I’ve been thinking about what it really means for something to last. It’s not loud and it’s not something you notice straight away. It reveals itself slowly, over time, in a much quieter way.
I think longevity is often misunderstood. It’s not just about something surviving the years, it’s about how it lives with you through them. The pieces that last don’t stay the same. They adapt. They soften. They become part of your everyday in a way that feels natural.
I always come back to the material first.
Cashmere, when it’s made well, isn’t fragile like people think. It’s soft, but it’s also strong in its own way. It responds to how you wear it and how you care for it, and over time it begins to change with you.
Longevity isn’t just about the material, it’s also about how we choose to live with things. Everything now moves quickly however the pieces that stay with us are never chosen in a rush. They’re the ones we come back to, the ones that earn their place over time.
And I think longevity asks something of us as well.
It asks us to slow down a little. To notice what we already have. To care for it, and to let it become part of our lives. When I design, this is always in my mind. I’m not designing for a moment. I’m thinking about the years after it. About how something will be worn again and again.
How it becomes part of someone’s rhythm. Their seasons. Their life as it changes. The shape of your days. The places you’ve been. The quiet moments you didn’t think twice about at the time. That kind of familiarity can’t be designed in from the beginning, it only comes with time.
And that, to me, is what really lasts.
It’s not about holding onto the past. It’s about creating something that can move with you. That’s always what I come back to.
Warmest,
Paula
