slouch shoulder bag

It’s a Saturday morning in Utrecht, and Breedstraat is overflowing with colour and textiles. I’m shoulder to shoulder with kindred spirits, sifting through endless layers of linen, calico, silk and patchwork. A feast for the eyes and the soul. I trace embroidered patterns, buttons and ribbons, daydreaming on what shapes these fabrics will take. Perhaps a dress for my daughter who lovingly tugs at the hem of mine, or a shawl for my grandmother, as a token of thanks for the trade she taught me.