Spell & The Gypsy Collective

I’ve heard it spoken that people liken Spell & The Gypsy Collective to that of some kind of religion.  This always intrigued me and as I write this, I delve into the mystery of how it is that a clothing label can have such a loyal following. In our world for the most part we are void of spirit and disconnected from self.  Surrounded by the unreal. The material has become part of our culture. Searching for the soulful can become an art and a quest as to find ones ‘own’ sacred.  

We crave authenticity, we crave something to connect us back to who we are. The muses for the Spell girls emanate the real, well travelled souls with depth, a life rich in experience and full of light and shade.  I imagine that many of us would trade the illusionary perfection for flawed tapestry. We are curious beings, our longing for the real, resides in our bones. Well travelled ain’t always pretty and the rarest of beauty lingers in the messy. Spell was built from humble beginnings, from a couple of down to earth passionate sisters whose creations have become part of our town.

Sometimes all we need is a muse, a word… it is found in a piece of art. My muse the woods, poetry, Massanet, Nietzsche. Subtleties that ignite my fire, stir my waters, evoke my passion. Offerings that call me back. It can be found in music composition, a person, a mountain, a place. Something that stirs you. Something that speaks your unique song. A reminder of who you really are. This is not be mistaken with finding external gratification to fill an immediate need. My lecture this morning was on Freud so in this moment I am extremely aware of the ‘the gratification principle’’ so often at play. What I am talking about is a word,  a flavour, a scent, a touch, a something that unlocks inner inspiration. 

What I speak of is not to be contrived, it is captured as a rarity. For me the essence of Spell brings back memories of my mama and my childhood in the 70’s. I am taken back to the simple ways. My ways as a child. In the past I have found myself nostalgic for the sweetness, the simplicity. Living amidst the woods immersed in nature has given me something I dearly missed when in the city. I craved quietude and connection to days gone by where things were slower, unadorned, where I had time to listen to the land and the pull of my heart.

Often the tiniest spark of what truly inspires is found in a texture or in a print. We are wary of consumerism and for good reason. There is a fine line between having things that awaken a piece of us and finding surface, instant pleasure in the external. I feel grateful for finding delight deep within and greatly appreciate the little reminders along the way x