Hemp Jacket

Lately, my designer has been spending all her time in an old botanical dyeing workshop —

a place as old as her age, with a long history of crafting high-end export fabrics.

Among the treasures it holds is this piece.

The moment she touched it, her heart started pounding.

For anyone who works with fabrics, it’s hard not to fall under its spell.

It’s made from pure hemp, thick and weighty,

soaked in unmixed persimmon lacquer dye, then left to sun-dry naturally for over a year.

The factory director told her,

“You can’t store this fabric away. It must stay under the sun —

the longer it’s exposed, the richer it becomes,

the deeper and redder the color turns.”

The traces left by time are profoundly moving.
She took a few of these garments away from the sunlight — back to us.

The director said,

“Even if you place an order, I can’t make another like this —

unless you’re willing to wait a whole year for it to mature under the sun.”

Freshly dyed, the color starts pale,

then deepens gradually after a few days of sunlight.

In an age that values speed and instant results,

who still makes clothes like this?

The silhouette is relaxed and forgiving — I absolutely love it.

It’s the kind of garment that moves even the people who make garments for a living.

There aren’t many like this left.

The texture and feel are remarkable —

the natural tannins in the persimmon lacquer give the fabric

a uniquely tactile surface,

somewhere between Xiangyun silk and leather.

When it rains, the pieces are brought inside; when the sun returns, they’re hung back out —

over and over again for a year.

Through time and sunlight,

the original hemp color slowly turns into a deep reddish brown,

and the texture gains a life of its own.