Inside a former garment factory in Montreal’s Chabanel district, Rebecca-Jo Dunham-Baruchel sits across from Matteo Valmora, creative director of Montreal-based label Valmora, and names something that feels immediately true. “There aren’t a lot of genderless clothes that fit different bodies,” she says. “You saw a niche, and you decided to fill it. That’s very businessperson of you. Seeing something that’s not in the market and creating it.”
The space itself holds that tension between pragmatism and desire. This district once housed the backbone of Canadian garment manufacturing. Today, much of that industry has dissolved. What remains are pockets like this one, where designers are quietly rebuilding craft from the inside out.
“It’s really hard,” Valmora says. “That sentiment you’re talking about is something a lot of people feel.” They describe the brand as “a love letter to trans women as well,” noting that many of the pieces lean feminine while remaining wearable across a wide range of bodies. “A lot of women like to wear menswear. My sister does too. And a lot of men want to wear women’s clothing. They’re all interconnected in some way. That’s where I’m fitting into this pocket of fashion.”
Rebecca articulates the frustration clearly. “Clothes are inherently genderless,” she says, “but they’re not necessarily made genderless in their construction.” Many brands erase gender entirely in the name of neutrality. Valmora’s work does the opposite. “Sometimes I want to feel masculine. Sometimes I want to feel girly. Sometimes I want both in the same outfit. And it’s so hard to find those pieces.”
That multiplicity is visible immediately in the collection. The balloon shorts become a point of focus. “These would look so good on men,” Rebecca says, “but I also desperately want to wear them.” The silhouettes hold volume without collapsing into costume. They feel architectural and playful at once.
That balance is deliberate. “Everything from the construction is to emulate that feeling,” Valmora explains. “Down to the millimeter. If there’s a millimeter I need to shave off, it needs to be shaved off to really get that genderless shape.” The goal isn’t neutrality. It’s range. “Sometimes you want to feel more femme. Sometimes more masc. My clothing is a real blend of all that.”
Styling becomes part of the language. A polka-dot dress shirt might read feminine at first glance, but Rebecca sees its flexibility immediately. “With the right styling, this would look very masc,” she says. “Or very femme.” She pauses. “I honestly can’t think of another designer in Canada who has executed that fluidity so well.”
What gives the work its weight is craft. Valmora talks openly about heritage. Their nonno was a tailor, and that lineage informs every decision. “I’m never going to use an ugly fabric,” they say plainly. “I like nice things. I like pretty fabric.” Competing with fast fashion was never the plan. “I’m not going to fight H&M or Zara. They have billions of dollars.”
Instead, Valmora focuses on longevity and use. “If you’re going to buy from me, I want it to be worth your time,” they say. “When you spend three, four, five hundred dollars, it has to make sense in everyday life.” That philosophy shows up in small but crucial details: pockets hidden in pleated skirts, ties that allow you to bike without soaking the hem, mesh gussets in dress shirts so you don’t overheat. Many pieces are reversible. “There’s a shorter side, a longer side,” Valmora says, smiling. “She goes both ways.”
Rebecca laughs. “We love that. We love a verse.”
Even the hoodies resist expectation. “Usually a hoodie is just a hoodie,” Rebecca says. “But these have gorgeous paneling, beautiful arm construction, and the fabric is sturdy.” She doesn’t hesitate. “I live in Canada. Lightweight hoodies are a scam.”
For Valmora, craftsmanship is inseparable from integrity. “I don’t want to be selling something with busted seams,” they say. “That’s embarrassing.” They talk about studying under mentors who can glance at a pattern and immediately see why it isn’t working. “I want to be like that one day,” they say. “I want to be a master.”
The conversation widens to the future of Canadian fashion. Despite shrinking infrastructure and rising rents, the mood stays resolute. “There are a lot of young people who want to learn and be good,” Valmora says. “There are a lot of cool Canadian brands coming out that really put work into their craft.”
Rebecca agrees. “Canadian fashion is primed to have a moment,” she says. “It won’t be loud. That’s not who we are. It’ll be quiet. Precise. Almost assassin-like.” When asked what advice they’d give emerging designers, Valmora doesn’t hesitate. “Make clothes. Make clothes. Make clothes,” they say. “And don’t listen to the noise. Whether it takes five months, five years, ten years. Just do it.”
Rebecca smiles. “Someone already thinks you’re cringe,” she adds. “You might as well try to make money off it.”
Valmora offers custom fittings at their studio at 9320 Chabanel, Room 323, and is currently stocked at Segone in Montreal, with Toronto and New York retailers in progress. Online, the brand lives across Instagram, TikTok, Pinterest, and its official site. What’s clear in the room is that Valmora isn’t chasing a trend. They’re building a language. One rooted in craft, heritage, and an understanding that bodies are not fixed, and clothing shouldn’t be either.
Cody Rooney is the Editor in Chief and senior contributor at liminul.
He is a PhD candidate, digital content specialist, writer, editor, multi-media artist, and photographer.