If I could only own one fabric, I would not hesitate. Linen forgives everything — the heat, the wine, the afternoon you didn't plan. It wrinkles, yes, and that's rather the point. Linen that looks slept-in looks like a life well spent.
Sofia disagrees with me about almost everything, but not this. She owns a white linen maxi, sleeveless and long — Matilda — in a way that makes you think she invented the idea of a white dress. It's the one piece she packs for an entire coast, unhurried, breathing through the hottest part of the day. At forty-something dollars it is, quietly, the most-worn thing either of us owns.
When I want a little more structure, I go to the white linen maxi that buttons all the way down — Sylvaine — the kind of dress you reach for without deciding to and somehow always feel right in. Open the top buttons for the beach, do them up for dinner. It's a whole day in one dress.
And on the mornings that turn cool, that long-sleeve cotton blouse worked through with eyelet — Adèle — sleeves I push up the second the sun comes out. I wear it with the linen maxi, with denim, with nothing planned at all.
A year in linen isn't a wardrobe. It's a temperament. Buy less, wear it into the ground, let it crease where it likes.
— Sabine, for Forever Vogue
The fabric that forgives everything → Linen & Cotton Collection