Each one begins as a length of cloth and an idea that won’t leave the room. No patterns, no batches, no second takes. The petals are cut freehand, curled over heat, coaxed into place with the side of a thumb, then stitched — slowly, by the window, usually with the radio on.
Which is why there is no stock room, and no “restocking soon”. When a piece is finished it goes out into the world and the next one is somebody else entirely. Wear it on a lapel, in your hair, at the throat of a coat that’s seen things. Let the ribbons trail. They’re meant to.
— with love, from the cutting tablee8 · london · since the first one



not repeated