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A FEW WORDS, IF YOU NEED THEM.
Happy birthday. You know what you mean to me.
You make ordinary days better.
Older, yes. But still my favourite.
For the person who deserves the whole cake.
Another year of you. What a gift for the rest of us.
For everything you are, and a few things you don't know yet.
For the person who already has everything - except this.
From the person who still can't find the right words.
Consider this a thank you. For being born.
The wish is already on its way.
DETAILS
SIZE
8.5×5.5 cm
BACKSIDE
Blank for your message
PAPER
Uncoated paper, 300gsm
No Ribbon / Satin Ribbon / Silk Ribbon
RIBBON
MADE IN
The UK
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FREE WORLDWIDE SHIPPING ON ALL ORDERS
Orders are usually shipped within 2–3 working days, and international shipping is available.
Please note that customers may be subject to customs duties in their respective countries, which are their responsibility.
You can also pay directly via TWINT.
You’re also welcome to pick up your order directly from the studio in Meilen. Important: Please call or text ahead to arrange a pickup time. This ensures I’m at the studio and have your order prepared.
PAIRS WELL WITH
PAY WITH TWINT
The river slows at dusk. Reeds lean, then still. Somewhere upstream a coot calls once and waits for an answer that never comes.
A picnic winds down at the water's edge. Crusts left on linen. Glasses catching the last of the light. A cardigan pulled over shoulders as warmth drains from the air. Above the trees, the sky begins its old sequence: lilac into blush, blush into sage, gold pooling low where the sun went down. These are the colours we gathered for the paper spread across the table, lilac, blush, sage, gold, as if the evening had been cut into sheets and folded flat.
Centuries have watched this same hour. Before winter's dark gave way to resolutions, spring opened the calendar, and the year began not with frost but with flower. Farmers watched the hedgerows for the first blossom before they touched the soil. Fields woke before minds did. People set their years by bud rather than by the length of the dark.
Somewhere in that design sits a portrait of Anne, Princess of Orange, painted by Johan Valentin Tischbein. A hand soft in silk and lace, rising before dawn to study orange blossoms and paint them into permanence. They called her the flower among princesses. She kept petals on her windowsill overnight, so the morning light would find them first. Her brushes stood in jars of rainwater, her fingertips faintly stained with green. Look closely and you may still find a fleck of paint on her finger, left there from whatever bloom she had been studying that morning.
Fold the paper gently, then carry it onward, to a birthday, a picnic, some evening still waiting for its own soft sky.
PAY WITH TWINT
Winter arrives quietly at the old observatory. Frost creeps up the copper dome. By midnight it has dulled to silver under a hard white moon. She has kept this place for forty years, since the gears still turned smoothly and the telescope was the newest thing on the hill. For this wrapping paper we climbed up to find her there, still tending the same instruments, still watching for whatever the sky might show her next. A shooting star. A comet. A shape she hasn't charted yet. We call it "The Queen of Algorab," after the one she found and never stopped looking for.
She told us the story slowly, pausing to check a dial, to wipe frost from a lens. Every night she climbs the narrow stair, log book under one arm, and cranks the dome open to a seam of sky. The hinges complain, as they always have. Cold air pours in, carrying pine resin from the slope below.
One night, decades ago, fog swallowed every star she knew. She waited it out, sleeves pulled over her hands. Then a single gap opened directly above her. Through it, a shape she had never charted: a bird stretching its wings across the dark, one point at its edge burning steadier than the rest. An old colleague, visiting for the meteor shower, named it for her. Algorab, the crow's wing, a white star some eighty seven light years off, marking the corner of a small quadrilateral sailors once steered by. Its name comes from the Arabic for crow, older than the observatory, older than the hill itself.
She cannot see it all year. It climbs into view only as the coldest nights start to loosen their grip, low near the horizon before dawn, higher each week as the season turns. So she watches for it here, in this narrow stretch of winter, the way you might watch for one particular person in a crowd you know will thin eventually.
By morning the dome closes over a sky gone pale grey. She locks the door, leaves the key under the same stone as always, and walks down the hill. Somewhere above her, fading now, Algorab is already waiting for next winter to bring it back.
Introducing The Evergreen Tapestry wrapping paper, a beautiful blend of nature’s charm and classic artistry. Inspired by the rich history of ancient tapestries, this design brings together elements that feel both timeless and modern. Tapestries were once used to decorate castles, tell stories of historical events, and symbolise wealth and power, often commissioned by royalty and hung on the walls of grand halls.
Perfect for the fall and winter seasons, The Evergreen Tapestry lets you own a piece of this storied tradition or bring it with you to the next birthday party, turning every gift into a work of art.