She slips it on between the glow of lanterns and the hum of laughter. The air smells of salt and sugarcane. It’s Friday night in Pointe-à-Pitre. Or maybe it’s a memory you never quite lived, pulsing softly in your chest. Night Market in Guadeloupe shimmers like moonlight caught in motion, a patchwork of deep indigo and washed coral, the color of dusk pressing its cheek to the sea.
A coat for those who linger where stories gather, beneath string lights, beside food stalls, where steel drums echo through the night. The fabric, quilted from repurposed island linens and an inky black quilt, carries the faint ghosts of floral prints and hand-stitched borders, now softened by time and reimagined in a rhythm of light and shadow.
The pockets (there are always pockets) are wide and ready: for market finds, maps to the best beach on the island, or a seashell smooth as a wish. Cause let’s be honest, whether it’s a quick trip to the grocery store, or the boarding stairs of a plane on an island runway, we can never have big enough pockets.
One size, meant to drape and dance. And so soft. Generous and grounding all at once, like the bass line beneath a slow zouk song. Machine washable, hand-finished, stitched with the hush of midnight rain. Made from reclaimed textiles—sustainable, singular, a love letter to the fleeting and the found.
A coat for night wanderers, dream collectors, and anyone who knows that magic hums loudest just after dark. There’s enough reclaimed fabric for one more. Maybe yours.
