The birth of a drawing is never a coincidence. It draws from where emotions take over, where memories are made for life, where colors fill you with joy.
The Birds of Paradise motif was born outdoors, during winter walks along the coast, bathed in still-gentle sunshine, caressed by an enveloping, almost shy light. Since arriving in the South at the end of winter, I've spent hours walking along the sea. From Marseille to Hyères, then on to Le Lavandou, out of season, the roads are quiet, the places breathe differently. The sun warms the afternoons without weighing them down. The light takes on pink and gold hues, and the colors are already beginning to assert themselves.
Here, bird of paradise flowers bloom very early, like bursts of light in the landscape. They announce that winter is gently retreating, that summer is just around the corner. In gardens, on roundabouts, along roadsides, they mark the way. Their presence is striking. The flowers are slender, reaching towards the sky. The petals open and close, as if in a breath. The colors are bold, saturated, but never garish: orange-red, luminous yellow, deep purple. A palette that attracts the eye and holds it.
It was in February or March, perhaps. I had stopped after Le Lavandou, in one of the few small hotels open at that time of year, near the Domaine du Rayol and its garden. The Mediterranean, which is one of my favorite places . The Hotel Les Terrasses du Bailli. A room facing the sea, facing the Île du Levant, facing the sunset. Under the blanket, I began to draw. Flowers first, their lines, their tension, their intensity. One, then several. I wanted them in clusters.
I saw it as a sign of nature's magic. There's something fascinating in the way the flower and the bird respond to each other. The same momentum. The same verticality. The same suspended elegance. It's as if one extends the other. The bird glides between the petals, its wings echoing the lines of the design, its feathers intertwining in an almost wild movement. The forms intersect, overlap, and converse.
That's when the drawing started to move, when the pattern started to come to life, under my fingers, my heart warm, cradled by this late winter tranquility.
I worked on the lines before the colors, but very quickly, they took over. Yellow, orange, red, purple, blue, green—colors chosen to coexist, to flow together, without overwhelming the drawing, but giving it momentum and breath. The colors create points of light, establish a rhythm, an energy that transcends mere form. A contained explosion, a controlled fantasy, a palpable joy.
I wanted these birds and flowers to adorn bodies as they adorn landscapes, for the motif to live with gesture, to transform with movement, never remaining static. I wanted it to come alive on a silk twill scarf. On this precious and luminous fabric, the flowers open differently, the birds take flight differently. The design breathes with the person who wears it.
The Birds of Paradise motif has become a foundational element of the house because it embodies all of this. The South. The light of late winter. Walks along the sea. The energy of abundance. The poetry of movement where flowers and birds dance together. Conceived from its inception to move, envelop, and make color vibrate on silk, this motif was born from my discovery of this South that is now my home. It was born from what makes my heart beat faster and moves me to tears. Even today. Like a nostalgia one inhabits.
Ultimately, it all boils down to this.
The Birds of Paradise envelop and warm.
And it reminds me, every time, why I'm here.
🌼 Our Birds of Paradise pattern is featured on our silk twill scarves: a 90 square , a 70 square and a 45 square , each with a different color variation.
🌴 And if you'd like to discover these incredible places that I love so much, it's this way: The Hotel Les Terrasses du Bailli and Domaine du Rayol - The Mediterranean Garden