Story of MOTHERS and DAUGHTERS

The first memory I have of my mom are her hands. Skilled hands to which nothing was precluded, from the care of the land to that of the animals, from the competence with which she cut and sewed to the creativity with which she transformed the sleeve of a coat, tired of being turned inside out, into a delightful felt hat. Nothing was thrown away, everything was used and recycled according to the good Friulian custom.

The traditional Friulian scarpèts, very current even today, cyclically rediscovered by fashion designers and artisans, were the perfect emblem of "creative reuse". A worn piece of bicycle tire became the anti-water sole, the scraps of the pieces used to sew the sheets, or the old worn shirts, were folded, folded another-time and then sewn together with the tire to form a compact layer of 1 cm, from where my mom then cut out the shape of the sole. The upper was always a piece of discarded fabric, sometimes of velvet, sometimes of humble cotton, on which she embroidered tiny violets and primroses.

FLOWERS were her true passion, he took care of them with absolute love in his garden (this version of our scarpèts is a tribute to his roses)

or she created them with pieces of cloth and a candle to shape the petals. I have never forgotten that magic, a timeless beauty that continues to inspire the laboratory's projects.

She also cut them out of silkworm cocoons, this she had learned from her mother-in-law, my paternal GRANDMA, whom she considered as her real MOM and was reciprocated as if she were the most loved DAUGHTER.

Just as MOMS can become DAUGHTERS in an unusual emotional relationship, so DAUGHTERS will become MOMS, a perpetual motion that will always continue to create LIFE and PASSIONS.

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