When a garment feels rare for the right reasons.

[christianGV]

I’ve been thinking a lot about why some clothes feel special — not because they’re expensive or scarce, but because of what went into them.

The best pieces I’ve owned weren’t mass-produced. They were made in small numbers, often by hand, using materials that almost demand patience. You can feel it in the way the fabric moves, the way it ages, even in the way it’s stitched together.

I’m starting to believe that limited production isn’t just a marketing tool — it’s a mindset. When something’s made in small quantities, it forces a kind of honesty: every detail matters, every imperfection shows.

Maybe it’s just me, but I’d rather have one piece that carries that kind of intent than ten that don’t.

Curious — do you all feel the same? Do you think “limited” still means anything today, or has it become just another buzzword?

 

[tigerrouge]

I'll leave it to AI to come up with the answers to the questions AI is asking.

 

[runner]

for me, things like this second element barthes called punctum might be stronger.

"This second element which will disturb the studium I shall therefore call punctum; for punctum is also: sting, speck, cut, little hole -and also a cast of the dice. A photograph's punctum is that accident which pricks me (but also bruises me, is poignant to me)."