I use a 90 year old Singer "Irish" machine, the production of which was stopped in the 1950s so they have become very rare with only a small and dwindling number of embroiderers who still know how to use them. Jenny King is the OG. The machine performs only one type of stitch, a satin stitch, where the needle darts from side to side, as wide as 12mm. Your foot controls the speed pedal which can go up to 4,000 stitches per minute with complete precision (although you'd be mad to attempt it). With your two hands on the embroidery hoop, you move the fabric freely under the needle to create the design, almost like painting with the needle. And there's one more element. A knee lever hangs down on the right-hand side and as you embroider, you push against it with your knee to determine the width of the stitch you are making so that you can glide seamlessly from wide to narrow. ​ It is the most beautiful machine you've ever seen and I've fallen in love with the craft, the precision, the history and all the millions of possibilities it has opened up for me. That being said, it's also unbelievably capricious, goes wrong more than it goes right and it's always because of the tiniest bit of fluff being where it shouldn't be. It's frustrating to the point of utter desperation but we're slowly learning to get along. Pro tip: If you're interested in learning this technique but can't get your hands on one of these special "Irish" machines, you can also do it with a normal sewing machine! There are just a couple of features you need to make sure you machine has: 1) variable stitch width (as wide as possible, max. is usually 7mm), ideally with a sliding button to adjust 2) possibility to lower the feet dogs Get in touch with me if you have questions and I'll be happy to help you get started!

I love textiles and design so much that it was a particularly difficult decision for me to stop buying new clothes for good. But once you become aware of the part your buying habits play in fueling the impunity of the fast fashion industry to deplete the planet's resources and treat workers like shit, it's hard to ignore. I've swapped my need for quantity and newness, with an appreciation of treasure hunting characterful pre-loved items, and handmade pieces made by real people with names and small businesses. ​ When you pick up something I've made, I hope you'll bear this in mind and feel like you found something special. I aim for designs that have a dreamlike, uplifting quality. I want you to feel different when you wear or use it, like today will be a little better.

When someone picks up someting I've made, I'd like them to say one of my grandmother's catchphrases: "Think of the work that went into making that!" We've become so disconnected from what it takes to produce something. Many of us avoid picking up a needle, a hammer or a paintbrush even to do the simplest of things. By learning how to make clothes, to embroider by hand and make all kinds of other things, my attitude to what I buy has completely changed. I find myself drawn to the old rather than the new. I turn things over to look at the back, the underside and how it was made. Hand embroidery is ones of slowest crafts you can do and requires extreme patience and yet it has an incredibly deep history in so many cultures across the world. Why do we bother? Would it matter if we stopped? For me the answers are obvious but I think it's important that we at least ask ourselves these kinds of questions. I want the owner of what I make to feel like they are wearing/using a work of art and a work of skilled craft. I want people who see them with it to find it unique and exciting and want to ask questions about it. I want the owner to feel proud of it, becuase it's unique, rich in heritage and special and also becuase it is made with particular values. I hope the people buying from me will share my values and in doing so, appreciate the work and thought that has gone into the process of making. And if anyone is inspired to pick up a tool and get to work, I'll consider that a win.

I'm a maker, a thrifter, a bargain hunter, a make-do-and-mender, a nicknack collector, do-it-yourselfer, craft-obsessed magpie. I love clothes but not the industry. I love learning but not being taught. I love details and knowing how things work and sitting in my studio doing more thinking than making. I live and work in a small village in the South of France, surrounded by vines and birds. The light here is different. It's a known fact. This is, after all, the land of Cezanne, Monet, Van Gogh and Matisse and so many others. But there is much more creativity to discover here than just painters. I've met sculpters and leather workers and jewellers and designers; everyone here has a craft. And what a wonderful thing that is.