Notes from mo, quarterly. On stones she's been thinking about. On letters wearers have sent. On the work of making things slowly.
There's a single moonstone hidden in most of what I make. Often you wouldn't notice it among the larger stones. But it's there — usually one bead, sometimes two, never more. I want to write about why, because I've never explained it to anyone.
She asked permission first. I'm sharing it here, with her permission, because she said something I want to remember.
Wholesale. Subscription boxes. Influencer gifting at scale. A reflection on the work of saying no.
A real Monday. 6:30am tea, stone selection, two pieces strung, six letters written, two boxes packed. Most days look the same. That's the point.
Every SENMOMO piece has a number. It isn't a serial number for inventory; it's a coordinate. Once given, it doesn't move. A note on permanence, the Cartier example, and what we owe the wearer 20 years from now.
A wearer wrote to ask why one of her rose quartz beads had a small cloud inside it, and whether it was a defect. I wrote her back to say no — the cloud was the proof.
The journal goes out four times a year — sent on the new moon closest to the equinox or solstice. Slow correspondence. You can step off the list whenever you'd like.