Veronica Kua’s fascination with knitwear began with a simple question: what was so special about fabric that could stretch? While studying Fashion Design at Raffles College Kuala Lumpur, students were encouraged to work with woven textiles because they were easier to control. Knit fabrics, with their stretch and unpredictability, were another kettle of fish entirely. Rather than avoiding them, Kua became fascinated. What, she wondered, was so special about these fabrics that everyone seemed wary of?
The question led her into an area of fashion she had not known existed. Beyond crochet and hand knitting lay an entire discipline built around specialist machinery, technical experimentation, and textile innovation. The deeper she ventured into it, the more convinced she became that she had found her niche. Pursuing it eventually took her to Nottingham Trent University in the United Kingdom, where she completed both a Bachelor’s degree and a Master’s degree specialising in knitwear.
Today, Kua is building Ghosts & Knots, the knitwear label she developed during her time abroad. Yet when she speaks about the future, she often finds herself talking about something beyond her own brand. Alongside continuing Ghosts & Knots as a slow fashion practice, she hopes to eventually establish a knitwear studio in Malaysia — a space where young designers can explore a discipline she once struggled to access herself.
The journey between those two points has been less straightforward than it might seem. Kua moved to the UK expecting to finally immerse herself in knitwear, only to discover that the pathway she had spent years looking forward to was not available in the way she had imagined. By the end of her Bachelor’s degree, she felt frustrated and unsatisfied. Rather than abandoning the idea, she enrolled in a Master’s programme dedicated to knitwear, determined to continue pursuing the craft she had spent years chasing.
The same persistence appears in the way Kua talks about making. Yarn testing, machine calculations, failed experiments and technical problem-solving are all described with the same enthusiasm many designers reserve for finished collections. At one point during our conversation, she tells me she loves “the struggle, the ugly bit” of knitwear. For Kua, the appeal of the craft lies not only in the finished garment, but in the act of figuring things out.
The same sensibility runs through Ghosts & Knots. Long before she discovered knitwear, Kua spent much of her childhood drawing characters and inventing stories of her own. Her designs often move between memory and imagination, drawing on personal experiences without becoming bound to them. Childhood, fantasy and nostalgia frequently surface, though usually with a playful, slightly quirky perspective.
Living abroad has changed her relationship with home, too. As a teenager, Kua romanticised the idea of life overseas and imagined London as the place where everything she wanted would eventually happen. The reality proved far more humbling. Surrounded by thousands of talented young creatives, she experienced periods of intense self-doubt and found herself questioning whether she belonged at all. Distance also made her appreciate aspects of Malaysia she had once overlooked, particularly the proximity of family and the ease of everyday life.
Years ago, pursuing knitwear meant leaving Malaysia. Today, Kua is beginning to imagine what it might look like to build part of that world here. Below, we speak to Veronica Kua about Ghosts & Knots, childhood, knitwear, studying abroad and the future she hopes to help shape.
YOU LEFT MALAYSIA BECAUSE OF KNITWEAR. LOOKING BACK, DO YOU THINK YOU ALWAYS WOULD HAVE ENDED UP IN FASHION?
I think so. Growing up, I was always interested in art and design. I loved drawing as a child and spent a lot of time obsessing over the clothes my characters wore. My family was very supportive, so from a young age I always imagined myself doing something creative.
Fashion became the natural path. Through fashion, I became interested in fabrics and textiles, and eventually that curiosity led me towards knitwear.
WHAT WAS IT ABOUT KNITWEAR SPECIFICALLY THAT CAPTIVATED YOU AS A CREATIVE?
I think it was the possibilities. In college, we mostly worked with woven fabrics because they were easier to handle. Knit fabrics felt more complicated, and that immediately made me curious.
The more I learnt, the more fascinated I became. I realised there was an entire world beyond crochet and hand knitting. There were university courses, careers, and people dedicating their lives to knitwear. At the time, it felt incredibly niche, especially in Malaysia, which made me want to learn even more.
YOUR PATH WAS NOT ENTIRELY STRAIGHTFORWARD. YOU MOVED ABROAD TO STUDY KNITWEAR, BUT STILL FELT YOU HAD NOT LEARNT ENOUGH BY THE END OF YOUR BACHELOR’S DEGREE.
Yes, and that was honestly very frustrating. I had spent years looking forward to specialising in knitwear, so when things didn’t work out the way I expected, I felt really disappointed. By the end of my degree, I wasn’t satisfied at all. That’s a big part of why I decided to pursue a Master’s. I wasn’t ready to stop learning yet.
GHOSTS & KNOTS FEELS ROOTED IN CHILDHOOD WITHOUT BECOMING PURELY NOSTALGIC. IS THERE A DIFFERENCE FOR YOU?
Definitely. I sometimes mourn the person I was and the life I had growing up, but I don’t, but I don’t necessarily want to go back. It’s more that childhood feels like a safe space. Life has become more complicated since then, even though I’m very grateful for where I am now.
A lot of my work comes from revisiting those feelings. Not recreating them exactly, but trying to understand them through design.
YOUR WORK OFTEN CARRIES A SENSE OF ESCAPISM. WHERE DOES THAT COME FROM?
I’ve always escaped into stories. As a child, I spent a lot of time drawing characters and creating worlds in my head. I think that instinct never really disappeared. Even now, when I design, I’m often creating versions of places or feelings that don’t entirely exist.
Sometimes that comes from nostalgia, sometimes from imagination. Usually it’s a mixture of both.
YOU ONCE SAID THERE WAS A POINT WHERE YOU FELT EVERY YOUNG DESIGNER IN LONDON WAS BETTER THAN YOU. HOW DID YOU MOVE PAST THAT?
It took time. There are so many talented young designers here, and at one point I genuinely felt like all of them were better than I. It put me through a lot of self-doubt and I struggled not to lose myself in comparison.
Eventually, I realised I just needed to focus on my own work. Every time I sat down in front of a knitting machine, it reminded me why I wanted to do this in the first place. I’ve come to realise that if you truly pour your heart and soul into creating something, there will always be people who appreciate it.
WHEN YOU FIRST MOVED TO LONDON, YOU ROMANTICISED LIFE OVERSEAS. WHAT SURPRISED YOU MOST ABOUT THE REALITY?
Being away from family. When I was younger, I thought living abroad was the only way I could have the life I wanted. I romanticised it a lot. But living so far away from family changes your perspective. I’ve learnt to appreciate Malaysia much more now. I’ve also realised how much the local fashion scene has grown. There are so many talented Malaysian designers doing incredible things. I still love London, but I love Malaysia differently now too.
ONE OF THE STORIES THAT STAYED WITH ME WAS THE KNITTED GARMENT THAT BELONGED TO YOUR LATE MOTHER. HAS STUDYING KNITWEAR CHANGED THE WAY YOU THINK ABOUT OR APPROACH OBJECTS LIKE THAT?
Definitely. One of the few knitted garments I remember from childhood belonged to my late mother. At the time, it was simply a piece of clothing.
Years later, after studying knitwear, I started looking at it differently. Suddenly I noticed details I would never have paid attention to before. It’s strange how certain objects become more meaningful over time.
YOU’VE SPOKEN ABOUT WANTING TO EVENTUALLY ESTABLISH A KNITWEAR STUDIO IN MALAYSIA. WHY IS THAT IMPORTANT TO YOU?
When I first discovered fashion knitwear, I realised there was a whole world beyond crochet and hand knitting. There were professions, university courses and entire careers built around it. The problem was that I didn’t know where to learn more about it in Malaysia.
Now that I’ve had the opportunity to properly study knitwear and earn a degree in it, I would love to bring some of that knowledge back. Knitwear is still very niche, but it’s my niche in Malaysia. If a young fashion student becomes interested in knitwear the way I once did, I’d like there to be somewhere for them to go.
YOU’VE TALKED A LOT ABOUT SLOW FASHION AND THE IMPORTANCE OF CRAFT. WHAT KEEPS YOU COMMITTED TO THAT APPROACH?
I genuinely love making things. Not just designing them, but actually making them. Knitwear can be frustrating. There’s so much calculation, testing and experimentation involved, and sometimes things don’t work the way you want them to. But I love that part. I love the struggle. I love the ugly bit.
When I’m knitting, I’m so focused that everything else disappears. It’s almost therapeutic. That’s why I’ve never really dreamt of building a huge fashion company. I still want my own label, but I want it to stay personal. I’d rather create garments that mean something than mass-produce them. And ideally, I’d love to build a studio alongside that. A place where people can learn, experiment and discover knitwear for themselves.
Photography WenX | LWEE
Styling Liew Hui Ying
Interview Aqil Karlzafri
Grooming Gan ChuFan
Hair Eranthe Loo
Photography Assistant Lai Wen Yu
Production Assistant Bernice Phoon, M.Lin
Models Gbril | The Models Lab KL; Song Ning
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