WRAPPING PAPER "SPRING COCKTAIL"

CHF 30.00

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

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.

Worth Knowing

Before wrapping, mist your favourite spring scent into the air just above the sheet. Let it settle. Never straight onto the paper. Given a moment, the paper holds onto that scent longer than you would expect. It becomes the last layer, rounding off a gift already made for the eyes and the hands.

THE SPRING COCKTAIL RECIPE

A drink to go alongside the wrapping - light, floral, and best enjoyed outside.

Makes 1 glass

Alcoholic version
60 ml gin
20 ml St-Germain elderflower liqueur
20 ml fresh pink grapefruit juice
A splash of dry prosecco to top
Ice and a small sprig of fresh lilac or mint to garnish

Combine the gin, elderflower liqueur, and grapefruit juice in a glass over ice. Stir gently, top with prosecco, and finish with the garnish.

Non-alcoholic version
60 ml white grape juice
20 ml elderflower cordial
20 ml fresh pink grapefruit juice
A splash of sparkling water to top
Ice and a small sprig of fresh lilac or mint to garnish

Combine the grape juice, elderflower cordial, and grapefruit juice in a glass over ice. Stir gently, top with sparkling water, and finish with the garnish.

DETAILS

SET

3 rolled sheets


A1 594 x 841 mm

A2 420 × 594 mm

A3 297 × 420 mm

SIZE


PAPER

100 g/m², uncoated offset


FINISH

Matte


PRINTED IN

Germany


GREETING CARD "HELLO"
CHF 7.00

PAY WITH TWINT

When we started looking for a way into this card, we kept coming back to the word hello. It is younger than you might expect. Only about 150 years old, invented for the telephone, a practical solution for a new and awkward device. Nobody knew what to say, so someone decided. Hello.

What interests us is how much it can carry. The hello shouted across a car park. The one that arrives after years of silence. The one said quietly to a new colleague on their first morning, before anything between you exists yet. One word, doing completely different work each time.

A hello doesn't need to be glamorous. Cleopatra ate pickled cucumbers daily, convinced they were the source of her beauty and her strength. Not roses, not gold, not anything particularly glamorous. A cucumber. It is simply the most unlikely thing to put on a greeting card. Nobody chose it for beauty or symbolism. It is just ... there. A bit awkward. A bit odd. Completely unbothered about being on a greeting card.

Not only did she love pickled cucumbers, we like to think she had dogs too.

There is an old belief that the souls closest to us find each other again. Not always as humans. Sometimes as something else entirely. These two knew each other once, in another life, as something other than a spaniel and a hound. And that one ordinary day, on an ordinary walk, they turned a corner and there the other one was.

Just: hello.

PAIRS WELL WITH

GIFT TAGS
from CHF 10.00

PAY WITH TWINT

For most of human history, birthdays belonged only to kings and saints. Ordinary people were born, grew older, and said nothing particular about it. Most didn't even know their exact date. It wasn't recorded, wasn't kept. It wasn't until the industrial revolution that birth dates began to be written down for everyone. And once written down, they could be celebrated.

The candles came much earlier. In ancient Greece, people brought honey cakes to the temple of Artemis, goddess of the moon, the hunt, and of childbirth itself. The cakes were called amphiphon, meaning shining on both sides. Round like the moon, with candles placed all around the edge. It was not just a wish. It was a thank you. For the birth itself.

We kept the candles. We kept the wishes. We added the gifts. And somewhere along the way, we added the gift tag.

It is the last thing you do. The gift is chosen, wrapped, ribboned. And then you sit down with a small piece of paper and a pen and try to find the right words. Not many. There is no space for many. Just enough to say what you mean, in the handwriting that the other person will recognise before they have even read it.

It arrives first. Before the gift itself. The smallest part of the whole gesture. Written last, read first.

POSTCARD MIXED SET
CHF 20.00

Five postcards, endless possibilities. Send a spontaneous hello, a note of gratitude, or a small surprise — no occasion required. Each card adds a touch of charm and joy, whether mailed or tucked into a wrapped gift.

Select a single design to receive 5 identical cards, or enjoy variety with the Mixed Summer or Mixed Winter sets.

Details
– Set of 5 postcards
– A6 size
– Printed in full colour on premium paper, 400gsm
– Uncoated finish with a soft, tactile texture
– Blank on the reverse
– Made in the UK
– FSC® certified, recyclable, sustainably sourced, and chlorine-free