Most of my designs start as ideas in my head. From there, I usually make a few sketches, experimenting with shapes, lines, and how the embroidery might sit within the frame.
Las Palmas began this way too. My first stitched version didn’t feel quite right, so I reworked the design and stitched it again until it matched the vision I had in my head — quiet, grounded, and warm.
Rosa was the same, but more so.
She took four attempts. I had a clear idea of what she should look like, and the first version wasn't it. So I changed something. Then something else. The fabric. The thread colour. The stitch type. Each iteration got closer, but it wasn't until the fourth that she finally looked like Rosa rather than just a leopard.
That distinction matters more than it might sound. A leopard is a subject. Rosa is a character — and a character needs to look like herself. The earlier versions were technically fine. They just didn't have her quality. That particular self-possession that a femme fatale either has or she doesn't.
The fourth one had it.
I unpicked three leopards to get there. I'd do it again.
This process of trying, adjusting, and rethinking isn’t unusual. It’s part of what I love about slow, thoughtful hand embroidery: each stitch and detail is chosen with care. By the time a design is finished, it’s shaped not just by the original idea but by all the small adjustments made along the way. Those iterations are what give each piece its personality and intentionality.
In this case, Las Palmas is the result: soft, warm, and grounded. A subtle statement made with careful attention and hand-stitched detail.
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