More Than a Place to Wear My Designs
A few weeks ago, I wrote about why I designed Still Life as a travel capsule wardrobe. While my husband Charlie and I were visiting our family in Minnesota this past week, I had the opportunity to put the collection to the test. The weather was hot, the days were full of family visits, board games, long conversations, and coffee runs, and I found myself reaching for the very pieces I had designed for exactly those kinds of experiences. The Lydia Tank Dress paired with the Adriana Printed Denim Vest carried me comfortably through warm afternoons, the Bethany Plaid Skort and Tatiana Baby Tee became an easy everyday uniform, and as the evening cooled, I threw on the Gabriela Satin Hoodie while we stayed up talking and playing cards.
That trip reminded me of something I hadn't fully realized while writing my previous journal. Travel has certainly influenced the way I think about designing clothing, but it has also influenced nearly every major creative project I've worked on over the past decade.
I can trace many of my collections to places I've visited, museums I've wandered through, conversations Charlie and I have had while exploring unfamiliar cities, and moments that seemed ordinary at the time but became the beginning of something much larger. Only now, after years of traveling together, can I see just how deeply those experiences have become woven into my creative process.
Rome and the Beginning of a Pattern
In 2019, Charlie and I took our first international trip together to Rome. I was completely captivated by the city's history, architecture, and ornamentation. Everywhere we turned seemed to reveal another beautifully carved doorway, another centuries-old church, another fountain, sculpture, or gigantic staircase that somehow managed to feel both monumental and intimate at the same time.
By the time we boarded our flight home, my mind was still racing with everything we had seen. Somewhere over the Atlantic, I opened my iPad and created a digital illustration of our Strawberry Crossbones logo covered in jeweled crowns and ornate embellishments inspired by the decorative details I had admired throughout the city.
That illustration eventually became the cover artwork for a Berried Alive song called Legendberry. Later, it evolved into a repeating print that appeared across apparel and merchandise. Years after that, I revisited the same design from an entirely different perspective, translating it into a hand-rendered pastel painting.
Looking back, that creative journey feels strangely familiar. Long before House of Caswell existed, I accidentally worked backwards through the process that would later define the brand. Instead of beginning with a pastel painting that evolved into prints and garments, the artwork began as a digital illustration inspired by travel, became apparel, and only years later returned to the physical world through soft pastels. It was a creative circle I never could have anticipated while sitting on that airplane.
That same trip inspired another project in an entirely different way. While wandering through one of Rome's vintage markets, Charlie and I found a vendor who transformed old denim jackets and military camouflage jackets by sewing vintage band T-shirts onto the backs. We loved that each jacket was completely unique, giving new life to garments that already had their own history.
When we returned home, that idea stayed with us. Rather than recreating what we had seen, I translated the concept into something uniquely our own. I developed a proprietary camouflage print built from our Strawberry Crossbones logo, used the color palette from the commissioned Fuego album artwork to create the print, and worked with Portland Garment Factory to produce the Hellapeño Camo Jacket. The result wasn't simply inspired by Rome. It became a reminder that inspiration often comes from unexpected places, not only museums and famous landmarks, but flea markets, conversations, and handmade objects created by other artists.
Standing in Front of the Pyramids
A few years later, Charlie and I finally traveled to Egypt after the pandemic delayed many of our original plans. Before we left, I had created an illustration called Berraoh, a berry pharaoh inspired by ancient Egyptian art and symbolism. We printed the artwork in gold foil on black long-sleeve shirts, added matching Strawberry Crossbones graphics down the sleeves, packed them in our suitcases, and brought them with us.
When we visited the Pyramids of Giza and Karnak Temple, we wore those shirts while photographing the artwork in the very places that had inspired it. Early in the morning, I sat in our hotel overlooking Giza with the pyramids visible through the window while editing those photographs.
Even now, it feels surreal to remember that moment.
There I was, sitting beside one of the most recognizable landmarks in human history, editing photographs of clothing inspired by ancient Egypt while looking directly at the pyramids themselves. It felt as though the journey, the artwork, the photography, and the place had all folded together into a single creative experience.
That trip changed the way I think about travel. The most meaningful journeys are rarely just vacations. They become conversations between places, memories, artwork, clothing, photography, and ideas. The things we create influence the way we experience a destination, and the destination influences what we create in return.
Learning to Notice
Not every creative influence arrives through moments as dramatic as standing beside the pyramids. Sometimes inspiration appears in much quieter ways.
While shopping together on Bahnhofstrasse in Zurich, Charlie pointed out a colorful Gucci silk scarf whose logo had been constructed entirely from tiny flowers. "That looks like something you would make," he said.
He was right.
I have always loved taking logos and typography and building them from smaller illustrated elements. When we returned home, that scarf became the starting point for what would eventually become the Fruit Salad collection. Rather than flowers, I created an all-over pattern of colorful fruit, developed matching logo artwork, and built an entire streetwear collection around the concept.
I wasn't trying to recreate or copy the scarf, I was responding to the feeling it gave me and translating that inspiration into my own visual language.
The more I look back across my work, the more I realize this is how travel usually inspires me. I rarely come home wanting to reproduce what I've seen. Instead, I return with ideas that meld into current systems and eventually evolve into something entirely new.
Seeing the World Differently
I think one of the reasons travel has influenced my work so profoundly is because it teaches us to pay attention.
When we're home, familiarity has a way of softening our awareness. The streets we drive every day, the buildings we pass, the parks we walk through, they gradually become part of the background. We stop noticing details because they've become ordinary.
Travel interrupts that habit.
Suddenly we're looking up at architecture, noticing colors, studying textures, paying attention to signs, patterns, storefronts, gardens, markets, and artwork because everything feels new. We become more observant without even realizing it.
Of course, the places themselves are no more beautiful than home. For the people who live there, those same streets are simply part of everyday life. The difference isn't the destination. It's the attention we give it.
As a designer, I think that shift in perspective is one of the greatest gifts travel can offer. It reminds me to stay curious, to keep looking closely, and to remain open to inspiration wherever it happens to appear.
That, more than anything, is what I carry home with me.
An Invitation
One of my favorite things about designing House of Caswell is discovering that every collection carries a story long before the first garment is ever produced. Sometimes those stories begin with a family memory, sometimes they begin with a painting, and sometimes they begin thousands of miles from home while wandering through a city, visiting a museum, or simply noticing something that might have otherwise gone unseen.
If these reflections resonate with you, I would love to invite you to join the Collector's List, where I share new journal entries, behind-the-scenes artwork, design process, collection updates, and the stories that shape House of Caswell long before the finished garments exist. And in an upcoming Journal, I'll be sharing the story of Dream Swans, a future House of Caswell collection inspired by memories gathered across multiple countries and brought together into a single painting. I can't wait to share that journey with you.