Some Places Call You For Years

There are some places that stay with you long before you ever arrive.

Not because you have memories there. Not because you have visited them before. But because something inside you keeps returning to them again and again, as if a small part of your soul already knows the way.

For me, Sardinia was one of those places.

For the last few years, the thought kept appearing quietly in the background of my life. Sometimes while looking at photographs. Sometimes while designing a new collection. Sometimes while planning future adventures for our family. I never had a logical reason for it. I simply felt drawn there. Two years ago, while travelling through Italy, we visited Elba, and I remember standing by the sea thinking how different island life felt from the mainland. The water seemed clearer. The colours felt brighter. Everything looked more alive. That was probably the moment when Sardinia stopped being a distant dream and became something I knew I wanted to experience for myself.

What I didn’t know at the time was how much life would happen before we finally got there.

The Journey We Almost Didn’t Take

The reality behind a creative business is often very different from what people see online. Most people see the finished crown, the finished collection, the beautiful photograph, the happy customer. What they don’t see are the months of work behind it. They don’t see the sketches that never become products, the late nights, the custom consultations, the material sourcing, the packaging, the emails, the deadlines and the endless balancing act between creativity and responsibility. And when you are also raising a small child while running a business with your husband, every hour becomes precious.

Packing A Dream Into A Caravan

The weeks before our departure were some of the busiest weeks of the year. I was finishing customer orders, working on custom projects and, at the same time, preparing an entirely new collection for photography.

By the time we finally packed the caravan, we were carrying around fifty completely new pieces. New festival accessories. New bridal tiaras. New masquerade masks and matching crowns. Many of them had barely left my worktable before being carefully wrapped and packed for the journey. Looking back now, I think that was one of the reasons why the trip felt so emotional. I wasn’t simply transporting products. I was carrying months of ideas, months of work and months of creative energy across Europe, hoping that I would finally photograph them in the environment they deserved.

When Real Life Doesn’t Care About Your Plans  

Even the collection itself almost didn’t happen the way I imagined.

Our first photoshoot had to be cancelled because a storm arrived. The temperature dropped, the model was freezing and the atmosphere was completely wrong for what I wanted to create. At the time it felt frustrating because postponing the shoot meant even more pressure before departure. But sometimes forcing things only makes them worse. A week later we tried again, and this time everything came together exactly as it should have. The sun was shining, the light was beautiful and our model had just finished her graduation exams, so all the stress she had carried for weeks had disappeared. You could see the difference immediately. The entire collection suddenly felt lighter, freer and more alive. Looking back now, I am grateful that the first shoot failed, because the second one gave us exactly what the collection needed.

When departure day finally arrived, we were already exhausted. We were supposed to leave in the morning, but we left in the evening. Then we almost missed the ferry. There was nothing glamorous about the beginning of this trip. No perfectly curated road trip moments. No effortless travel photos. Just two working parents, a very energetic two-year-old boy, a caravan full of products and an endless list of things that still needed attention. The first day we barely made it a few hours from home before stopping for the night, but I remember feeling relieved. We were finally moving. After months of planning, uncertainty and preparation, we were finally on the road.

Sitting on the ferry felt surreal. After all the work, all the conversations about whether we should go, all the uncertainty surrounding the trip, we were suddenly crossing the sea. There was no turning back anymore. And when we finally arrived near Tavolara and saw the water for the first time, I understood exactly why Sardinia had stayed in my mind for so long.

I have travelled to many beautiful places, but this felt different. The colours almost didn’t seem real. Every shade of blue looked brighter than the last. The sea, the sky, the reflections and the horizon blended together in a way that felt almost unreal. Everyone around us had the same reaction. We just kept saying, “Wow.” There really wasn’t much else to say. That first moment wasn’t about photography or social media or business. It was simply gratitude. Gratitude that we had made it. Gratitude that we had followed the feeling. Gratitude that something I had imagined for years was suddenly standing right in front of me.

The most surprising part came later. As soon as we started photographing the collection, everything suddenly made sense.

For years I had photographed products in beautiful places. Forests. Gardens. Natural locations close to home. But standing on that beach, watching the wind move through the chains and feathers, watching the sunlight catch every detail, I realized that many of these pieces had been waiting for the sea all along. They belonged to movement. They belonged to sunlight. They belonged to freedom. Perhaps that realization taught me something about my work, but also something about myself. I have always loved the sea. I have always felt drawn to it. And perhaps that love quietly found its way into my designs long before I fully understood it.

Why I Still Create Festival Collections

This new festival collection is probably one of the most personal collections I have created in years. Not because it is the most complicated, but because it reflects where I am today. 

From Tribal Dreams To Modern Goddesses

When I first started creating festival accessories, my work was much more tribal and shamanic. It was inspired by the raw energy of festivals like Burning Man and Ozora. Over the years, my designs evolved. They became softer, more celestial, more refined and more feminine. The wildness remained, but it became more intentional. The collection we photographed in Sardinia feels like another chapter in that journey.

I wanted these pieces to feel lighter than anything I had created before. Not only visually, but physically. I wanted women to wear them for hours and almost forget they were there. I wanted movement. Hair ornaments that dance in the wind. Silver chains that catch the sunlight. Harnesses that feel beautiful without feeling heavy. Pieces that become part of the experience rather than something you constantly adjust and think about. Perhaps that reflects how my own relationship with festivals has changed over time. When I was twenty, festivals meant dancing until five in the morning. Today they represent something different. Freedom. Creativity. Fashion. Self-expression. Adventure. The opportunity to step outside everyday life and reconnect with a version of yourself that sometimes gets buried beneath responsibilities.

And perhaps that is why women continue to return to festival accessories year after year. I don’t think they are simply buying a crown, a headpiece or a harness. I think they are buying a feeling. Confidence. Excitement. Joy. Freedom. The permission to become a little more visible, a little more playful and a little more themselves. If I could choose one feeling for every woman who wears one of my designs, it would be joy. The kind of joy that makes you smile when you unexpectedly catch your reflection. The kind that reminds you who you are underneath all the responsibilities of everyday life.

This is also why custom work has become such an important part of what we do. More and more women are looking for something personal. Not just a product, but a collaboration. A piece that reflects their own story, their own vision and their own personality. I love that process because the final piece never belongs entirely to me. The customer brings her vision. I bring my experience. Together we create something neither of us could have created alone. That connection is one of the most meaningful parts of my work.

Beauty Helps Me Survive Life

People often ask me how I continue creating after all these years. The truth is that I don’t know how to do anything else. Creating is not simply my profession. It is how I process life. It is how I communicate. It is how I understand the world around me. I knew I wanted to make jewellery when I was a child. Long before I understood business, marketing or customers, I already knew that creating beautiful things felt natural to me. Some people discover their calling later in life. I was fortunate enough to discover mine very early. The challenge was never finding it. The challenge was learning how to keep following it through difficult seasons.

The reality is that being an artist today is not easy. There are moments when it feels exhausting, uncertain and overwhelming. Many talented artists quietly stop creating because the pressure becomes too much. I understand that feeling more than I wish I did. But every time I imagine doing something else, I arrive at the same conclusion. I can’t. Not because I lack other options, but because creating has become part of who I am. Beauty helps me survive life. It always has.

When I look back on this trip years from now, I probably won’t remember every photograph we took or every product we packed. What I will remember is standing by the sea after months of uncertainty and feeling grateful that we came. I will remember Vincent running across the beach. I will remember pushing a wagon full of crowns through the sand. I will remember the sunset. I will remember those impossible shades of blue. And I will remember that some places call you for years for a reason.

Not because they change your life overnight.

But because they remind you who you have been all along.

And sometimes, that reminder is exactly what you needed.

The collection photographed on the shores of Sardinia and created for women who believe that freedom, beauty and self-expression belong together.