My dream

I recently dreamt that Christoph and I decided to move away from our busy city lives and start a cashmere goat farm. It was like reading a very exciting article in Vogue. Christoph and I were rosy cheeked and lean from our labors with cute farm kittens and chicks were running at our feet and (human and goat) kids in our arms. We'd eat our meals, hello goat cheese!, in the farmhouse at the big wooden table. From the house, we could see our goats, swaddled to keep their hair clean, gamboling in the fields. The fibers would be harvested, spun into yarns, and dyed with herbs from the garden. Then in our surprisingly high tech work room, cardigans would be whipped up on our Stoll machines (These machines are basically knit printers. You input your design, and a sweater prints out. Amazing!) These cardigan were available at Barneys and Takashimaya. And then, we'd make sure the goats were butchered halal and their hides were turned into gloves, available at Dover Street Market. It would be this magical slow food/fashion existence.