A few months after I gave birth to my son I found myself trying to remember who I was.
I was a mother, an ex-journalist, a communication professional.
I was a woman who loved books, Paris, Sienna, Florence, chocolate, coffee, luxury, silk, expensive-rare possessions, old furniture, Fragonard.
I was a woman who loved the cosy intimacy of our home, the morning complicities I shared with my beloved one, his soft, flattering touch before leaving our bed, the warmth of our sheets, the Saturday and Sunday leisure, the Christmas tree.
But I was also a woman who loved accomplishments.
I needed to create something meaningful starting from the things I loved most.
My greatest passion of all was silk so I started working around it.
Silk surrounded me: it was in the clothes I wore, in the linjerie that spoiled my body, in the sheets that cuddled me at night, in my countless boxes of precious fabrics gathered from around the world.
The idea didn’t occur to me until the baptism ceremony of my son. I was wearing this fabulous yellow dress with ballerina skirts and dangerous cleavage and I wished I had a silk clutch purse to match the beautiful extravaganza of it.
I worked on my first clutch for months, ruined meters upon meters of gorgeous silk, experienced tear border rage, disappointment and finally triumph.
My first clutch/minaudiere was made of deep purple silk, the colour of sin and ripped cherries.
Others followed, just as passionate as the first one.
My Kingdom of Silk was on the verge of appearing. When I saw it clearly, I called it SILKDOM.
It started with silk and passion, it started with me and my grandmother, Maria Bagoli.