Flotsam and Jetsam, (day-to-day studio life).

Hello from the Granaté Prêt studio, Sometimes I can’t believe the amount of mess the design process creates: tools, equipment, and materials, they eddy around me as I work. Sometimes the studio corners have veritable DRIFTS of fine, multi-coloured wool dust while cutting garments out, (seemingly only minutes after vacuuming or sweeping!) and it’s inevitable that…

Snow Patterns

.       The late afternoon sunlight streams into my studio windows as I stretch my back. Slanting across the paper-covered cutting table where I’ve been making patterns, the warm rays highlight line upon line of tiny perforated holes pock-marking the white surface.   My eyes trace the arcs and straight lines of various design lines…

Pathways Skirt

I love how so many things in life are tiny pictures of something bigger. The Fractal display of muscle fibers flows in harmony with river deltas or the veins in a leaf. A forest of neurons echoes the interlacing I see when gazing up at a web of tree branches, their roots an inversion of…

Atticus: behind the Seams

I love looking at people’s hands. From the Fibonacci perfection of an infant’s curled tiny fingers to the age-gnarled hands of a grandparent, so much is done by our hands. They say so much about us. One of the strongest pairs of supporting hands in my life are my Daddy’s. As a child I suspected he could…

Tea pots and Scrub Buckets.

So, one time, my dear friend had a little child in CHOP (Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia) with a scary infant heart surgery. That place is AMAZING. Walking past numerous doorways, seeing through the glass windows in the doors, beautiful Arthur Rackham illustrations framed on the walls, messages from patients, and heartbreakingly inspiring photos of little…

No Designer is an island…

It’s early morning, the Photographer’s music fills the room as he tests the lighting by snapping photos of his assistant… people are checking their phones for messages, the clothing hangs on a rack organized by model, a burst of laughter filters from the hair and makeup room… my cousin and sister chop fruits and cheese…

Lifeline, Norn-threads, and my Mother.

Everything is interwoven, threads following throughout life…each thread strung with numerous thoughts that can be drawn close, or pushed further away. One tiny incident or visual cue, one strand of music or a filament of scent can open a cache of memories. One of the strongest threads in my life is my Mother.  She is wise,…