I set out with ideas about Parisian Art Noveau, but then I got distracted by a spray of bridal lace, and this little book of love remade itself. Here it is, in trembling suede with a fragile edge, a memory of a curving spray of leaves, and a chain that connects us to an emblem of love.
So I set out again looking for my effortless Parisian grace, only this time looking for a more theatrical line and curve, with a dash of French poetry of love tucked inside to remake a little book as this.
Now I'm at a fork in the road, because should I go all Folies Bergère with crimson reds? or should I sink into the delicate softness of beiges, whites, soft creams and extra lace? Decisions, decisions.
The biggest butterfly I can catch, snatched and threaded with bead to the cover; inside silky net, felt, organza and lace; torn paper edge; envelopes, folds and tucks for special words; fastening by internal ribbon; the back inside cover stitched with fragile amate paper: to say, Your Special Day.