You, me and the sea

Resortwear made for the hours between a swim and a long lunch. Hand-loomed linen, clay dyes, nothing that needs ironing.

We cut for the wet-haired hour, not the runway.

Toi, Moi et la Mer began with one length of cloth off a Gianyar loom and a question — what do you actually wear between the pool and the table? Everything since has answered it: wrap it, tie it, throw it on damp, leave it creased.

Nineteen pieces, dyed with clay and madder, sewn by nine people we know by name. No season after this one — when a run sells out, the loom moves on.

Covered, and still cool at four o’clock.

Modest resortwear in one undyed slub cotton: a floor-length duster, a high-neck shell, wide trousers and a voile hijab. Loose where it matters, opaque in full sun, and light enough for the walk from the villa to the pool.

Four villages, nine pairs of hands.

Warp wound in Gianyar. Clay ground and vatted in Singaraja. Raffia crocheted in Sidemen. Everything cut and finished in a two-room studio in Canggu, a ten-minute ride from the water it was made for.