Behind the Design: The Mesa Wrap
I saw the sweater in a shop window in Nazaré, Portugal a couple summers ago.
The shop was closed. Just me on the sidewalk, getting strangely attached to a sweater through a glass.
Nazaré has this electric feeling, some weird ungodly energy.
Majestic cliffs. The biggest waves on earth. I mean seriously. Surfers from all over the world flock to this small town to rumble the beast.
Everything feels a little ancient there. The ocean. The vendors. The way nature does something massive in front of you and you’re just… there.
Lucky to witness it.
The sweater had that same energy.
Handmade, loved, a little mystical. Like it had been everywhere with someone and picked up a few secrets along the way.
I took a bad photo through the window and sent it to Amy immediately: we need this energy, in a sweater.
Not the sweater itself. The feeling.
I wanted it to feel like something you discovered, not something you bought.
The one that lives on the chair in your room. The one you reach for without thinking. Over leggings, denim, swim, a dress, whatever.
A go-to, but with a little more soul in it.
We didn’t want a copy of the window sweater. Not a watered-down version either.
A translation.
Something wearable, sustainable, and rooted in the elements we keep coming back to.
Sun and moon, for rhythm.
Mountains, for grounding.
Ocean, for reset. The place we keep going back to when my brain has been doing too much.
It’s a reminder that you need something bigger than yourself close by.
One colorway, on purpose.
Sometimes a design is just right and everyone needs to leave it alone.
It has that found-in-a-window feeling. A little weird, a little powerful.
The kind of sweater you pack “just in case” and then wear four nights in a row without meaning to. It wins. Every time.