Ancient elementary fibers were bonded together to offer two sensations and functions – one side is textured and gives structure/resilience, echoing the severity of the building; the other side is a soft friend of skin. Together they have been streak-dyed with volcanic charcoal. I developed this for the napkin, the towel; and no two are alike.
Using machines that live only in Japan, cotton was densely knit to give the structure of a woven with the flexibility of a knit. It has been carbon dyed and will continue to evolve with use. I developed this barrier for the technicians on floor 3. The silhouette for this ‘apron’ took more iterations than any other, but once I heard the words “you’ve made me a spacesuit!” I knew we had arrived. The piece is modular with three modes of wear.
Wool: known by most as a winter fiber (and it does excel as insulation), it is in fact my favorite for summer as it breaths deeper than linen and surpasses even tech fabrics in moisture and odor resistance. I developed a paper-thin yet structured wool and shaped it into a sleeveless tunic for those humans of Vespertine who tend to the guests, lending an architectural presence, joining them with the building. This is set over the flowing Japanese cottons that make these humans light and free. Their goatskin slippers are nearly weightless, gliding on air.
And an arsenal of experimental materials, from protein-finished cotton to steel gauze bonded to a washi knit, fabricate the variations on a chef’s coat that I’ve engineered for the mastermind of Vespertine.