Product measurements (cm)

The actual measurements of the product may have a small margin of error of 1-3cm. And this error does not affect the overall shape of the product.

Model Xuan Trinh is 175cm tall, with a bust of 86cm, a waist of 63cm, and hips of 93cm. Trinh is wearing size M.

• Main material: Printed polyester, made in China.

• Lining material: Chiffon (100% Polyester)

• Tailor-maker: Thanh Thuy, exquisite handcrafted tailoring at Hity Atelier, Nha Trang, Vietnam

We are in Saigon

On the old balcony, I open my eyes to the early morning sunlight streaming through the window. Saigon awakens with the sound of birds and distant cars. I put on a white shirt and a straw hat, simple enough to start the day. I don't need much, just a fresh breath to feel present.

We walk through bustling streets, where old yellow walls still retain the scent of time. Each step is a breath, each swaying skirt a greeting. Saigon isn't as noisy as people think; if we walk slowly, it becomes as gentle as the midday sun breaking on our shoulders.

We stopped at a roadside coffee shop. Wooden tables, wicker chairs, a cool cup of typical Saigon coffee. We sat and watched the people go by, without saying a word. Our floral dress fluttered in the breeze, the aroma of coffee mingling with the sunlight. Perhaps, happiness is sometimes as simple as that, being fully present in this moment.

As we walk past the old tailor shop, we see our reflection in the mirror. Not to look at ourselves, but to remember: we have changed. Softer, more serene. The white linen shirt, the floral dress, and the smile at the corner of our lips—they tell the story of our journey, without a word.

On a time-worn bicycle, we glide through alleyways shaded by tamarind trees. Our skirts flutter gently, our hair tossed by the wind. Saigon slips past beneath our feet, and we let ourselves dissolve into the rhythm of the city. We're not going far, we're simply delving deeper into our own hearts.

Amidst the pages of old books, we find the scent of memories. A small postcard, inscribed with: "To the traveler of this city." We smile. Perhaps, we are that person – someone who seeks peace in the little things, by listening to the breath of the city.

The sunlight tinged the awnings. The scents of fruit, fabric, and everyday life mingled together. I weaved through the stalls, greeting the vendors with smiles. My floral dress was slightly dusty, but it felt even more authentic, just like Saigon itself—imperfect, yet full of life.

As the sun set behind the buildings, we stood on the small rooftop, watching the city change color. The wind blew, our dresses fluttered, our clothes touched the orange light. In that moment, we could no longer distinguish between ourselves and Saigon; everything merged into a gentle rhythm.

A friend photographed me in the afternoon sun. I didn't pose, I just gazed into the distance. The light touched my skin, the threads of my linen fabric. I realized: the most beautiful thing isn't my appearance, but the way I quietly live, quietly love this city.

I sat in a roadside cafe, watching the twinkling lights illuminate the sidewalk. The sounds of cars mingled with laughter. The city was still awake, but I was at peace.
The long day has passed, and we remain intact in the breath of a woman in Saigon, light and full of gratitude.

We come to this city not to search for anything, but to listen to ourselves amidst the noise, to learn to live slowly in a fast-paced world, and to understand that the most beautiful thing is not what we bring with us, but how we are present, like the sunshine, like the wind, like Saigon itself.