Meet the Filipina behind Laufey’s tour aesthetic

When the email came in asking if she would design tour posters and merchandise for Grammy-winning artist Laufey, Gabrielle “Gabby” Uy thought it was a prank.

It only became real when Laufey’s twin sister and creative director, Junia Lin Jonsdottir, followed her on Instagram. That was the tell. This wasn’t a scam. This was a commission.

By then, Uy, 24, was already carving out a life—and a rhythm—in New York City. Fresh from graduating summa cum laude from Yale University’s arts program in 2025, she had gone full-time at 2x4, a design studio in Manhattan.

At 2x4, she works across branding, strategy, and environments for major fashion and cultural clients. “At 2x4 I’m both a designer and strategist, which is pretty rare,” she says. “Usually you’re one or the other.”

The studio’s intellectual rigor suits her. “I think good design usually is backed up by strategy, by intelligence, by really considering things and being very intentional.” She calls it “a very academic environment,” adding, “I think it’s kind of exactly what I want.”

Alongside her studio work, there is music—where her name has begun to circulate quietly but meaningfully.

Her first plunge into that world came during a summer at Special Offer Inc., another design studio, where she helped extend the visual universe of “Brat Summer” for another Grammy-winning artist, Charli XCX. “Who gets to design ‘Brat Summer’ in college? That’s crazy,” she says. The team expanded the album’s identity across tour graphics, merch and digital experiences. “That was my first taste of designing for real music… a crazy, throw-you-straight-to-the-deep-end-of-it learning experience.”

So when Laufey’s team reached out, she was ready.

“Usually music happens pretty quickly,” she says. For the smaller “A Night at the Symphony” tour, the turnaround was within a few weeks. For the “A Matter of Time” tour, it was “closer to several weeks from concepting to sketches to getting revisions.” She worked closely with Junia. “She’s super awesome… we work really well together. She gets it. She really gets it.”

If music feels serendipitous, fashion is second nature.

Uy is the daughter of Jerry and Sabrina Uy, the owners of Gingersnaps, the beloved Filipino children’s wear brand that has dressed generations. “All the dinner table conversations are about, not the business, but design,” she says. “For me, it’s almost like a form of play with my family, and with my mom especially. It’s genuinely how we hang out.”

Her mother may be more than hoping she’ll eventually return, but there is no pressure. “She’s really supportive of everything that I’m doing here. I'm doing pretty well for myself. I can pay my rent and I'm having fun. A lot of parents aren't always thrilled about their kids going into the arts, but I’m lucky that my parents get it.”

At 17, Uy launched The Loom Project, a slow-fashion label using handwoven Filipino textiles, which did pop-ups at Katutubo PH. In New York, she has collaborated with fashion brands like Madewell and Bode, the latter a brand favored by Laufey, which led to her gig with the singer. She has also worked with the ballerina Isabella Boylston and the Yale Center for British Art. Initially, she assumed her path would stay squarely in fashion. “That’s what I grew up in,” she says.

Even now, at 2x4, she’s often placed on fashion projects—Miu Miu, Prada, Aritzia—an intuitive fit given her background. But she has found something even more compelling in the overlap. “I found the sort of sweet spot in the intersection between music, art, and fashion—and that’s kind of what I love,” she says.

Living in New York has sharpened that clarity. “Oh yeah, I love it,” she says. The city’s scale and speed don’t intimidate her; they energize her. “I’m always inspired.”

For someone who could easily return home and step into a ready-made leadership role, she has chosen instead to build something on her own. “Why am I hustling so hard in New York when I could do something else? I think I just like it. I like the idea of doing something all on my own, as well,” she says. Away from the safety net of home, she gets to “explore my own creative voice. Starting from nothing means that you get to define what that thing is, and so I’ve had a really good time kind of trying to figure myself out both as a human being and a creative person.”

Her Filipino-ness threads quietly but firmly through that voice.

“I think culturally there’s a sense of humor and optimism and lightness to how we do things,” she says. “Design is such a joyful process.” She gravitates toward “fun and playfulness,” adding, “I like things to be funny. But I can do serious, too. I'm interested in kind of pushing the limits of my visual style. I think people have come to recognize my work for being kind of illustrative, handmade, sometimes sweet, sometimes nostalgic. But I don't really want to be boxed in by those scriptures.”

More deeply, she connects her approach to the Philippines’ relational culture. “Coming from the Philippines, you’re always thinking about others,” she says. “You’re always considering how other people feel.” That instinct defines her briefs. “I’m always thinking about who I’m designing it for.”

What excites her most isn’t prestige—it’s impact. “The thing that excites me about a project is the clients themselves,” she says. “I think about how happy it’s going to make somebody… that more than anything is what motivates me.”

Even her process pushes against the hyper-digital churn of contemporary design. “I tend to work really analog,” she says. “I work with paint and I draw.” She values tactility and slowness. “Analog gives it a different feeling… I like to think that in the final product you can feel that level of care and attention.”

There are moments when she questions the grind. “Sometimes I’m like, man, my job is hard. I’m working long hours.” But then she catches herself. “Other times I’m like, it’s so unserious. I’m sitting by my window and I’m painting for hours… I’m doing this thing that I love in a city that I love.”

Long term, she allows herself a dream. “I think it’d be really cool to have my own studio,” she says. Then she laughs. “I don’t know what a studio is these days… I guess you could argue that I’m kind of doing that.” She loves the independence of freelance work but also the community of a studio. “Starting your own thing can feel very lonely. Maybe I’ll take the plunge at some point—but not right now.”

For now, she is exactly where she wants to be: in New York, in motion, following the projects that excite her most. “Working in music was never the long-term plan,” she says. “It kind of just happened.”

And she is happy to let it keep happening.