An afternoon of ten thousand loaves of bread, grassy butter, natural wines the color of bitter orange and Meyer lemon. Lying on a blanket covering the entire garden in silk flowers, wearing matching striped tees like a scene out of Breathless, debating the whole of the universe, whether or not plants can think and be kind. Jumping up to read our horoscopes, abandoning the picnic for the ants, and heading into town, a bunch of metal bikes in pastels, mint and coral, powder blue, pale orchid, a vintage bicycle gang hell bent on riding to the disco, dancing like queens, hands clasped on the dance floor, singing full into each others’ faces, shoulders, hair.

FINAL SALE - GOING GOING GONE!