There once was a small fabric length of such beauty though compared to its brethren, it was small ‚ too small,  it was told by others, to become something‚ yet, of heart and thought it was with credence ipso facto this fabric rose bound its ends in cloth and wrapped itself around the neck of people gently suffocating them till the soft warmth took their untimely last breath thus marked the mid half of 2003 this skarf of rebellion and dissidence inspired a new generation of  guerrilla throat protection and over the years many skarves in its image have been made from silks through to wools and velvets, in a kaleidoscope of colours and lengths

though it was a wintry afternoon in the black depths of Icelandic winter 2006 that saw the renaissance, and new form of the skarf from a reflection on the long black days of the years end it was reborn, a regeneration for the ice hard snow fields of Reykjavik proper

It was once a sheep, lost in the awkward grassed hills that cover Iceland, that gave its coat for yours.  These sheep*, genetically unique to Iceland, are annually tracked down on foot, herded in by the children of the men and women of the country, and shorn.  The wool is carded, spun and knitted in here to our design.