As a child, I fell asleep to a fairy tale lovingly told by my grandmother.
It was Peau d'Âne, a French fairy tale written by Charles Perrault.
Among all the strange and magical things in that story, there was one detail I could never forget. And as a young girl, that one detail always popped up in my dreams:
The princess' three dresses.
One the color of the weather.
One the color of the moon.
One the color of the sun.
I remember being completely mesmerized by the idea! Not by the castles, the wicked king, and the supposedly handsome prince. By the dresses she could wear. Or, in my young mind, play with!
The thought that someone could wear nature itself. That someone could wrap themselves in the sky. How wonderful! As children, we rarely question these things. We simply accept the magic and move on. So to me, it was perfectly normal, and I really wanted dresses like that.
I grew up, and I recently wondered if that story and that desire had stuck with me more than I had initially realized.
You see, I live in Baja California Sur, where nature is dramatic enough to make you stop mid-sentence. The desert glows gold. The sea changes color by the hour. The sky performs entire symphonies of light before most people have had their morning coffee.
Me? I get up at 5, hop on my road bike, and ride off into the sunrise.
I have witnessed beautiful mornings: rainbows welcoming the day, eerie fog in which I see fairies and goblins, and rays of light so perfect and symmetrical you can't help but wonder if that's normal. Because adults question the things that children accepted for what they were: magic.
I remember staring at the sky and thinking that nature often creates things far more beautiful than anything we could ever invent. And I remembered Peau d'Âne's story and wished, once more, to wear the beauty of nature. To dress like those warm rays of sunshine, like that mysterious fog, or like those unpredictable rainbows.
I think this is why I do what I do. Write, design, and create, with much of my inspiration coming from quiet moments of deep contemplation in nature.
Maybe that is what art is to many of us.
Or what design or fashion is.
Not so much about creating beauty, but about translating it.
Trying to capture a tiny fragment of a moment that moved us and giving it a form we can hold on to and carry home.
A poem.
A painting.
A photograph.
A piece of jewelry. And if I had one ounce of Coco Chanel's talent: dresses.
The older I get, the less interested I become in owning things for the sake of owning them. What interests me now are objects that carry pieces of souls. The modern world calls them "stories," but with "storytelling" being everywhere online, I am now annoyed by the word.
Now, I want what I wanted as a young girl about to fall asleep: objects that remind me of something larger than myself. Ordinary objects that feel a little less ordinary because I believe in their magic.
I guess the little girl who dreamed of wearing the sun may have grown up but never entirely disappeared. She just fell asleep for 20 years...
And now, at 38, she is trading fairy-tale dresses for smaller treasures. Like my Celestial earrings, inspired by those symmetrical rays of sunlight piercing the clouds. Or my Waves of Light collection. Or the poems written on my silk scarves...
I guess I do try to infuse that beautiful magic I still believe in into our everyday.
And perhaps even that is what many of us are doing nowadays: waking up. Compromising a bit, yes, but still searching for ways to carry wonder into everyday life. Still finding little pieces of magic to hold, wear, and live with.
Love,
Anne
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