As infants, we begin close to her. Palms, knees, bellies pressed against the kitchen tiles, the bedroom floor, the cool dirt of a backyard. Then slowly, we rise. Our backs straighten, then curve again, hunched over glowing screens, until “touch some grass” becomes less a joke than a quiet plea. An invitation to disconnect from the endless disconnect, if only for a moment, and remember where we came from.
The earth, for the most part, is trustworthy. That’s why brands sing hymns to it; farm-to-table menus, “all-natural” labels, organic stickers that cling like badges of honour. Fashion, too, leans on the earth’s generosity. Perfumes steeped in jasmine, oud, cedarwood, bergamot. Loro Piana’s devotion to the Capra Hircus goat, whose cashmere is second to none. LOEWE weaving orange peels, raffia, organically grown cotton into their garments. Hermès, with its devotion to leather and natural fibers, has long chosen the eternal over the synthetic.
To wear something born of the earth is to feel her arms around you again. A quiet embrace, woven in wool or stitched in cotton. Our relationship with her is perpetual, cyclical: we come from her, we return to her. We seed and sow, we reap and wear, we eat and gift. We plant flowers to adorn our homes, to console, to celebrate, to say what words sometimes fail to.
“FLOWER POWER” IS PUBLISHED IN THE 7th EDITION OF icon mena. ORDER YOUR COPY HERE.