Where past collections like A Brave New World or The Pursuit of Good or The Season For Optimists were about looking towards the future; clothes designed to push you in the direction of your dreams, with this collection I was more focused on designing clothes that would ground me in the present.
I thought a lot about the genuine difficulty of dressing in-between seasons. That friction we feel when we try to bring our summer wardrobes with us even as the cold air tells us it's over. It’s little wonder to me why the indecisiveness of those awkward months makes us crave comfort. This collection is launching while I’m in my own season of uncertainty. Our little girl is due in May and for two blissful months this summer I allowed myself a break from thinking about what that means. I didn’t think about the birth or the harrowing sleep deprivation, I didn’t think about how the hell I’m supposed to run a business with two under almost-two, and I didn't think about our four parents back home in New Zealand, unable to drop by with a meal or a clean load of washing. I lay down overthinking, planning and executing, and allowed myself to just be. But now it’s a little over three months until she arrives, Mother Nature has offered no extensions, and I feel the same way that I did before I moved to Sydney, and right before I had Ralph: That the ground beneath my feet is about to move.
I wasn’t pregnant (or spiralling…) when I designed this collection and yet it strikes me that what I want from my wardrobe never really changes. I want clothes that don’t ask too much of me. Fabrics that are soft against my skin and forgiving of tears and hot flushes. Layers that are just as easy to peel back as they are to nestle beneath. And I want colours and silhouettes that offer something romantic even while being interrupted by real life. When I’m feeling scared about the future, I want to dig out an old sweater that smells like the outdoor fire back home and wear it over skin that looks like the best parts of summer in the Bay of Islands. The Been Loving You Too Long Sweater reminds me of those summers, of vintage cricket jerseys and salty sailors off-duty uniforms.
I cling to nostalgia because in uncertain times - like deciding whether to stay in Sydney or pack up our lives and move back to New Zealand, whether to take a (half) step back from the business I’ve built or build a crib in the office - the past is the only sure thing.
