It all started in Alicante.

That city is still my starting point, my home, my roots.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes and think about where I come from, the first thing that comes to me isn't places, but smells: the scent of the sea breeze, the smell of family meals, the aroma of hot streets in summer.

Alicante has that mixture of calm and melancholy that has always accompanied me.

I grew up there, in a very close-knit family, full of character, sensitivity, and love.

My name is José Ten Verdú, and before becoming a designer or having a brand, I was simply a boy who dreamed a lot.

I dreamed without limits, without filters.

Even as a child, I imagined different worlds, scenarios, inventions, brands that didn't yet exist.

He saw beauty in things that people didn't even look at: in a stone, in a shadow, in a gesture.

I didn't know it then, but that would be a constant in my life.

At sixteen, he was studying at the French Lyceum of Alicante.

I chose Biology, Physics, and Mathematics.

I always liked science because I was fascinated by how everything was connected: plants, minerals, the human body, the earth, the water.

But he was also a different kind of student.

I had dyslexia, and that made me learn in a different way.

I had trouble memorizing, I had trouble keeping up with the rest.

Sometimes it frustrated me, other times it just made me laugh.

I understood things in my own way: not as formulas, but as stories.

And although that wasn't always appreciated in school, over time I realized that that way of thinking was my gift.

He was a very sensitive boy.

I felt it all.

If someone got angry, I would notice.

If something went wrong, I could sense it before it happened.

And amidst that sensitivity, I also experienced difficult times, such as my parents' separation.

It was a tough stage, where I learned to adapt, to become strong from within.

You don't fully understand things at that time, but over the years you see that each situation shapes you, teaches you, prepares you.

Today I know that all of that was necessary.

Family has always been the center of everything for me.

From a young age, I understood that without family, you are nothing.

That's where everything comes from: values, character, the way of looking at the world.

I grew up surrounded by people who taught me without speaking:

my mother Ana, with her infinite energy, her serene gaze, and that blend of strength and tenderness;

my father, in his most silent but ever-present way;

and my grandparents, who are a huge part of all of this.

I inherited my character from my grandfather Juan, that way of being in the world with firmness, with respect, with quiet pride.

From my grandfather Pepo, I inherited creativity and ingenuity.

He always found solutions to everything, and he had that spark that made the simplest things seem important. I've seen such big things that I won't settle for less.

And from my grandmother Justina, the soul.

The affection, the Wednesdays after school at her house, the smells, the laughter.

From my grandmother Manoli, kindness and gratitude.

She taught me to see the beauty in everyday things, to appreciate the small gestures. To give without receiving, to love and care for your family.

All of that, without me knowing it, became the heart of Andesites.

I grew up surrounded by shops, family conversations, summer afternoons, and the feeling that life had something more to offer.

That there was a hidden purpose, something I didn't yet understand but felt was waiting for me.

I always had that restlessness, that inner fire that tells you that you are destined to build something, even if you don't know what it is yet.

Sometimes I found it hard to find my place.

I was very young, very observant, and the world seemed to move faster than I could.

But over time I learned that you shouldn't rush.

That the things that are truly valuable are formed slowly, like a volcanic rock after fire.

Back then, I didn't know that that image—the lava, the transformation, the mineral—would end up giving my life its name.

But it was already there, beating.

Alicante taught me everything.

He taught me to respect, to be humble, to trust the process.

To value calm.

To understand that family is not just those who accompany you, but those who support you when everything is changing.

Every conversation with my mother, every silence with my father, every meal with my grandparents were lessons that now, looking back, make perfect sense.

That land, that sea, those people: all of that is inside Andesites.

Andesites, in reality, began long before it had a name.

It started in those childhood days.