Look A
Shirt collar out over the crew, tote for the flask and the notebook.
Three frames from the spring shoot, pinned the way they sat on the atelier corkboard for a fortnight: the linen shirt underneath, the clay overshirt over it, and a page torn from our linen notes tucked into the corner.
One small wardrobe, three days of the week. We counted the pieces and added up the receipts, so the maths is done before you reach the mirror.
Look A
Shirt collar out over the crew, tote for the flask and the notebook.
Look B
Belt tied, never buckled. Sleeves to the elbow by eleven.
Look C
The throw goes over the shoulders at the bench, not a step before.
Four pages worth keeping. No pictures this time; the words managed fine on their own.
Every entryWhy the atelier closes at two on the fourth day of the week, and what gets made in the quiet after.
Seven days, one overshirt, and a notebook of what it did in the rain.
A darned elbow is a receipt for the years. Our repair bench, explained in four stitches.
The case for buying the coat once, and the arithmetic of a camel wool coat over eleven winters.
We shoot on film because it slows us down, and slow is the only speed at which a coat gets cut properly — once, by hand, in a Lisbon atelier, by someone who may pass it on the street next winter and recognise their own stitches on a stranger.From the atelier notebook, Lisbon