Into The Woods: A Reflection
When I first moved to the hills, I thought I’d arrived the day the boxes were unpacked. I hadn’t. It took me two years to slow down to the pace of this place, two years of quietly resisting the very thing I knew I needed.
I kept my city rhythm long after I’d left the city. I filled the quiet because it felt unfamiliar. Some part of me understood what the trees were offering, and another part wasn’t ready to be someone who accepted it. That’s the strange thing about becoming. You can want a new life and still grip the old self tightly.
Slowly, the hills did what they do. The light moved across the studio floor. The seasons turned, and I turned with them. One morning I noticed I was no longer hurrying, and I couldn’t say when it had stopped.
Into The Woods is that unfolding. It’s my own seasons of growth: the resistance, the softening, the integration of a self I’m still meeting. I designed it the way I walk the paths near my studio, slowly and noticing things. A print that reminded me of wildflowers at the edge of the trail. Linen and cotton that soften with every wash, the way we do when we stop bracing. Silhouettes that move with you, not against you.
The photoshoot was the moment it became real. Standing among the trees as the pieces caught the light, I felt something settle. Less a finish line, more an exhale.
I released the range at the spring equinox, when light and dark stand in balance and the earth begins again. It felt right. Renewal doesn’t arrive all at once, so I’m sharing this collection slowly too, in small batches.
The Pink Posy Midi Skirt and the black bubble top came first. They’re the kind of pieces that slip easily into the wardrobe you already have, ready to be worn with what you own and who you’re becoming. The skirt was the one that stopped people at my finders keepers market stall. I think it carries a little of the woods you can wear anywhere.
If you’re in the middle of your own arriving, be patient with yourself. Some things take two years. Some take longer. All of it counts.
With love,
Lisa
