The Pattern Books
My Grandma Mayella worked in the fabric department at Walmart when I was a little girl. Because of that, my childhood was structured around seasons of patterns.
When a new round of Simplicity and McCall’s books arrived behind the cutting counter, the old ones came home with her. Those oversized catalogs were treasures to me. My mom would carefully cut out the illustrated models from the little girls’ and teen sections. Later, when I was older, I cut them out myself.
I had thousands.
They were paper dolls, technically. But to me they were entire societies. I gave them names, ages, school grades, family trees. I sorted them into households. I gave them everything short of social security numbers.
I played with them until the paper softened and bent at the edges. And then another season would pass, and another book would arrive.
Learning to Feel Fabric
But the paper dolls were only part of it.
I wandered the aisles of the fabric department while my mom visited my grandma at work. I would run my hands across bolts of velvet, tulle, satin, and cotton. I understood instinctively which fabrics felt pleasant to me and which ones were disappointing.
To this day, I move through clothing stores with my hands first and my eyes second. I cannot pass a rack without touching it. I feel my way through garments, making quiet internal judgments about quality.
Fabric has always been sensory to me, which is why developing Still Life felt so intimate. Every textile I chose was one I could not stop touching.
The Remnants
During development, my studio slowly filled with fabric: swatches, strike-offs, revised strike-offs when the scale wasn’t quite right. Approved yardage. Rejected yardage. Luxurious lengths printed from a single original pastel painting.
By the time production began, I was surrounded by stacks of Still Life fabric, and much of it technically had no purpose anymore, now that I’d rejected or approved it.
It bothered me more than I expected. I would lie awake thinking about those folded remnants. Fabric that had been designed, printed, handled, and loved, now sitting still.
Fashion has normalized waste in ways that feel almost invisible. Overproduction, discarded samples, and excess inventory are all things we accept as structural, inevitable.
I never have. On my ten-year goals list for House of Caswell, I wrote that by the end of 2035 I want the brand to be fully sustainable. That cannot coexist with beautiful fabric sitting unused.
On that same list, I had written another goal: by 2030, I wanted to introduce an accessories line.
One night, somewhere between frustration and clarity, I realized those two goals were not separate. No fabric goes to waste.
The Accessories Line
From July to October of 2025, I spent one hour every night at my sewing table, after emails. Meetings, and the business side quieted down.
I would put on an audiobook and begin. Cutting into beautiful fabric always carries a small ache, even when it is purposeful. I pinned carefully, stitched slowly. Out of what remained emerged something even more limited than the garments themselves.
The Daisy Turban Headband
I created two variations of the Daisy Turban Headband.
The first is crafted from the lyocell twill printed in the mid-century geometric I call the Retro Stem Pattern. This fabric was primarily used in the Evie Cutout Dress and also appears in the Veronica Ensemble, making the headband a natural extension of either silhouette. It completes the look without competing with it.
The second version is made of 100% silk charmeuse, impossibly smooth, luminous, and indulgent and printed in the same pattern as the Mia Ensemble. In silk, the print feels fluid and refined. It transforms the headband into a final, luxurious finishing touch for the full set.
The turban-knot silhouette itself feels deeply aligned with Artful Nostalgia. Last year, I painted a vintage-inspired woman wearing a turban hat, and her image lingered with me long after the painting was finished. This headband is a modern echo of her.
An outfit feels intentional when it is crowned.
The Charm Bags
The charm bags followed: small, clip-on silhouettes designed to attach to a belt loop. They remind me of the Tamagotchis I wore in the 90s and the style icons of my youth, like the Spice Girls, the Olsen twins, Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Accessories that felt playful.
The Kaitlin Twill Charm Bag is crafted from the same lyocell twill Retro Stem Pattern used in the Evie and Veronica pieces. The exterior feels structured yet soft. Inside, it is lined with a sample of the satin used to line the Evie Cutout Dress and the Carly Ensemble. A hidden continuity.
It is finished with brass zippers, brass clips, and a small charm engraved with the House of Caswell logo. Clipped to the belt loop of the Veronica Ensemble, it feels inevitable.
The Jada Denim Charm Bag shares the same brass hardware but features the monogram printed denim as its exterior, perfectly complementing the Adriana Ensemble. Inside, it is lined with a strike-off lyocell twill that I originally rejected for the Veronica Ensemble because the print scale was too large. Ironically, in miniature, the scale disappears entirely, so it reads as pure color. A mistake transformed into subtle detail.
So in this way, even the rejected fabric found its place. What surprised me most was how complete the collection felt once the accessories existed. An outfit is not fully itself until it is finished. Accessories are not decorative afterthoughts. They are the final brushstroke, the closing sentence.
An Invitation
If this philosophy resonates with you, I invite you to explore the pieces born from the remnants.
The Daisy Turban Headband
The Jada Denim Charm Bag
The Kaitlin Twill Charm Bag
Each is produced in even more limited quantities than the garments themselves, crafted from the fabrics that shaped Still Life by my own hands.
And if you would like early access to future limited editions, private releases, and the quiet thinking behind each collection, you are always welcome to join the Collector’s List.
A more intentional space.
For those who believe nothing beautiful should go to waste.
