A Generous Gift
In April, a solitary week was carved out for a European sourcing trip before Met Gala and Cannes prep began. Just Stacy, Alessandra, and Monroe moving through Europe with a shared Google Doc and a loose plan: vintage stalls in Paris, deadstock in Antwerp, and, if time allowed, a few old mills in northern Italy.
In Biella, they stopped to see an old friend. Aurelio.
Stacy had met Aurelio five years ago, during a sourcing trip that became something deeper. What started as a tour of the mill turned into a two-day visit: long lunches, quiet walks through the archive room, and hours spent talking about texture, the future of fashion, and the soul of a good shirt. They’d continue to keep in touch since.
Aurelio Ferri was the head of textiles at Casa Lani, a discreet but storied mill just outside Biella, Italy. The kind of place where the cotton was still air-dried in vaulted brick rooms, and where every roll told a story. For decades, the mill had supplied fabric to ateliers in Paris and Milan. The kind of place that quietly supplied the ateliers of Lanvin, Armani, and, once upon a time, Cerruti. The legacy was understated but undeniable.
Stacy last saw Aurelio Ferri almost two years ago at a quiet dinner during a Paris trip.
Aurelio greeted them with espressos, a slower gait, and a piece of news, "I’m retiring!”
Aurelio’s mill wasn’t just any operation. For decades, it had been a hushed epicenter of quality. He had overseen every bolt himself, personally rejecting the ones that didn’t reach his standards.
As they toured what remained of the mill, Aurelio walked them through racks and racks of archival textiles on rolls, pallets, and shelves.“I kept a few things set aside over the years,” he said, his hand trailing across a bolt wrapped in brown paper. “I figured there would be a time to share them. With people who understand the artisanship.”
“These are yours,” he said, gesturing to a small rack of bolts he had already wrapped for transit. Ten in total. Three in shades of white—one luminous and crisp, one matte and dense, and one with the faintest ivory cast, like old paper. The others were limited runs: saturated slate, chalky cornflower, soft tobacco, blush with an almost pink shimmer, a single green bolt dyed with a mineral process, and two elegant pinstripes never taken to full production.
“Use them well,” he said. “Not because they’re precious, but because they were made with time.”
Later that week, the fabric was shipped quietly back to Milan with the rest of the studio’s Met shipment. Each bolt came tagged with small handwritten notes from Aurelio; weight, origin, a suggested use. Each bolt was labeled, stored, and tagged for later.
I kept Aurelio’s notes tucked in the back of his sketchbook. Not for reference, but a reminder that sometimes, the best things come from someone else’s ending… and that a legacy doesn’t have to be loud to last.
Note from our Creative Director
“We usually lean into color, especially at events like Cannes—but this fabric asked for something different. It had this crisp structure that held shape effortlessly, but it was still soft, almost cooperative. Designing with it felt more like sculpting than sewing. Each silhouette became about light, shadow, and shape. There was something deeply satisfying about creating volume out of something so light. In a moment that’s so often about excess, this fabric brought focus.”
