A Room Built for Becoming
My studio isn’t a lofty industrial space or a glossy, glass-walled atelier. It’s a single room in the townhouse I share with my husband, Charlie. A room filled with art, instruments, fabric, memories, and the quiet hum of possibility.
Everything that becomes House of Caswell begins here.
Every garment.
Every bass line.
Every sketch, every idea, every small step toward the future I’m building.
It’s a room built for becoming.
The Corner Where Ideas Take Shape
In one corner sits my computer desk, my command center. My MacBook Pro is paired with an extra monitor so I can work in CLO3D on one screen while keeping my 2D sketches open on the other. This is where I design garments, edit my website, answer emails, and manage every administrative detail of the brand.
It’s also where I play music.
To some bassists, writing bass lines is improvisational. My approach is the opposite. I write my parts in MIDI inside ProTools, selecting each note with care. I pass them back and forth with Charlie once or twice until we both love the line. Then I transcribe the final version into Guitar Pro, adding slides, hammer-ons, pull-offs, fingerings, and string choices.
All my bass guitars rest on a rack within arm’s reach, ready whenever inspiration strikes. My Headrush FlexPrime pedal sits beside me on the desk. My journal, filled with to-do lists and half-formed ideas, never leaves my side.
Behind my desk is a shelf of fan art sent to us over the years by the Berried Alive community. It’s a reminder that nothing I build exists in isolation. Support, connection, and shared creativity make all of this possible.
Above it all hang my one-, five-, and ten-year goals for House of Caswell, framed and always in view. They remind me where I’m headed every time I look up. I sit here in a plush, overstuffed swivel chair, the kind that makes long days feel a little softer.
Practicing: The Quiet Center of the Room
This desk is also where I practice bass.
Practicing is my happiest place. It’s where my nervous system settles and my thoughts soften. The low hum of the instrument has always soothed me in a way nothing else quite can, which is one of the main reasons I play bass instead of guitar. I love living in the lower register. I love feeling sound as much as hearing it.
When I practice, I focus on my breathing and try to regulate it to match what I’m playing. The repetition becomes meditative. Notes turn into rhythm, rhythm into calm. It’s less about perfection and more about presence.
For years, I’ve kept track of every song I practice, every single day. I write them down by hand, filling notebook pages with lists that quietly document time, discipline, and devotion. Page after page, song after song. Looking back through them now, they feel like an archive of persistence. Proof that showing up consistently, even in small ways, shapes everything else I make.
Those pages live here too, near the desk, alongside the instruments, the sketches, and the work in progress. They remind me that practice is not separate from creation. It is creation.
Where the Collection Lives Before the World Sees It
Just behind my chair is a clothing rack holding all the samples, fit tests, and fabric swatches for House of Caswell. This rack feels like the beating heart of the room. It’s where each collection hangs together, piece by piece, waiting to become itself.
Next to it stands a tall bookcase filled with favorite books, old photo albums, travel souvenirs, and sentimental objects. They are reminders of who I was, who I am, and who I’m becoming. All of it feeds the emotional storytelling behind the brand.
The Painting Corner: Where Color Lives
Across the room by the window, where the lighting is best, an easel stays permanently set up. An old bedsheet covers the floor beneath it, and my case of soft pastels is always within reach.
This is where I paint when the mood strikes. It’s where my hands reconnect with color directly, without a screen or software between us.
On the opposite wall hangs the original framed Still Life painting, watching over everything I make. It’s a reminder of the beginning, and of how deeply this collection is rooted in instinct, emotion, and touch.
The Sewing Table: Making Beauty From Every Scrap
On the far side of the room sits my sewing table. It’s a folding table covered with an iron-safe pad, my Janome MyStyle 100 sewing machine, sewing tools, and my lavender Nori iron, chosen because lavender is the signature House of Caswell color.
This is where I hand-make the accessories for the brand. I use fabric samples, strike-offs, and leftover pieces from the collection and transform them into something new. I’m determined to make House of Caswell as low-waste as possible. I love fabric too much to let it go unused. Every scrap deserves a life.
This table is also where I wrote every single Certificate of Authenticity for the Still Life collection by hand. Each one was individually numbered, carefully written, and placed into its own envelope. I simply pushed my sewing tools aside to make room.
It took several days to complete them all, but I wanted to do it myself. This brand and this collection matter deeply to me. Writing each certificate by hand felt like a quiet promise, a personal mark of care that could never be replicated by a printer or a shortcut.
This corner of the room feels like a sanctuary. It’s the most tactile and meditative part of my work, where I slow down, touch every fiber, and remember why I do this. I always listen to audiobooks while I sew, often fashion history, pop culture, or ancient history, letting past and present blur together.
One Room, Infinite Worlds
This studio may be small, but it holds every version of me: the musician, the painter, the designer, the business owner, the storyteller.
It’s the room where sound becomes silhouette, where ideas become art, and where clothing becomes memory.
Every future collection, every direction I dream of taking House of Caswell, begins here.
If you’re drawn to this way of working, to the slowness, the care, and the quiet rituals behind each piece, I invite you to join the Collector’s List. It’s where I share early access, studio notes, and moments from the process as collections come to life.
And if you’d like to see how this room translates into clothing, the Still Life Collection is available to explore. Each piece carries the same intention, crafted in limited quantities and designed to be lived with over time.
Thank you for being here, and for stepping inside the studio with me.