how much more information we have. We can learn about what’s happening with the climate, find educators and find communities of people who care about the same things. There’s comfort in knowing other people are feeling that climate anxiety too, and being able to come together around it.
What does regenerative fashion mean to you?
The perfect way I can explain a regenerative fashion brand is one where the designers and the artisans are equal.
It isn’t just about the end product. It’s about showing the process, the care, the love and the intention behind how something is made, and who it is made by — those hands.
I’m so inspired by the brands doing this work and keeping artisanal craft alive. It isn’t easy. They’re doing it for the love and respect of tradition, because if those traditions aren’t kept alive, what happens to them?
Growing up around antiques, I would see these incredible handcrafted metal pieces and candelabras, things that people simply don’t make in the same way anymore. These crafts can disappear.
That’s why I feel like I need to keep championing the brands doing this work. More people need to know about it. They’re not only creating beautiful products; there can be this cycle of giving back to nature in return.
The word “sustainability” is everywhere now. Is that helpful, or has it become too diluted?
I try and stay away from the term myself because of how overused it has become, for good and for bad. But the reason for keeping it is that it’s now familiar to the general public. There was a time when people didn’t really know what sustainability meant. Now they understand the general idea, and that’s a good thing.
The problem comes when brands use those terms to communicate something that isn’t actually true.
People care. They want to know what their clothes are made of. But there needs to be more accountability around the language companies can use.
With ONE, I put a lot of time into vetting brands before they’re included in our sustainability requirements or styling guidelines. We have requirements around what can be featured, and I’m strict about them.
After everything you’ve witnessed over the past sixteen years, what gives you hope?
Our return to a love of natural fibers.
And witnessing curiosity. I’m hearing people around me talk about it without me prompting it. Friends will ask me for recommendations, but I never want to judge anyone or tell people how they should live. What’s encouraging is seeing people arrive at these questions themselves.
People care about the Earth. People don’t like seeing trash in the streets, and they don’t like brands lying to them about what something is made from. I have hope that people will become more vocal about what they want — and what they don’t — and that change can come from that.
That idea of slowing down seems to extend beyond fashion for you. What brings you back to yourself?
I try to live my personal life slowly and intentionally. I’ve worked too much before. I’ve burned myself out, and I knew I couldn’t continue living that way.
Now I try to remind myself of the small wonders throughout the day. It could be taking a slow walk in the morning, putting on a record, lighting incense or just being outside and observing. Listening to birds singing or the trees — there’s a calming song to it.
Volunteering and supporting my local community fills my cup too. It lets me shut off the tech brain and the magazine brain and just be present.
I take way fewer photos now because when I’m with people, I don’t want to touch my phone. I want to be completely there. I think it has made me a better person and a better friend.
There’s something healing about separating yourself from technology and returning to the sensory world.
And if someone picked up a copy of ONE another sixteen years from now, what would you hope they find inside?
More celebration. More celebration of brands, of others, and more community coming together.
I think there’s a pathway back to in-person community building and gathering. I hope there’s a sense of celebration and community that brings more people together in person — and I hope the magazine can be part of that space.
A portion of each ONE issue sold supports three climate-focused organizations. Check it out HERE.