Most of our work is responding to customer requests. There isn’t much chance to put our own “things we want to make” at the front.
And yet, in the quiet spaces between jobs, there are a few fabrics we keep sketching in our minds.
One of them is that certain air you sometimes find in old vintage pieces.
The yarn isn’t perfectly even. The weave has a little roughness to it. And somehow, as time passes, all of that becomes the character of the fabric. Try to reproduce it with today’s precision techniques, and it always turns out a little too clean. Intentional unevenness and naturally born unevenness are different things—we feel this more strongly the more we try.
How to get closer to that air? We don’t have the answer yet, but we keep trying—yarn choices, loom settings, and the dye process itself, one by one.
The other one is, honestly, a more modest idea.
A fabric for jeans you reach for every day. Nothing flashy. Just something that, when you hold it, makes you feel “I could grow old with this.” A fabric that slowly bends itself around the shape of your life.
Nothing special. Just something that quietly stays with you. That is, strangely, the hardest thing to make.
Neither of these will take form overnight.
But if we stop holding them in our heads, we will not be ready when the moment comes. So, today too, somewhere in the background, we are thinking about those two fabrics.