For my Granville Carnival line, I’d riff on my usual overthinking habit, turning anxieties into goofy cartoon sea monsters marching in a parade, so every time I wear it I remember not to take myself, or the news cycle, too damn seriously.

I’d design a Granville Carnival piece that feels like my ideal long weekend: messy, loud, slightly political, with a map of Normandy sketched like a treasure hunt for the best bars, bakeries, and street bands, so the shirt doubles as a chaotic travel guide.

I want a Granville Carnival design built around fake newspaper headlines, each one roasting imaginary scandals on a cartoon fishing boat, so the tee feels like wearing tomorrow’s satire section before it even hits the press.

I’d create a Granville Carnival pattern of masks, anchors, and confetti exploding out of an old radio, as if the town’s gossip and music literally burst into color across the fabric.