WHEN A KOMODO DRAGON LAZILY CROSSED THE ROAD IN FRONT OF MY BALINESE SCOOTER PILED WITH FRESHLY DYED COTTON DRESSES, AN INNER VOICE CHIMED: LUXURY IS ABOUT THE RICHNESS OF EXPERIENCE. EATING RICE FROM BANANA LEAVES ON A STOOP OUTSIDE INDIGO DYING HUTS. RIDES THROUGH PADDY FIELDS TO MARKETS. OFFERINGS AT TEMPLE ENTRANCES, THE SOUND OF GAMELAN FLUTES. IMAGINE IF MY FRIENDS COULD OBSERVE THIS, I THOUGHT, BEFORE INSTAGRAM. THE CLOTHES WERE PRETTY, BUT BALINESE ORIGINS WERE THE VALUE.

WHILE STANDING IN RUBBER BOOTS PROTECTING MY FEET FROM BLEACH USED TO SOFTEN DENIM AT FACTORY IN MEXICO A COUPLE YEARS LATER, MY EPIPHANY GOT STRONGER. CONCEPTS. PATTERNS. SEWERS. HARDWARE. FABRICS FROM TURKEY & JAPAN. ACID DYES. DREMEL TOOLS FOR THE PERFECT FADE. TORTILLA CHIPS, SALSA & HORCHATA POWERING LATE NIGHTS. KINSHIP BLOSSOMING WITH HIGH-FIVES OVER THE SOUND OF SEWING MACHINE FEET. AND CARLOS, THE EIGHTEEN-WHEEL DRIVER WHO GULPED MUDDY COFFEE FOR DAYS CROSSING MOUNTAIN RANGES TO REACH THE BORDER WHERE CUSTOMS AGENTS SEARCHED HIS TRUCK PACKED WITH SIZES 25-36. JEANS WERE THE FINISHED PRODUCT, BUT CREATIVITY, CAMARADERIE & WILLPOWER INFUSED EVERY PAIR.

THAT’S WHEN I KNEW TO ROOT MY PHILOSOPHY IN MY FAVORITE COUNTRY, WITH ARTISANS WHO’D CRAFT AN ARRAY OF SUSTAINABLE GOODS. FIRST UP, A COLLECTION OF BAGS MADE WITH TWO DRAFTING TABLES, A SEWING MACHINE, & STEALTH SKILLS BY THE COLLAZO BROTHERS IN THEIR TINY GARAGE/WORKSHOP. ENERGIZED BY TRANSISTOR RADIO TUNES, THE THREE OF US BROUGHT TO LIFE A VISION FOR MORERN SHAPES, USING TRADITIONAL ARTISAN TOOLS WHILE THE FAMILY PUPPIES SLEPT AT OUR FEET. NO JOKE. NEITHER SPANISH NOR ENGLISH WAS SPOKEN OR MATTERED. HANDLE LENGTHS AND CURVED EDGES WERE CLARIFIED WITH HAND GESTURES, PENCILS, AND PASSION. LANGUAGE WAS OUR MUTUAL PRIDE IN CRAFT, AND KINGSLEY WAS BORN.