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autumn winter collection 2013

ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

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Page 1: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

autumn wintercollection 2013

Page 2: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013
Page 3: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

The foliage a prism, projecting its colours on to the ground, on to her skin. She breathes slowly, shutting the noises out.

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She could feel someone watching. Goosebumps creep up her arms. There is a densification of the autumn air and the grass is coated in a fresh, velvet dew. Turning around, she is facing her voyeur, the headless marble statue, once covered in colour, now the ivy riddled ruins’ pale guardian. The adjacent buildings witness her in silence as she moves towards the statue.

- I feel sorry for you, missing your head, she whispers, carefully resting her cheek against the statue’s marble hip. But I do envy your curves. I wish they were mine. Or I wish I could wish they were mine. I bet you had so many children.

Grabbing the plinth, she climbs up behind the naked woman and embraces her. The jagged edges of the neck scratch her cheek. The boundaries between the eternal stone and her flesh suddenly cease to exist. - Baby! Baby, come here and take a picture of us!

He doesn’t react; too busy tinkering with his camera. Even from a distance, she recognises the body language.

- Jesus Christ, what are you doing? He quickly glances around but they are alone. Get down from there!

- Why? Just take my picture!

- This place is hundred of years old - and you’re climbing all over it! That’s really disrespectful.

- I wasn’t, I just…

His lecture continues as they walk back to the train station. There is no memory of her and the statue and their momentary symbiosis. She looks over her shoulder. Her headless friend seems transparent under the pine trees, disappearing from her sight. Her mind drifts as he continues about the significance of the ruins. They are waiting for the train and she tries to ignore his looking through the pictures he took of himself.

Page 18: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

She could feel someone watching. Goosebumps creep up her arms. There is a densification of the autumn air and the grass is coated in a fresh, velvet dew. Turning around, she is facing her voyeur, the headless marble statue, once covered in colour, now the ivy riddled ruins’ pale guardian. The adjacent buildings witness her in silence as she moves towards the statue.

- I feel sorry for you, missing your head, she whispers, carefully resting her cheek against the statue’s marble hip. But I do envy your curves. I wish they were mine. Or I wish I could wish they were mine. I bet you had so many children.

Page 19: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

Grabbing the plinth, she climbs up behind the naked woman and embraces her. The jagged edges of the neck scratch her cheek. The boundaries between the eternal stone and her flesh suddenly cease to exist. - Baby! Baby, come here and take a picture of us!

He doesn’t react; too busy tinkering with his camera. Even from a distance, she recognises the body language.

- Jesus Christ, what are you doing? He quickly glances around but they are alone. Get down from there!

- Why? Just take my picture!

- This place is hundred of years old - and you’re climbing all over it! That’s really disrespectful.

- I wasn’t, I just…

His lecture continues as they walk back to the train station. There is no memory of her and the statue and their momentary symbiosis. She looks over her shoulder. Her headless friend seems transparent under the pine trees, disappearing from her sight. Her mind drifts as he continues about the significance of the ruins. They are waiting for the train and she tries to ignore his looking through the pictures he took of himself.

Page 20: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

Grabbing the plinth, she climbs up behind the naked woman and embraces her. The jagged edges of the neck scratch her cheek. The boundaries between the eternal stone and her flesh suddenly cease to exist. - Baby! Baby, come here and take a picture of us!

He doesn’t react; too busy tinkering with his camera. Even from a distance, she recognises the body language.

- Jesus Christ, what are you doing? He quickly glances around but they are alone. Get down from there!

- Why? Just take my picture!

- This place is hundred of years old - and you’re climbing all over it! That’s really disrespectful.

- I wasn’t, I just…

She could feel someone watching. Goosebumps creep up her arms. There is a densification of the autumn air and the grass is coated in a fresh, velvet dew. Turning around, she is facing her voyeur, the headless marble statue, once covered in colour, now the ivy riddled ruins’ pale guardian. The adjacent buildings witness her in silence as she moves towards the statue.

- I feel sorry for you, missing your head, she whispers, carefully resting her cheek against the statue’s marble hip. But I do envy your curves. I wish they were mine. Or I wish I could wish they were mine. I bet you had so many children.

Page 21: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

His lecture continues as they walk back to the train station. There is no memory of her and the statue and their momentary symbiosis. She looks over her shoulder. Her headless friend seems transparent under the pine trees, disappearing from her sight. Her mind drifts as he continues about the significance of the ruins. They are waiting for the train and she tries to ignore his looking through the pictures he took of himself.

Page 22: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

His lecture continues as they walk back to the train station. There is no memory of her and the statue and their momentary symbiosis. She looks over her shoulder. Her headless friend seems transparent under the pine trees, disappearing from her sight. Her mind drifts as he continues about the significance of the ruins. They are waiting for the train and she tries to ignore his looking through the pictures he took of himself.

Grabbing the plinth, she climbs up behind the naked woman and embraces her. The jagged edges of the neck scratch her cheek. The boundaries between the eternal stone and her flesh suddenly cease to exist. - Baby! Baby, come here and take a picture of us!

He doesn’t react; too busy tinkering with his camera. Even from a distance, she recognises the body language.

- Jesus Christ, what are you doing? He quickly glances around but they are alone. Get down from there!

- Why? Just take my picture!

- This place is hundred of years old - and you’re climbing all over it! That’s really disrespectful.

- I wasn’t, I just…

She could feel someone watching. Goosebumps creep up her arms. There is a densification of the autumn air and the grass is coated in a fresh, velvet dew. Turning around, she is facing her voyeur, the headless marble statue, once covered in colour, now the ivy riddled ruins’ pale guardian. The adjacent buildings witness her in silence as she moves towards the statue.

- I feel sorry for you, missing your head, she whispers, carefully resting her cheek against the statue’s marble hip. But I do envy your curves. I wish they were mine. Or I wish I could wish they were mine. I bet you had so many children.

Page 23: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013
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-You know you shouldn’t drink cappuccinos after breakfast?

- Why?

- That’s not how they drink it here.

- Yes, I know that but it doesn’t mean I can’t.

- It’s just not how they do it.

She takes a sip. Brown sugar sticks on her lips, the taste of coffee blended with milk swirls around her mouth. She tilts the cup and dips the tip of her tongue into the remaining froth, a little pink animal, blackened with tar. The restaurant is almost invisible from the street, a modest door and a handwritten menu on a chalkboard. Fiori di Zucca. Fried zucchini flowers. The name that makes her smile. She leans back, admiring the pictures on the opposite wall. Outside the window, the street is breathing heavily. Breathing in and out, in and out, in and out. Breathing in tourists, breathing out Romans. A constant exchange of thoughts, of smells, of pulsating hearts.

- So what in the Italian culture says you shouldn’t drink coffee with milk after breakfast?

- What? Are you saying they’re wrong?

- No, I’m just curious. I always thought it was because strong coffee is supposed to help digestion.

- It’s not scientific. It’s tradition.

- What part of what I just said excluded tradition?

He opens his mouth to answer but is disturbed by an older man turning towards them from the large table that gives guests who are dining alone an opportunity to meet new people. He smiles at her.

- Scusi. If you don’t mind, to answer your...debate, you are right, Miss. In Italy, we drink espresso because it helps digestion. But I’m like you, I still prefer a cappuccino.

- Ha! She turns to look at him‚ I was right!

- It’s not a competition!

Page 28: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

-You know you shouldn’t drink cappuccinos after breakfast?

- Why?

- That’s not how they drink it here.

- Yes, I know that but it doesn’t mean I can’t.

- It’s just not how they do it.

Page 29: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

She takes a sip. Brown sugar sticks on her lips, the taste of coffee blended with milk swirls around her mouth. She tilts the cup and dips the tip of her tongue into the remaining froth, a little pink animal, blackened with tar. The restaurant is almost invisible from the street, a modest door and a handwritten menu on a chalkboard. Fiori di Zucca. Fried zucchini flowers. The name that makes her smile. She leans back, admiring the pictures on the opposite wall. Outside the window, the street is breathing heavily. Breathing in and out, in and out, in and out. Breathing in tourists, breathing out Romans. A constant exchange of thoughts, of smells, of pulsating hearts.

- So what in the Italian culture says you shouldn’t drink coffee with milk after breakfast?

- What? Are you saying they’re wrong?

- No, I’m just curious. I always thought it was because strong coffee is supposed to help digestion.

- It’s not scientific. It’s tradition.

- What part of what I just said excluded tradition?

He opens his mouth to answer but is disturbed by an older man turning towards them from the large table that gives guests who are dining alone an opportunity to meet new people. He smiles at her.

- Scusi. If you don’t mind, to answer your...debate, you are right, Miss. In Italy, we drink espresso because it helps digestion. But I’m like you, I still prefer a cappuccino.

- Ha! She turns to look at him‚ I was right!

- It’s not a competition!

Page 30: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

She takes a sip. Brown sugar sticks on her lips, the taste of coffee blended with milk swirls around her mouth. She tilts the cup and dips the tip of her tongue into the remaining froth, a little pink animal, blackened with tar. The restaurant is almost invisible from the street, a modest door and a handwritten menu on a chalkboard. Fiori di Zucca. Fried zucchini flowers. The name that makes her smile. She leans back, admiring the pictures on the opposite wall. Outside the window, the street is breathing heavily. Breathing in and out, in and out, in and out. Breathing in tourists, breathing out Romans. A constant exchange of thoughts, of smells, of pulsating hearts.

-You know you shouldn’t drink cappuccinos after breakfast?

- Why?

- That’s not how they drink it here.

- Yes, I know that but it doesn’t mean I can’t.

- It’s just not how they do it.

Page 31: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

- So what in the Italian culture says you shouldn’t drink coffee with milk after breakfast?

- What? Are you saying they’re wrong?

- No, I’m just curious. I always thought it was because strong coffee is supposed to help digestion.

- It’s not scientific. It’s tradition.

- What part of what I just said excluded tradition?

He opens his mouth to answer but is disturbed by an older man turning towards them from the large table that gives guests who are dining alone an opportunity to meet new people. He smiles at her.

- Scusi. If you don’t mind, to answer your...debate, you are right, Miss. In Italy, we drink espresso because it helps digestion. But I’m like you, I still prefer a cappuccino.

- Ha! She turns to look at him‚ I was right!

- It’s not a competition!

Page 32: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

- So what in the Italian culture says you shouldn’t drink coffee with milk after breakfast?

- What? Are you saying they’re wrong?

- No, I’m just curious. I always thought it was because strong coffee is supposed to help digestion.

- It’s not scientific. It’s tradition.

- What part of what I just said excluded tradition?

He opens his mouth to answer but is disturbed by an older man turning towards them from the large table that gives guests who are dining alone an opportunity to meet new people. He smiles at her.

- Scusi. If you don’t mind, to answer your...debate, you are right, Miss. In Italy, we drink espresso because it helps digestion. But I’m like you, I still prefer a cappuccino.

- Ha! She turns to look at him‚ I was right!

- It’s not a competition!

She takes a sip. Brown sugar sticks on her lips, the taste of coffee blended with milk swirls around her mouth. She tilts the cup and dips the tip of her tongue into the remaining froth, a little pink animal, blackened with tar. The restaurant is almost invisible from the street, a modest door and a handwritten menu on a chalkboard. Fiori di Zucca. Fried zucchini flowers. The name that makes her smile. She leans back, admiring the pictures on the opposite wall. Outside the window, the street is breathing heavily. Breathing in and out, in and out, in and out. Breathing in tourists, breathing out Romans. A constant exchange of thoughts, of smells, of pulsating hearts.

-You know you shouldn’t drink cappuccinos after breakfast?

- Why?

- That’s not how they drink it here.

- Yes, I know that but it doesn’t mean I can’t.

- It’s just not how they do it.

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A myriad of miniature soldiers, carriages colliding, collateral damage. The sandstone façade is a totem to the triumph over the already defeated. She can feel her neck stiffening with the exertion of staring up at the carvings but she can’t stop looking. The cataclysm has that magnetic power. He is way ahead of her, eager to reach the top of the hill before the hoards of tourists. From the top, the city rests in the late afternoon light, the same saturated white as the many marble buildings. It is the light, the way it invades her eyes and body, the way it takes her hand that she will remember the most.

- Isn’t it terrible, that they built monuments to celebrate the death and humiliation of so many people?

- That’s a nonsense, postcolonial way of looking at it.

- What?

- Never mind. It’s... it’s complicated.

- So you would build a monument to celebrate the death of thousands of people? He hesitates.

- No, of course not.

Page 44: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

A myriad of miniature soldiers, carriages colliding, collateral damage. The sandstone façade is a totem to the triumph over the already defeated. She can feel her neck stiffening with the exertion of staring up at the carvings but she can’t stop looking. The cataclysm has that magnetic power. He is way ahead of her, eager to reach the top of the hill before the hoards of tourists. From the top, the city rests in the late afternoon light, the same saturated white as the many marble buildings. It is the light, the way it invades her eyes and body, the way it takes her hand that she will remember the most.

Page 45: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

- Isn’t it terrible, that they built monuments to celebrate the death and humiliation of so many people?

- That’s a nonsense, postcolonial way of looking at it.

- What?

- Never mind. It’s... it’s complicated.

- So you would build a monument to celebrate the death of thousands of people? He hesitates.

- No, of course not.

Page 46: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

- Isn’t it terrible, that they built monuments to celebrate the death and humiliation of so many people?

- That’s a nonsense, postcolonial way of looking at it.

- What?

- Never mind. It’s... it’s complicated.

- So you would build a monument to celebrate the death of thousands of people? He hesitates.

- No, of course not.

A myriad of miniature soldiers, carriages colliding, collateral damage. The sandstone façade is a totem to the triumph over the already defeated. She can feel her neck stiffening with the exertion of staring up at the carvings but she can’t stop looking. The cataclysm has that magnetic power. He is way ahead of her, eager to reach the top of the hill before the hoards of tourists. From the top, the city rests in the late afternoon light, the same saturated white as the many marble buildings. It is the light, the way it invades her eyes and body, the way it takes her hand that she will remember the most.

Page 47: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013
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The nightmare wakes her up at five. The sheets and his arms cleave to her body instead of the water and the hands of the departed souls. The sensation of being pulled under the surface and slowly drowning in the river of death forces her to grasp for air. He sleeps, uninterrupted. She gets up, stands at his bedside, watching his sleeping mass move and his eyeballs flicker.

Their last day. Strolling around in one of the parks, passing big and happy and noisy families in silence. He reaches for her hand but gives up after the first try.

- What are you thinking about?

- Nothing. Just sad to leave I guess. I love this city.

- There are other cities, as great as this one.

- No, none of them are like this.

The foliage a prism, projecting its colours on to the ground, on to her skin. She breathes slowly, shutting out the background noises. There is a pond at the centre of the park, a pond and a bower with columns surrounding it. Doubles are moving on the surface. He finds his own as they sit down on the wooden bench. She talks a little, he tries to listen but she can see he’s drawn to his twin on the surface, mirroring his every move.

- We have to go back now, she says.

- Yes, in a minute. He remains transfixed, gently smiling at himself.

They’re alone by the pond, the heat of the day slowly building around them. The water looks deep. If she were able to heave him in, would he drown? The impulse comes and goes, flashing through her neurons, only to suddenly fade. She is faceless in his reflection, a contour of a human being moving in the shadows.

- Seriously, we have to leave or we’ll miss our flight.

- Yes, ok. Irritation rises in his voice.

He doesn’t move. She sighs, stands, glances at him and starts to walk away. Suddenly she stops, turns, strides back to the bench.

- You have no idea what postcolonial really means, do you? And those glasses? They look ridiculous! Please. I’m going back. I might see you later.

Page 52: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

The nightmare wakes her up at five. The sheets and his arms cleave to her body instead of the water and the hands of the departed souls. The sensation of being pulled under the surface and slowly drowning in the river of death forces her to grasp for air. He sleeps, uninterrupted. She gets up, stands at his bedside, watching his sleeping mass move and his eyeballs flicker.

Their last day. Strolling around in one of the parks, passing big and happy and noisy families in silence. He reaches for her hand but gives up after the first try.

Page 53: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

- What are you thinking about?

- Nothing. Just sad to leave I guess. I love this city.

- There are other cities, as great as this one.

- No, none of them are like this.

The foliage a prism, projecting its colours on to the ground, on to her skin. She breathes slowly, shutting out the background noises. There is a pond at the centre of the park, a pond and a bower with columns surrounding it. Doubles are moving on the surface. He finds his own as they sit down on the wooden bench. She talks a little, he tries to listen but she can see he’s drawn to his twin on the surface, mirroring his every move.

- We have to go back now, she says.

- Yes, in a minute. He remains transfixed, gently smiling at himself.

They’re alone by the pond, the heat of the day slowly building around them. The water looks deep. If she were able to heave him in, would he drown? The impulse comes and goes, flashing through her neurons, only to suddenly fade. She is faceless in his reflection, a contour of a human being moving in the shadows.

- Seriously, we have to leave or we’ll miss our flight.

- Yes, ok. Irritation rises in his voice.

He doesn’t move. She sighs, stands, glances at him and starts to walk away. Suddenly she stops, turns, strides back to the bench.

- You have no idea what postcolonial really means, do you? And those glasses? They look ridiculous! Please. I’m going back. I might see you later.

Page 54: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

- What are you thinking about?

- Nothing. Just sad to leave I guess. I love this city.

- There are other cities, as great as this one.

- No, none of them are like this.

The foliage a prism, projecting its colours on to the ground, on to her skin. She breathes slowly, shutting out the background noises. There is a pond at the centre of the park, a pond and a bower with columns surrounding it. Doubles are moving on the surface. He finds his own as they sit down on the wooden bench. She talks a little, he tries to listen but she can see he’s drawn to his twin on the surface, mirroring his every move.

The nightmare wakes her up at five. The sheets and his arms cleave to her body instead of the water and the hands of the departed souls. The sensation of being pulled under the surface and slowly drowning in the river of death forces her to grasp for air. He sleeps, uninterrupted. She gets up, stands at his bedside, watching his sleeping mass move and his eyeballs flicker.

Their last day. Strolling around in one of the parks, passing big and happy and noisy families in silence. He reaches for her hand but gives up after the first try.

Page 55: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

- We have to go back now, she says.

- Yes, in a minute. He remains transfixed, gently smiling at himself.

They’re alone by the pond, the heat of the day slowly building around them. The water looks deep. If she were able to heave him in, would he drown? The impulse comes and goes, flashing through her neurons, only to suddenly fade. She is faceless in his reflection, a contour of a human being moving in the shadows.

- Seriously, we have to leave or we’ll miss our flight.

- Yes, ok. Irritation rises in his voice.

He doesn’t move. She sighs, stands, glances at him and starts to walk away. Suddenly she stops, turns, strides back to the bench.

- You have no idea what postcolonial really means, do you? And those glasses? They look ridiculous! Please. I’m going back. I might see you later.

Page 56: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

- We have to go back now, she says.

- Yes, in a minute. He remains transfixed, gently smiling at himself.

They’re alone by the pond, the heat of the day slowly building around them. The water looks deep. If she were able to heave him in, would he drown? The impulse comes and goes, flashing through her neurons, only to suddenly fade. She is faceless in his reflection, a contour of a human being moving in the shadows.

- Seriously, we have to leave or we’ll miss our flight.

- Yes, ok. Irritation rises in his voice.

He doesn’t move. She sighs, stands, glances at him and starts to walk away. Suddenly she stops, turns, strides back to the bench.

- You have no idea what postcolonial really means, do you? And those glasses? They look ridiculous! Please. I’m going back. I might see you later.

- What are you thinking about?

- Nothing. Just sad to leave I guess. I love this city.

- There are other cities, as great as this one.

- No, none of them are like this.

The foliage a prism, projecting its colours on to the ground, on to her skin. She breathes slowly, shutting out the background noises. There is a pond at the centre of the park, a pond and a bower with columns surrounding it. Doubles are moving on the surface. He finds his own as they sit down on the wooden bench. She talks a little, he tries to listen but she can see he’s drawn to his twin on the surface, mirroring his every move.

The nightmare wakes her up at five. The sheets and his arms cleave to her body instead of the water and the hands of the departed souls. The sensation of being pulled under the surface and slowly drowning in the river of death forces her to grasp for air. He sleeps, uninterrupted. She gets up, stands at his bedside, watching his sleeping mass move and his eyeballs flicker.

Their last day. Strolling around in one of the parks, passing big and happy and noisy families in silence. He reaches for her hand but gives up after the first try.

Page 57: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

collectionindex

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collectionindex

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Page 61: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

Dress Aveline

Top Vida

Dress Hanna

Shirt Clara

Dress Rosalia

Jacket Diana

Blouse Aveline

Skirt Vida

Top Hanna

Skirt Theodora

Trousers Diana

Skirt Aveline

Dress Vida

Trousers Hanna

Page 62: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

Dress Aveline

Top Vida

Dress Hanna

Shirt Clara

Dress Rosalia

Jacket Diana

Blouse Aveline

Skirt Vida

Top Hanna

Skirt Theodora

Trousers Diana

Skirt Aveline

Dress Vida

Trousers Hanna

Page 63: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013
Page 64: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

Photography: Sejin Ahn

Model: Amanda Urvall Nyrén

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Design:Lundgren+Lindqvist

Print:Göteborgstryckeriet

-

Thanks to:European Institute, ŁódźMuzeum Kinematografii, Łódź

Creative director:Michelle Urvall Nyré[email protected]

Sales and production:Karol [email protected]

-

www.everreve.com

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Page 66: ever revê – autumn/winter collection 2013

www.everreve.com