"The Eri stole arrived with a card naming its weaver. It is the softest thing I own, and the indigo is alive in a way no print ever is."
Where cloth begins as a story.
In the far east of India, seven sister states cradled between the Himalaya and the Brahmaputra, the loom has never been a factory. Mist settles on the hills of Nagaland and Manipur, the great river braids its way through Assam, and in nearly every village a handloom waits in the courtyard. Here, cloth is not so much bought as inherited: spun by hand, coloured by the garden, and carried from one generation to the next. These are three of its oldest threads.




































































































































