In the once-upon-a-time days, in a cold land far away, grandmothers knew how to felt.  They would moisten sheep fluff and knead it for a very long time, flatten it on a mat and roll it up, throw the full heft of their body on it, over and over, incise their tribal totems into it, apply it to another piece of felt, and repeat until a warm wooly rug is accomplished and their hearth, in the snowy mountains of Kyrgyzstan, is colorful and cozy.  

Then, in one corner of this world, granddaughters bothered to learn the same arduous prcoess, only, why not try it on a sheer little silk?  Why not make things oh-so-chic and warm, but not too warm?  Why not layer the silk in stunning color combinations? Why not ask why not?  

 
 

Along came ibu and fell in love with the possibilities.  We design a show-stopping dress you might want to wear for a gala or an opening or a holiday party.  We measure, draw, drape,   contact the granddaughters.  We sample, tweak, repeat.  What is in it for you is . . . stunning.

I want you to be the first to know that Seven Sisters, along with the women of remote Kyrgyzstan, have been busy whipping up the ibu fall collection of magnificent feltwear.  Dresses for the holidays, long and short - spectacular.  Wrap skirts and draping shawls.  Jackets already sold out - more are on their way.

In the chilly mountain air of a remote town in Central Asia, the workshop of the grandmothers continues, honoring not only the skills of this unique inheritance but also now, for the first time, generating income upon which these women are crafting a healthy future. 

Zhanyl, (above, top right) is both a felter and a silversmith accomplishing her own design.  She speaks English fluently, actively engaging in our long distance designing. She is a business woman and manager, as her sisters are also, oversee the dyeing, felting, sewing, shipping, and above all, the women of this enterprise as they grow into self-sufficient lives, building a strong sisterhood.

Nobody beats the gals in Kyrgyzstan.  Felting is the art of their hands, the music in their genes, the warmth on their cold nights.  And now, it is a song come to us.  One, I do believe, you will absolutely thrill to sing. 

 

All the best,
Susan Hull Walker