About
The clothes of the unobserved hour.
loozat makes robes for the hour nobody sees. That is the whole brief. A woman closes a door, and what she puts on next answers to nothing outside the room.
The almond settles everything else. A hard shell, a tender inside, and a range of colour that was already there: the milk, the nut, the leaf, the pit. The box follows it. The site follows it. The cloth follows it.
The house is in Casablanca. The silk is charmeuse at twenty-two momme, cut in three lengths from one pattern. We add slowly. Nothing joins the collection unless it passes the same test: would you still want it if nobody ever saw it?
There is no scene set around any of this. We photograph the garment on its own. We photograph the room. The rest of the picture is not our business.
