I Didn’t Move Here to Start a Brand. But Berlin Had Other Plans.
Atelier ManganelThere’s a corner in Mauerpark where the light hits just right in late afternoon—usually when someone’s trying to play a guitar over three competing Bluetooth speakers. I was sitting there one Sunday, half-listening, half-daydreaming, when it hit me: I needed out. Not out of Berlin. Out of this life I’d accidentally built—nine to five, screen to screen, doing a job I never meant to keep for six years.
I came here for that job. IT stuff. Safe. Predictable. In English. I told myself it was just for now. But time moves strangely in Berlin. It stretches, loops. Suddenly “for now” had a salary, a contract, a routine. And I was stuck.
But Berlin doesn’t care about your plans. It pokes at you with its weird energy, its chaotic charm, its people wearing whatever they want, being whoever they are.
Slowly, this idea started forming. A visual one. A voice. A brand that wasn’t about trends, but about having something to say. A creative way out.
Starting a business in a country where you don’t speak the language is like trying to cook blindfolded. The legal stuff alone almost made me quit. The worst part? Not knowing how—or who—to ask for help. But I kept going. Mostly out of stubbornness. Partly because once you taste creative freedom, you can’t go back.
Now, I wake up, do my full-time job (still boring), and squeeze in hours before and after to build something that actually feels like mine. A digital Späti for dry humor and honest design. I’ve wanted to quit pretty much every day since I started. But I don’t. Because this brand? It’s not just a side project. It’s a rebellion. A reminder that you can shift lanes, even if you're still stuck in traffic.
Atelier Manganel is my way of saying something without shouting. A small, printed piece of freedom—for me, and hopefully for anyone else who wears it.
