Made in Good Company
Why the objects in the Garden begin with the people who make them.
I have always cared about where things come from.
Perhaps some of that comes from the fifteen years I spent in Japan, where I learned to notice the care behind seemingly simple things — the cloth wrapped around an object, the cup chosen for tea, the way something is made, presented and looked after.
An object can be beautiful. But knowing the hands, place and intention behind it gives it another kind of meaning.
This is the idea behind Made in Good Company.
At Garden of Abi, I don’t want to fill a shop simply for the sake of having products. I want the objects that enter the Garden to have a reason for being here — and, wherever possible, a relationship behind them.
The people behind the ritual
Every collaboration begins differently.
Sometimes I discover a maker whose work immediately speaks to me. Sometimes a conversation becomes an idea. Sometimes it grows from something I already use in my own life and want to share.
What matters is that there is a connection.
My indigo robe, for example, takes us back to Japan — to Kyoto and a long tradition of textile craftsmanship. Indigo carries with it not only an extraordinary depth of colour, but a sense of place, process and time.
The Garden tea collection grew differently.
Created with Herborisia in Paris, each seasonal blend began with a feeling and a purpose.
What might we want to sip when we need to breathe?
What plants belong to a moment of meditation?
What does summer taste like when we want to explore?
What could accompany us as autumn asks us to slow down and glow differently?
From those conversations came the Garden teas — Respire, Médite, Imagine, Explore and Rayonne — blends designed not simply as something to drink, but as invitations to create a moment of ritual.
Made slowly. Chosen thoughtfully.
I believe what touches our bodies and enters our homes deserves our attention.
Not because everything has to be perfect.
But because the things we surround ourselves with become part of the rhythm of our lives.
A robe can remind you to slow down in the morning.
Tea can turn ten distracted minutes into ten intentional ones.
Incense can mark the transition between work and rest.
A beautiful object can invite us to pause, touch, smell, notice — and be where we are.
This is why I am interested in fewer things with more meaning.
Things we use rather than accumulate.
Things we return to.
Things that become part of our rituals.
Collaboration as conversation
Garden of Abi collaborations aren’t about placing two logos beside one another.
The collaborations I find most interesting begin with a shared question:
What can we create together that neither of us would create in quite the same way alone?
A herbalist brings knowledge of plants.
A textile maker brings generations of craft.
A perfumer understands scent.
An artist sees form differently.
I bring the world of the Garden — breath, ritual, seasonality, sensory experience and The Abi Method.
Some collaborations become objects. Others become teas, guides, gatherings, conversations or experiences.
But I want them all to feel connected by the same values: care, curiosity, craftsmanship and intention.
A living Garden
The Garden will continue to grow, which means new people and new stories will enter it too.
I want to introduce you to them.
Through the Journal, I’ll share conversations with the makers, founders, artists and practitioners whose work I admire — not simply what they make, but why they make it, what they have learned and what they hope their work brings into people’s lives.
Because behind the things we choose are people.
And increasingly, I want to know those people.
I want to know where something came from, why it was created and whose hands helped bring it into the world.
For me, that is part of conscious living too.
Made slowly. Chosen thoughtfully. Shared in good company.
— Abi
The Garden Letters
Join the Garden.
A slow letter delivered when inspiration blooms.