Half Bloomed

Spring is unfolding around us— soft green shoots pushing up through the soil, floral scents wafting down the street on my morning walks with Rhu, sunlight staying just a little longer each evening. There’s that hum of newness, a promise of something coming. And still... not everything is blooming all at once.

Some things take longer.

A few weeks ago, I imagined all of our new pieces would be here by now— wrapped in tissue, ready to send off to your hands and homes. But they’re still out at sea, floating their way to us from India, carried by the slow rhythm of trade winds and tides.

And honestly? This is a tender reminder for me... that real craft— slow, intentional, soul-led craft— asks for time. 

There are humans behind each of these pieces. Hands. Histories. This is not fast fashion. It’s the old way. And the old way doesn’t rush.

And while we try our best to patiently wait, there have been a few doorways that have opened. My hands have not been idle. I’ve been dreaming about what Wülf Dotter will become - about her bloom. I’ve been finding new artisan partners, both local to Texas, and on the other side of the globe.

Last week, I ventured out on a day trip to Round Top, Texas— a legendary vintage and artisan market tucked into the hill country a few hours away from my home in Austin. It’s the kind of place where time warps a little, where treasures are found under dusty linens and in sun-drenched tents that span miles of open field, and every object has a story. A story that I want to help tell. A story that feels like I've been writing it all along, like that part in the book when you realize the narrator is the main character, and that main character is you. 

All of these treasures feel like my own love story, the story of me finding myself through the creation of this brand.  

So here's a list of a few of the items I've been sourcing, a little foreshadowing of what's to come...

Supple goat and cowhide leathers, ready to become our first offering of handmade slippers— earthy, timeless, and made to move with you through the seasons.

Woven baskets sourced from an African artisan— a basket like the one I found over 3 years ago at a market in Canada and have been searching for others like it ever since. Each one is perfect for market mornings, wildflower foraging, or delivering pies and broths to the people you love.

Vintage quilt fabrics that made my heart skip— much like those quilts that were handed down to me from generations of women who came before me... fragments of the past that will be lovingly stitched into what comes next.

Delft tiles — old Dutch ceramics that have stood the test of time, hand-painted and lovingly moved from building to building over the decades. Each one a tiny love letter to craft, a reminder of what endures when things are made with care.

I found myself lingering beside these old things, tenderly touching them and imagining what it means to leave something behind that inspires creation in the heart of another, generations later. 

These pieces made me want to make beautiful things— not just to be seen, but to be felt, remembered, and maybe, one day, loved by someone I’ll never meet.

And so it is, that new items are being dreamt into form now, slowly. Just like the season.

So if you’re also in a moment of becoming, if your own projects are still half-bloomed, or not here just yet— this is your reminder: not everything beautiful arrives on schedule. But it’s still coming. It’s on its way.

There is so much good coming.

Thank you for being here. For waiting with me. For believing in the beauty of things that are made with time and intention.

xx, 

Savvy