The Fox in the Flowers – Limited Edition Designer Silk Scarf by Thackray

A designer silk scarf, made to order in a worldwide edition of only 50.

Handcrafted from 18 momme mulberry silk twill, The Fox in the Flowers measures 90 cm with hand-rolled hems. Its design captures the quiet grace of wild visitors in the city, foxes among blossoms, chaos giving way to calm. A piece born from observation, memory, and the meeting of nature and urban life.

• Material: 100% Mulberry Silk, 18 momme
• Size: 90 cm × 90 cm
• Finish: Hand-rolled hems
• Edition: 50 pieces worldwide
• Price: £350
• Availability: On request only – made to order, with delivery within one month from order

Inspiration

I first met them one spring in Bethnal Green. I was living in a small flat that looked out onto the garden below, a tangle of grass, bricks, and a forgotten shed. That’s where they made their den.

At first, I despised them. Their shrieks, their scavenging, the way they overturned bins at night. But then I began to watch, quietly, from my window. There was a mother and her kits, red-furred flashes moving through shadow and blossom. Over time, irritation softened into fascination, and fascination into affection. They had made their home in the cracks of the city, and somehow, they had made one in me too.

One morning, they were gone. Just paw prints fading in the earth. But every spring since, when the foxgloves bloom, I think of them.

The Poem: The Fox in the Flowers

They crept in spring without a sound,
Left pawprints deep in my soft ground.
They tore the bins, they dug with glee,
These wild intruders troubled me.

My flowers crushed, my hosepipe chewed,
Their shrieks at dusk so loud, so rude.
I cursed their games, I clenched my soul,
And nearly called the pest patrol.

But one bright dawn I paused to see
Two kits beneath the cherry tree.
They tumbled, chased a butterfly,
A patch of mischief near the sky.

The mother watched with patient eyes,
Her stillness soft as lullabies.
A muddy nose, a tilted head,
And just like that, my anger fled.

I left out scraps, a shallow bowl.
I named them all, I played no role.
Yet every night, they made me smile,
My heart had shifted all the while.

And then one day, they weren’t around.
No prints, no cries, no torn-up ground.
The garden slept, and so did I,
But missed the rustle drifting by.

They came like trouble, wild and free,
But left a gentler part of me.
Now foxgloves bloom where they once lay,
A gift from those who could not stay.

From Poem to Silk

Each Thackray piece begins with words.
Poetry becomes image; image becomes cloth.
The Fox in the Flowers carries its poem into silk, a meditation on coexistence, impermanence, and small acts of understanding. Where wildness met tenderness, something human took root.

Reserve your edition (£350). Each scarf is built to order and delivered within one month from order. Only 50 are available worldwide.