Eric Mathieu Ritter watched secondhand clothes from Europe get thrown into a river in Tripoli and decided that was enough.
Emergency Room Beirut was his answer: a fashion label built entirely on upcycling, local tailors, fair pay, and radical transparency. No new material. No compromise. Just an idea heโd been letting simmer for years until it was ready.
Some things are worth the wait. Read more in The Book. Link in bio.
#EricMathieuRitter #TheBookByAhwa #EmergencyRoomBeirut #SustainableFashion #lebanesedesigner
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(Quietly) celebrated 8 years of @emergencyroombeirut & @joseph.kiwan captured it on film.
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This one was for the handful of people who tolerate my mood swings and held my hand through the challenges, but I canโt wait to celebrate this milestone in a more festive way.
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โค๏ธ๐ฅฐ
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On April 2026, letting light in through the cracks, popping muscles and (re)learning how to cope with reality.
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NB: Some images have been generated by ChatGPT.
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My own holy trinity: sweat, tears and Beirut. Two sides of the same coin and a codependent attachment to an intoxicating place.
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Collage made on iPhone.
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Incredible Finds: Postal Chess Recorder, Souk el Ahad (January 2026)
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Postal chess recorder album found at Souk El Ahad, Beirut, on Sunday 25 January 2026. Used to play chess long-distance through letters and postcards, move by move, sometimes over weeks or months.
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I was drawn to it as an early ancestor of todayโs online games and screen-based interactions. A reminder that the desire to overcome distance isnโt new, only the tools have changed.
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This object echoes ideas explored in the soundtrack of @emergencyroombeirut โs last show: how technologies meant to connect us often end up reshaping distance, silence, and absence in unexpected ways.
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#ArchivingLife
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In 2016, Instagram posts were still square,
And my whole world was shifting.
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2016 started with heartbreak,
It is also the year I was reborn.
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In 2016, my childhood friends still lived in Beirut,
I was partying religiously, every weekend, in a turban.
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In 2016, I was going to therapy every week,
Uncovering the bits and bouts of myself I could no longer avoid.
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In 2016, I got my first tattoo, charged with meaning,
I quit my corporate job and dabbled in drawing and embroidery.
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In 2016, I started teaching at ALBA,
And was introduced to new experiences,
And people who would become lifelong friends.
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In 2016, I was doodling on faces,
And developing an obsession with face-covering masks.
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Most importantly,
In 2016, I stepped out of my comfort zone,
Discovered and fell in love with Tripoli,
And placed the first stones on which I would build my entire adult world.
