Some fabrics don’t just wrap around you; they carry you places. The Crimson Wheels is one of them. It feels like the city itself, loud, alive, unpredictable, and somehow, it finds a way to feel like home. The Crimson runs across black like a memory interwined with rays of gold, like catching sunlight the moment before it's gone.
Scattered across the fabric are tug-tucks, a symbol of mobility, of an adventurous soul ever seeking to boldly go where no one has gone before. They remind you of shared rides with strangers who turn into stories. They’re wheels, yes, but they also feel like tiny spinning compasses, always pointing somewhere new.
This stole doesn’t just sit pretty. It moves with you. It remembers places you’ve been, and whispers of places you’ve yet to see. Drape it over black, and it smoulders. Let it fall over white, and it sings.
