As I look back on 2024, it’s hard to find space to focus on achievements, let alone moments of joy or celebration. How could it be otherwise when, for much of the year, a buzzing drone has hovered above Beirut—a haunting, incessant hum serving as a constant reminder of the ongoing and imminent destruction unleashed by the Israeli army? A death machine that has been active since the end of 2023 and even more devastating throughout 2024.

At many points this year, it felt like the world was unraveling, and perhaps for some of us, that feeling has lingered for far longer. But this year has made it abundantly clear to me, to my peers, and to every citizen of Lebanon that the world is deaf and blind to our suffering. And even when we do manage to catch its fleeting attention, the systems designed to protect us seem obsolete—rendered powerless by the relentless machinery of capitalism, consumerism, and global apathy.

Yet, in the face of so much adversity, I still believe. I stubbornly refuse to give up or give in. And this year, more than ever, I’ve come to realize how blessed I am to be surrounded by like-minded, optimistic fighters—people who still choose to dream, to create, and to build despite it all.

Our 2023 collections celebrated five years of Emergency Room. Their title, “Home Sweet Home,” captured a desire—an untamed dream—to anchor our brand, our work, and our community in Lebanon, our homeland. The year 2024, however, tested that dream. It was a year of unprecedented challenges, moments that pushed us to our limits, but, ultimately, strengthened our resolve and brought our community closer together.

We began the year with a deeply personal show in Dubai, asking the question: “What am I to do with all that is left?” From there, we moved into the next chapter of our story—a chapter where “the room becomes a home.” It was a symbolic move, a return to the neighborhood of Mar Mikhael, where our shop has stood since 2019. This time, however, we stepped into something even more meaningful: a beautiful, traditional Lebanese house, one that has become a second home for our team and a place where we can continue writing our story.

It wasn’t long before we poured ourselves into creating “The Beirut Show 2.0”—our second homegrown fashion show, brought to life in collaboration with three brilliant creatives and dozens of friends. The result? A night to remember at the iconic Sursock Palace. It was perhaps the last great moment we shared as a team before the harsh realities of our circumstances caught up with us, abruptly halting our momentum.

Although we managed to develop an entire new collection, the escalating terror inflicted by the Israeli army on our people made it impossible for us to show it. It didn’t feel right—nothing did.

On a personal level, I was fortunate enough to take a long-awaited trip to Japan. Immersing myself in a completely different culture and community felt surreal—like stepping into another world entirely. I was welcomed with warmth and kindness, and I couldn’t help but compare it to the madness we endure back home. As a people, we are extraordinary for continuing to put up with so much. Still, while my time in Japan felt like a much-needed break, it also clarified one undeniable truth: I am mad.

Mad about my country.
Mad about my people.
Mad about my family.

And there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be than exactly where I am.

Recklessly yours,
Eric Mathieu Ritter

Picture from our show in Beirut by Myriam Boulos