Where Language Becomes Form
There are certain ideas that follow you quietly for months or years, waiting for the moment when they finally reveal what they were meant to become.
For me, that idea has always lived at the intersection of language and image.
I have always loved art that includes both. Text woven into ornament. Words embedded inside form. Repeating patterns that carry meaning, not just decoration. I hold a master’s degree in creative writing, and words have always been as essential to my practice as color or shape — whether through lyric writing for Berried Alive, or through visual work that treats language as something tactile and visual rather than purely read.
Monograms sit naturally in that space. They are language made ornamental. Identity turned into pattern.
Years ago, one of the artists who works with Berried Alive designed a monogram print for the band — a repeating BA motif with diagonal lines and Strawberry Crossbones logos. Charlie and I loved it immediately. We used variations of it across multiple products over the years, and it became part of the visual memory of that era.
When I later created the pastel painting Still Life — the original artwork that would go on to inspire the Still Life collection — I carried that motif with me. I used a colorful version of the monogram as a kind of vintage wallpaper behind the fruit bowl, letting it sit in the background. At the time, I didn’t realize I was already building a bridge.
Learning the Language of Pattern
In 2024, just before the idea of House of Caswell had fully formed, I began taking Skillshare courses on repeating pattern creation in Adobe Illustrator. I wanted to deepen my technical fluency — not just creating prints, but understanding how pattern collections function as systems.
I learned about hero patterns, coordinating patterns, and blender patterns. About restraint. About cohesion. About how repetition can create rhythm.
At the same time, I set myself a personal challenge: design one repeating pattern every day. And then, because I was also taking CAD courses, design one garment every day using those prints. It was a way of tying together everything I was learning — illustration, pattern, garment design — into a single evolving body of work.
At the time, I was designing for a hypothetical offshoot called Berried Alive Collection. I hadn’t yet allowed myself to imagine a brand of my own.
One of the coordinating patterns I created during that period became especially important. I titled it Futuristic Retro — a diamond-based repeat inspired by mid-century textiles, but rendered using Illustrator’s 3D tools so the shapes and logos appeared dimensional. It felt suspended between eras: nostalgic and forward-looking at once.
That pattern became the foundation for what would later become the Sophia Mock Neck Top, and eventually the Adriana jeans and vest. A 2D version even appeared on a knitted sweater we released for Berried Alive during the 2024 holiday season.
The pattern was already doing the work. I just hadn’t named it yet.
Removing the Symbol to Find the Mark
When House of Caswell finally took shape, I returned to the Still Life pattern collection and removed the Strawberry Crossbones logo from every print.
What remained felt unresolved. I knew I needed a symbol of my own. Not something imposed from the outside, but something extracted from what already existed.
I kept returning to the diamond.
There was something about it that felt right. It carries a subtle mid-century sensibility, but it isn’t a literal reference to any one thing. It’s architectural without being rigid. Decorative without being precious. Familiar, yet difficult to place.
Once I selected the official House of Caswell typeface, everything aligned.
I warped the words House of and Caswell to fit inside alternating rows of diamonds, recreating the original repeating structure, but this time, the pattern spoke my name. I flattened the design, removing the 3D effect so it could live more easily across fabric, denim, and print applications. The two-tone blue version now used on the Adriana Ensemble’s denim became a natural extension of that decision.
From repetition, identity emerged.
I also created a standalone logo — the diamond holding House of Caswell in its unwarped form. At first, it felt almost too spare. So I added Est. 2025 beneath it.
Not as a flourish. As a declaration.
Why Est. 2025 Matters
Starting a fashion brand in 2025 is not easy. Between global uncertainty, shifting tariffs, and a cultural moment that increasingly asks women to move backward rather than forward, this year carries weight.
I knew all of that when I began.
And I did it anyway.
The Est. 2025 isn’t about longevity yet, it’s about courage. It’s about marking the moment I chose to begin, despite knowing how difficult it would be. It’s about honoring the fact that House of Caswell was born in a year that demanded resolve.
That matters to me. And I wanted it reflected in the mark that would carry my name.
A New Year, Already in Motion
This week sits on the threshold between years. And it feels fitting to share this story now, not because it’s new, but because it clarifies what has been quietly building all along.
The House of Caswell monogram is not a departure from what I’ve been. It is a distillation of everything I’ve learned into what I’m becoming.
What began as surface became symbol.
What began as repetition became identity.
As the new year opens, House of Caswell does not arrive empty-handed. It arrives already knowing its mark.
If you’d like to continue following the stories behind each piece as House of Caswell takes shape, you can join the Collector’s List — where new journal entries, limited releases, and early access are shared first. The Sophia Mock Neck Top and the Adriana Ensemble are among the first garments to carry the monogram into form.