What's your earliest memory of wanting to make jewelry or become a jewelry designer?
Growing up as a child of immigrant parents, it never once crossed my mind to connect my love of jewelry and adornment with the idea of becoming a jewelry designer. That simply wasn't in my universe as a possibility. It was purely about how jewelry made me feel—the love of alchemy, and the potential I kept seeing in the classically-lined pieces my beautiful mother and grandmother wore. I can remember as early as five years old slipping into my mother's closet to choose my own pieces, asking her permission to alter what I had, and the passion that came over me whenever I could picture the ideal creation.
What personal qualities are you most proud of?
My unwavering commitment to protecting and prioritizing time with my sons. My passion for speaking up and helping others. An insatiable curiosity. The intention to genuinely consider and respect perspectives different from my own. Protecting my peace. And my grit.
Describe a professional setback or failure that may have shaped a later success.
Before founding Atelier Linde Lim, I collaborated on opening a contemporary goldsmithing school in New York City and worked to implement a pro bono metalsmithing program for inner-city youth. From the very beginning, my partners and I held fundamentally differing pedagogical views. Perspectives that were honestly at odds and never fully reconcilable. In hindsight, had those conflicts not existed, I may never have returned to Chicago to start Atelier Linde Lim. Sometimes the door that closes is the one that needed to.
Which fashion designers—current or historical—do you most admire, and why?
I deeply admire the feminine sensibility of Cambodian designer Romyda Keth. Her use of vibrant color, sensual texture, and natural fabrics—combined with patterns that honor and complement a woman's natural curves—feels both deeply considered and genuinely of the moment.
Looking back at the premiere of Atelier Linde Lim, at what point did you realize your position as a private label designer was a real success?
Years after my collection debuted, I was strolling past the Barneys New York flagship on Madison Avenue with my two young sons when I stopped cold in front of the storefront windows. There, on full display, were several jewelry lines I private label design for. My toddler twins immediately recognized many of the pieces; they had watched them evolve from sketches in my drawing books. One of them looked up and announced, completely earnest: "Mama! I think your jewelry is almost famous!" It was the most surreal moment. I think about it often.
Can you explain how you manage the dual roles of designer and business owner?
It's a genuinely challenging balance. There are days I feel like an amateur juggler, and days I'd frankly rather be one role than the other. But I see no alternative: the two are completely interdependent. What I've found is that objectivity helps, patience helps more, and with enough practice, the rhythm improves. You simply keep going.
Between high fashion and everyday wear, how do you account for both in your designs?
It requires a balance that has to be found anew with each piece. I look at every design sketch and ask—along with my team—What is the purpose of this? What are we trying to convey? Is it meant for everyone, or only for a few? From there it becomes a kind of game: adding, subtracting, refining, until the answer reveals itself.
What is the difference between an artist and a designer? How are they similar?
An artist works in abstract ideas and leaves them open to interpretation. A designer takes those abstract ideas and works them into something tangible and functional. Where they meet—where I think they have always met—is in the act of dreaming. That part belongs to both.
Lastly, would you share some of your personal interests?


