Isabella.

There was half a year when Isabella had no studio and recorded out in the open. Every night she'd bike out to the Waasland polders, plant her microphones among the reeds and wait for hours: water, insects, the odd distant train, wind, and barn owls hunting, which she'd hear long before she saw them. In the damp cold of the long nights, pulling up the hood of her sweatshirt was what let her stay still and keep listening. That kind of warmth, for the dead hours in the dark, is exactly what this garment is for.

Those recordings brought her first commission, and the commission brought the money to set up Nachtwerk, her own studio beside a canal in Ghent. But the habit of the nights stuck: she still works in the dark, with the room kept cold and something soft on top. At her neck hangs the ginkgo her mother gave her at fifteen, matte and quiet, one of those things that last the years without drawing attention. A sweatshirt like this, comfortable and unshowy, is very much her way of being in the world: warm on the inside, discreet on the outside.