«V I A T R O P I C S T O O N E S E L F»
S P R I N G – S U M M E R 2 0 1 9
The wooden house in the forest glade, its windows facing the West, is used to see the sunsets off. At the forest edge, there are two benches and the campfire. The aspen trees are surrounding the meadow, the silent guards at the forest’s gate.
This used to be my swing. I used to ride it every day, off the ground and up to the air, with my heart skipping, following the sun that was twinkling among the trunks. That was the lovely, caring forest sun, enchanting my world with its gentle glow.
Since then, the apple trees have stretched their lush crowns out far, the shadows of their leaves have grown deeper, the wood has stepped forward and now it has almost got ahold of the whole clearing. I am back to my land of childhood – to drink the silence as if it were spring water – the land where the climbing plants are left alone to reach their heights. The grass under my bare feet is cool, the morning is pure, lucid and peaceful. I am home.
At times, the jets are zooming above my head, I can hear the distant sound of the trains passing by and the noise of the highway. The voice of adventure is heard through the wind, the envoy of the unknown, is calling my name… Still, I remain indifferent. Hundreds of flying miles are now left behind, I used to outrun the sunrise, I saw deserted valleys and olive groves, heard the roar of the seas, cold and warm ones, and watched the southern night following the white night.
Sometimes I feel my wings getting spread, and from then on there is no way back – I am off to meet the faraway. There is the sun for me to follow, there is a dream I am going after: the temptation of the purple fields and exotic landscapes, the amazing lagoons and the ocean-blue depth.
Here is my journey book, it is full of wonders I have witnessed. But now the beautiful views are going blurred, a patchwork of colored rags, and the chattering of voices saying words in other people’s languages are transformed into ongoing buzz.
When I start my journey, I can’t think of what I seek for, nor do I know what I will meet along the way. When I am back, I have no doubt about what I was supposed to find.
Here is the abode of the ancient ages, the towns of the civilizations that are gone, the heritage of the cultures that are now history. The dizzying heights, the overwhelming mountain air and the lost city of the Inca. The silence reigns around, in the sanctuary of the Sun and its sons, while I am standing there impressed by its genuine majesty. The condor’s realm, the cradle of clouds. The time seems to have stopped its pace. The thoughts withdraw like shadows honoring the Aurore goddess, and I feel free, light-hearted, blessed. Harmony follows. I am speechless at the beauty and the perfect shape of the terraces, the power of the stone works, the view of the saline lands that are shining in the sun, the vast mountain lake that swings the stars on its waves while the floating islands covered by cane step forward from nowhere. A tiny local village is the place where the rainbow is born, they say. The smell of cinnamon and anise, those bright colors-scarlet and green-of the local people’s national clothes, the teddy llamas – they are all shrouding me with their natural zest for life.
‘Welcome home’, said the smile-shaped young moon.
That said, the prior recollections vanished and let the Present in. I felt as if I had dropped the thread of the Past, with so many ties on it, and captured the thread of the cello melody that makes its way across the fuss of the big cities. The pieces got together to form the sparkling yarn.
I am going to use it for knitting my Future.
It seems as though it had been at dusk, as if I had been short-sighted when I used to choose directions for myself – a prisoner of the gloomy dead ends where I used to loose the thread of light. And so it seems that in my mind the delights were mistaken for happiness, the faraway – for the right way.
I’ve brought in the cornflower – blue skies and sheer cliffs, the fogs and lukewarm winds. I’ve walked around my possessions, I’ve got beyond my boundaries. I am no longer thrilled at the splendours of vanity, I’ve learnt to see perfection in simplicity.
The climbing rose is making its way along the pergola, the scent across my garden being so rich. A snail is now sunbathing on a rock, its home is always on its back. I feel free to resist temptations, my inner self is calm and set in tune with my reason. The 30th Sunday of the year. I am back home.
K. Slovnik for Forest Glade
The Introspection, the SS19 collection by Forest Glade, is inspired by travelling challenges-a long journey across Latin America, a journey meant to be a philosophical exploration as well, a discovery for one. That’s the idea expressed in the title assigned for the collection. The thirty-five pieces provide a chance to try on a variety of looks, make up some balanced sets and find something specialthe perfect image one’s true self could get in tune with. For this sake, an attempt was made to get deep into the traditions, the habits and the values shared by the ancient Indians – the Maya people, the Inca civilization, their descendants and Creole, as a way to understand their view of the world.
An ambassador of individuality, Forest Glade operates under the slogan “The outside reflects the inside”. Within the new collection, the key role is reserved for the search in its broad sense: further destinations, new horizons and a symbolic comeback home-to one’s inner self. The fairest corners of Latin America that lie between the Tropic of Cancer and the Tropic of Capricorn – lagoons, volcanoes, canyons, the Atacama Desert, the vivid illustrations of the Colonial architecture – Cuernavaca, Mérida and the patchwork of Campeche, the Caribbean Islands with their paradise beaches and the majestic Río de la Plata are becoming characters of a thrilling adventure anybody can join without having to leave their houses. No magic is needed to watch the magnificent Andes rising high, as part of the scenery, along with those breath-taking age-old cities, the restless turquoise silk of the waves and the beckoning arms of the selva.
The Introspection alludes to some places that comprise the treasures of the region. These are villages, cities and natural landscapes. A brief overview of the pre-Columbian mythology is offered and a rendezvous with the endemic Latin phenomena is appointed. It is where the ravishing aroma of Chocoatl and Yerba Mate reigns and the balmy Spanish words are composing a sweet melody. Now, the puzzle is solved, and the renewal is declared. Enjoy the ethnic rhythms, the bright colors, the smooth silhouettes, the glittering decoration and the catchy elements. Forest Glade gets the ride of the fashion wave and echoes the trends the coming spring proclaims.
The Introspection suggests focusing our attention on pleated knitwear, craft work and the vintage technique – crochet, bouffant sleeves and fisherman weaves. The new collection lets the temptation in, with polished leather, this time represented in the form of its ethical ‘eco’ alternative. The major attraction the collection includes is the ticket for a transatlantic flight for one to take off and get prepared for new impressions and delights, to breathe in and find harmony and inner peace.