Hi, I’m Alexandra. Welcome to Loose Threads.
I love to cook for friends. When I’m not cooking (or working), I’m marathon training, reading (currently: The Sympathizer), traveling, stitching (stitching while traveling?), or hyperfocusing on a home project. The latter hobby enables a lot of time with my friends eBay and Chairish. Sponsor me!
That aforementioned project is my bedroom.
When I moved into my Greenpoint apartment last May, the bedroom was not of primary import. Since I love to host, the kitchen, dining, and living rooms—all connected and totaling perhaps 500 sq ft—took priority. I relished in my moodboard, became eBay’s #1 customer, and waited four months for a 98” couch from a retailer that shall not be named. It arrived with holes not once, not twice, but three times. From there, I… gave up. Both on that company and on decorating in general. Imagine trying to fit a couch that big into a NYC-sized elevator three times. Traumatizing.
One year later, the drama all but forgotten, I got the bug again.
It all started in Paris…
I came to Paris to reset. After a year that left me restless and worn thin, I needed to clear my head. Traveling on my own has always fast-tracked self-discovery, and Paris felt inevitable. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been—living, working, or just wandering—but each time, it’s where I find my footing.
Walking down Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau in Paris’ 1st arr. on a beautiful spring morning, I passed Gypel, a small frame shop with odd opening hours. I’d never noticed it before.
In the window sat a double-dove embossment from Des Dieux et Déesses, a series of tactile prints created by Pierre de Tartas and Heger de Löwenfeld inspired by the sculptural motifs of Georges Braque. Its title translates to Of Gods and Goddesses. To me, it had a lyrical quality. Like a duet.
Braque, one of the 20th century’s most celebrated French painters and sculptors, and a founder of Cubism alongside Picasso, was new to me.
I pulled up his bio right there in front of the store, and learned that he’d returned again and again to the image of a bird—a symbol of freedom, transcendence, and the fragile thread between earth and sky.
This particular gilded relief, created from his designs after his death, captures that vision in luminous gold. The form rises from the paper as if just taking flight, its inspiration rooted in Greek mythology, yet also deeply personal. For Braque (and for me), the bird embodied both the grace he admired and the movement he longed for, its shifting light a reminder that beauty can hover, weightless, between the seen and unseen.
Though my apartment was in the 3rd and the shop in the 1st, I found myself making excuses to pass by each day. I was captivated.
On background, I’m not a religious person, but I believe strongly in signs.
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved doves. My childhood bedroom was in the center of a pink house on a cul-de-sac with big oak trees hugging each side. One of those big trees homed a sweet family of mourning doves who woke the house up every morning with their gentle birdsong. Every time I hear the distinctive whoooooo whoooooooo, I smile and feel their lucky energy vibrate all around me. Although the sound might feel sad to some, to me, it’s home.
When I first got the idea for Le Fil back in December 2023, I connected with a designer through a friend to help bring the brand to life. Looking back on my emails now, I can’t help but smile (and cringe a little) at what I wrote:
He put together some early versions of the dove as the Le Fil icon, but I wasn’t totally on board. It looked too much like clip art.
From the beginning, I wanted to create a brand that had its roots in the tactile, analog, handmade world of embroidery arts but that also reflected my own style: structured yet soft, minimal yet detailed — unfolding. A sophisticated mix of masculine and feminine. Rich colors and history. Something that makes you and me feel at home - that magical place somewhere between New York and Paris.
But we hadn’t gotten there quite yet. Something was off. And the timing felt all wrong. With everything going on, I became quite certain it wasn’t the right time for me to pursue Le Fil.
So, I put the dream aside.
A week after my initial discovery on rue JJR, I traveled to Beaune, a beautiful walled town in the heart of French wine country, for my annual cooking school pilgrimage. I grabbed a Burgundy red and my favorite flower-covered goats milk cheese from Hesse, and set up camp in the hotel courtyard.
Mid-picnic, it started raining. And then I heard the familiar birdsong. The doves had traveled with me from Rhode Island (home-home) to Paris (dream home)… and now to Beaune (weekend home). Keeping me safe, filling the air with something soft and lucky, something just for me. It’s amazing to me that wherever you are in the world, you can find the familiar sounds and tastes and feelings and joys that constitute home for you. As I reflect on my life so far, these are the moments I will remember. And the ones that make it feel full. There’s also good cheese and bread for that.
They, of course, had to be mine. And then I sat on the ground and ate a pain au chocolat.
The following weekend, back in Paris, I decided to take myself on a date to Musée d'Orsay. The museum has always been a favorite, and is one I visit on most trips to Paris. I took the long route by foot, strategically passing Gypel. From there, I’d typically head south toward the Seine, cross over the Pont Royal, and eventually land at the steps of the Beaux-Arts-style museum whose big iron clock I’ve seen as a portal to Paris since my first trip in 2010.
I’d never been inside Gypel, and on this day — seeing as it was open (!) — I finally had the guts to ask if the piece was for sale… in French. I’d been practicing.
However, that might’ve all been for naught, since, on arrival, I saw that Doves had been replaced by an oil landscape — no!!! I wasn’t even sure it had ever been for sale. I stepped inside, and, in broken (read: terrible) French, asked the shopkeeper if it had sold. Explaining an ‘embossment’ in French far exceeded the limit of my fluency. He looked at me blankly. My French is good-but-not-that-good, and soon we were volleying on Google Translate.
He typed into the app and slid my phone back across the counter: the original owner wanted Doves back. I was devastated. “Sorry,” he said, not seeming sorry at all.
“Est-ce que vous pouvez faire quelque chose ?” (Is there anything you can do?), I asked, dismayed.
With a sigh, he disappeared into a back room, leaving me—along with Doves and hundreds upon hundreds of wooden frames—to get better acquainted while he called her owner. After some back-and-forth fueled by plenty of mistranslation, he returned with an offer: several (actually, many several) thousand euros in cash and she would be mine. No shipping. No paperwork. Nada.
“D’accord,” I said, “laissez-moi y réfléchir.”
I took the decision with me to D’Orsay and thought about it while staring across the room at Nymphaea. By the time I left, exiting Rue de la Légion d’Honneur, I’d made the decision. It was a no-go. Since I had no way of truly verifying its authenticity and buying in cash felt risky, I decided to pass. So, there I was, left with that blurry photo. Probably for life. Still, I discussed with friends… debating up until the day I left for home.
By the time I got back to Brooklyn, I was full of regret. I’d missed out on something special and significant, and couldn’t stop thinking about it.
A few weeks after I got back from Paris, I serendipitously met Bicoastal Stitches and we agreed to join forces under the Le Fil name and branding — now greatly improved by a designer-friend of mine (she’s a rockstar) — after a meet-cute at I Sodi and whirlwind courtship, of the business kind. Read our story here and here :)
It all happened in such crazy fashion that it’s hard to wrap my head around it all, even now.
As I sit here, looking out at the New York City skyline, I feel the most immense possible gratitude.
Merci pour tout.
A couple weeks ago, when the “bug” to redecorate bit me again, I went down a deep internet rabbit hole trying to find Doves. Luck was on my side… or maybe I was just ready when the luck happened. A Paris gallery, with an accredited website, had a rare print for sale. I didn’t even hesitate.
In this journey, there are two stories, two doves, intertwined—me and BCS, my business partner and forever friend. We hope you «Fil» it too.
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Alexandra
