Mossminder Pouches. [See them now.]
I know they can't compete with you-know-who down there, but here are all the ones I made for their first iteration, clustered together. Of course no two are exactly alike because that's boring.
But their consistencies —
the seedpod appeal of their bulbous organic shapes, balanced with the lush textured surface scrappiness — coalesces into a dense design cohesiveness that hits all my personal Helen satisfaction points something fierce. Possibly more than buttercream frosting. WHAT.
Then there’s another layer — a lower-level lingering wisp of a rumor —
where they suggest they’re from another time, but can we name it? Some sepia-toned one-horse town Tom Waits traveled through, and stopped at for a couple nights, in another lifetime? They seem to suggest that they’ve seen things, they were there when it went down, they have secreted away objects of import to elaborately shifting plots. Or maybe they’re just good storytellers. Mage, soothsayer, fabulist — regardless — their spell is cast.