Imet Zardis on the plaza of the Registan in Samarkand, Uzbekistan. Stillcovered in grime and residual camel hairs from the thick felt blanketsthat had pressed us into sleep in the warm hollows of yurts during ourthirty-three day overland journey from the heart of China through themountains of Kyrgyzstan and into Uzbekistan, I dragged myself,road-wornand groggy, to the plaza in the center of town, determined to see thebrilliant turquoise domes that adorned the ancient midway of the SilkRoad.  

 

Icould see her from across the plaza—a diminutive young woman, with longblack hair carefully braided, wearing a glorious silk dress.  After amonth studying the textiles of the Silk Road I had experienced silk inevery incarnation—seen a single two-foot  long strand of the mythicfiber, sat with weavers in central China and learned their techniques,purchased bolts and bolts of brightly dyed crepes and taffetas inKyrgyz bazaars—yet I had not seen such a beautiful dress the entiretrip. Vivid plum, cerulean, and gold, it looked as though it had beenwoven all in one piece, yet it was perfectly pieced together anddetailed with silk cords at the hem and seams. Without a breath ofhesitation, I dashed across the brilliant tiled plaza and grabbed her bythe arm, explaining in muddled Russian that I wanted to know where shefound her dress.

 

Thenext day, stepping off the rickety minibus and out into the open air ofthe steppe, Zardis led me up a dirt road to the home of her extendedfamily.  Once inside (and after a warm greeting by countless auntiesand cousins, sisters and family friends enjoying a game of backgammon)the petite young woman—who, I had learned over tea the day before, wasa chemistry student in Moscow, home for the summer— showed me a roomwhose walls were lined with traditional tapestries, floors covered inhand-tied rugs, antique trunks used as low tables, and in the center ofthe room, a giant loom.  I resisted the urge to touch everything.  Thewhole place smelled of raw silk and cumin, warm bread baking andlanolin.Explaining that generations of women in her family had madeeach tapestry and rug as part of an elaborate dowry, she cleared offone of the trunks and opened it.  She pulled piles of the mostheart-stopping dresses from within,and laid them out on the floor, oneby one for me—her great grandmother's creations. I inspected each withutter awe, the craftsmanship apparent in each tiny detail. The richaroma of the musty trunks, the dim light, and the supple fabricsengulfed me in a sense of history and tradition, of women making theirwhole world with their hands.  I was completely lost in that world—thatis, until Zardis whispered "would you like to try one on…?"

 

Itwas with this vivid history in mind that we created the Silk Roadcollection.  Inspired by the ease and suppleness of Crepe de Chinesilk, we created elegant, simple silhouettes that let the fabric speakfor itself, and let your own personal style shine. With stylesinfluenced from both ends of the silk road—from Ming style sleeves toFrench couture tulip skirts—you'll be sure to find an enamoring newlove to make part of your own fashion history.