There is something about silk that feels like a secret. You know, the kind of secret your grandmother used to tell you when you were a kid. A little bit like my own Mamie used to say, “Only silk on your throat when it’s windy. It will protect you.”
It does not shout. It does not demand attention. It simply touches you, and you feel it. Its presence, its comfort.
For me, silk has always felt like a caress to the skin. And poetry has always felt like a caress to the soul. The parallel was too obvious for me to ignore.
And so I printed poetry on silk.
This collection began with four scarves carrying the same poem, a story you could wrap around your neck, knot in your hair, tie at your waist, or even frame on your wall. A poem that refused to stay on paper and needed to be set free.
The Indivisible poem is made to travel in the wind wherever you would dare to take it.
Now, two new editions are joining the collection. One design, two colors, and a new poem: Animal Instinct, illustrated by the artist Rodrigo Azanza. A reminder that softness and strength live in the same body. That elegance and wildness are not opposites. They are companions. I am just here telling you that we are all polished to the world but a bit feral inside.
One version is dark, the other lighter. It lives in those seconds between darkness and light, between night and day, between reality and dream, between wild instincts and controlled actions.
These scarves are crafted from natural Italian silk, printed and sewn in Spain by artisans who work with this delicate fabric at the highest level. I would have loved to produce them closer to home, but silk demands expertise and care. It deserves the right hands.
They are romantic, yes. Delicate, yes. But not fragile.
You can wear them in your hair on a windy morning. Around your throat on a busy day. Tied to your handbag. As a belt. Or framed like the artwork they are.
Because sometimes, in the middle of our very full lives, what we crave is softness. A detail that slows us down. A piece that moves when we dance. A reminder that beauty can be useful, and usefulness can be beautiful.
I give you silk on skin. Poetry in dancing in the wind.
With love,
Anne.
