Palm Beach slipped behind the window, sunlight flickering like gold leaf across the lacquered table.
“Where are you headed?” they asked.
“Miami,” I said. “Trade show.”
“Us too.”
The same show. The same clients.
By the time the train curved into Broward County, we’d already traced three projects in common — and discovered a shared devotion to texture, tone, and everything that makes a surface speak.
They’d heard of us — BroCoLoco — from a client who’d just unwrapped one of our Amalfi cotton panels. A small gift, a quiet gesture. Word, it seems, travels faster than trains.
Somewhere between the scent of citrus from the café car and the rhythmic sway of steel, I realized: our work isn’t only about what we make. It’s about where those creations end up — the rooms, the hands, the stories they become part of.
Miami greeted us in a soft wash of color and rain.
Designers drifted through the space, their fingertips grazing hand-tied cotton, their questions tracing humidity, open air, and sea breeze.
Next door, L’Occitane perfumed the room with lavender. We filled it with texture — woven, natural, quietly alive.
The rain lifted. The light changed.
And for a moment, everything felt in its place — tactile, human, and full of conversation. To those who paused along the way — thank you. Here’s to the road ahead.
