Where it Began
In a small Romanian village called Ocna de Fier, I spent my childhood surrounded by forest paths, rustling trees, and the quiet rhythm of making things by hand. I was five, already threading yarn into tiny clothes for my dolls—always creating, always imagining.
Threads of Her Hands
Raised by my grandmother, I learned early that beauty didn’t require newness. She taught me to unravel old sweaters and turn them into something alive again. Her hands shaped not just my first stitches, but the way I see the world: nothing wasted, everything meaningful.
Cami's Childhood Village
Ocna de Fier, with its mineral-rich hills and centuries-old craft traditions, gave me more than a childhood—it gave me a soul anchored in heritage. It’s a place where resourcefulness is art, and every thread tells a story.
