Lovelight Bohéme Slip Dress

This dress was made to wander barefoot through hidden gardens — collecting little pieces of wonder along the way! Wear it on its own with whimsical antique jewelry and a messy updo for an effortlessly romantic look that feels plucked straight from a storybook. For extra woodland enchantment, layer it beneath the matching Opera Duster and add vintage-inspired boots or ballet flats with lace socks. We’ll be wearing ours styled for everyday with a faded jean jacket in summer and a cozy cardigan & wool tights when autumn arrives. However you wear it, this dress carries a touch of Charles van Sandwyk’s remarkable magic — soft, soulful, and meant for dreamers.

The wildling, the poet. Women who walk in moonlight and wonder, who see magic in the smallest of things: dewdrops on grass, the hush of wings. Women with stars in their eyes.

Charles van Sandwyk is a beloved, award-winning Canadian artist whose work feels like a secret doorway into a more magical world—one filled with well-dressed animals, curious fairies, and gentle forest folk. Born in South Africa and raised in Vancouver, he was the kind of child who practiced calligraphy for fun and performed magic tricks on a unicycle. His early love for antique books and golden-age illustrators still echoes through every brushstroke and pen flourish.

Charles splits his time between the lush forests of British Columbia and a quiet island in Fiji, where he creates in a thatched-roof hut with no electricity—just the sound of waves and wonder. His handmade books, like “How to See Fairies” and “The Parade to Paradise”, have become collector’s treasures, and he’s lent his enchanting touch to Folio Society editions of The Wind in the Willows and Alice in Wonderland. Our Lovelight collaboration with Charles includes an excerpt from his illustrated book-length poem “Tree Whispers”—a piece he dreamed one night and remembered word-for-word upon waking, as if the forest itself had recited it to him.

Lovelight
by Audrey Keating

…and so she begins again
her garden in darkness
and the river that once sang to her
too depleted to hear;
wispy aromas from wild violets
roses, sage and something deeper
draw her toward an opening
where field meets woods; 
she turns, takes one step
another, and enters

a half-remembered place
soft as moth wings
cool spaces
between the trees, hushed 
moss and stillness
drifts of ferns, shadowy
moist smells of growth
and whispered promises 
of flowers not yet open
there is almost light

she steps further in
her feet are bare now
toes gripping the earth
her body the curved edge
of a leaf, then a branch
a bird, starlight 
and the moon
she moves like water 
like homecoming 
like a lover requited 
luminous and bright
she is singing