Swinging, weightless, beading with lights from the stage, somehow the air is softer out here in this field, heaped with wildflowers, peak summer, peak feelings, peak skin against skin. We dance in slow motion, loopy, joyful, the buds of something new spinning out between us. Golden threads bloom from out fingertips, connecting us to each other, the crowd, the band, the moths and night birds swooping above. In endless ruffles of soft cotton florals, we can’t tell where one ends and the other begins, hands clasped, clapping, waving overhead.

Handmade in the USA