I maneuvered the janky sliding door, pulled on the bare lightbulb’s chain, and… stood in the closet — utterly amazed! — then, on tiptoe, ran my hands s l o w l y  down those stacked bolts of color and texture…

I’d discovered Mom’s incredible fabric stash: colorful cotton voiles and taffeta and dotted Swiss; brocades, peau-de-soie, and bouclés; silk and rayon velvets, and wool herringbone, houndstooth, and tweed.⁣..⁣⁣

At 23 years of age, she already had five children.

I was the eldest. 

I was five years old and knew I’d stepped into something deeply personal and private. 

I didn’t have words for it then, but now I understand that the closet was more than space to store fabric for her sewing designs.⁣⁣ 

It was a deliberate space. 

A dedicated space.  

Space she’d staked out and claimed for Herself. 

For her Soul.⁣⁣⁣ 

A sacred space. 

A sanctuary for tending to those parts of herself that threatened to get lost in (dare I say it!) “motherhood”.

She knew who she was and what was important.⁣⁣⁣

I’ll always treasure the gift of that closet story: the primacy of devotion to self and keeping sight of who you are amid desire and change.⁣⁣⁣

My closet tells a different story.

Beyond trends, true style is about intention.

I translate my passion for sustainable fashion into art by using natural dyes, reusing textiles, and remaking thrifted garms. 

These textiles then become conversation starters about slow fashion and the power of mindful choices.

What story does your closet tell? 

Or, what story does your wardrobe tell?⁠ 

Ever wonder about the hidden impact of your clothes?