But perhaps the bigger lesson is: not everyone will recognise the treasure. Today gave me the most extraordinary little reminder about value. This jacket started life as a vintage denim jacket I found in London. The beautiful herons, palms and flowers came from another vintage garment — an extraordinary printed panel I fell in love with. I cut, composed and stitched the two together, adding vintage embroidered detailing at the collar, and gave both pieces another chapter. Hours of work. Years of textile knowledge. Two discarded garments. One completely unique jacket that can never be made in exactly the same way again. I recently decided to experiment with putting a few of my customised pieces into independent shops around Somerset rather than keeping everything hidden in my workroom, yet to put them online. One shop chose this jacket from several I showed them. I even reduced it from £125 to £75 as a trial for the local market. When I popped in today, however, I eventually found it tucked at the back amongst a rail where many pieces were around £8–£12. There was nothing to tell its story. Nothing to explain why it was different. And when I gently suggested that perhaps it needed presenting differently if it was going to find its person, the exchange left me feeling strangely diminished. So I did something important. I took it back. Not in anger. Simply because I’ve reached a point in my life and work where I don’t want to put something I value into a space where its value isn’t understood. And then came the magic. Later that day I found myself in Burnham-on-Sea, the little seaside town where I grew up. I wandered into a clothes shop I hadn’t planned to visit and started chatting to two wonderful women. Within minutes we discovered extraordinary connections — London, Somerset, Glastonbury and even Butleigh, where I’m holding my next workshop - customising denim jackets for Sustainable Fashion Week on the 1st of October. I told them what had happened earlier.