When I was a little girl growing up in New York City, my mom would sometimes dress up just to make me laugh. She had a way of turning even the most ordinary moments into something theatrical -- throwing on a scarf, putting on lipstick, slipping into a pair of unforgettable red sunglasses she’d bought on the streets of Manhattan in the late '70s.

They were fire-engine red, with oversized round lenses and soft chain temples that ended in bold red discs, swaying like earrings when she moved. I’d watch, completely mesmerized. And when she wasn’t looking, I’d sneak into the top drawer of her dresser, pull them out, and slip them on. Just like that, I felt transformed -- glamorous, playful, powerful. Like I could be anyone.

Years later, as we packed to move overseas, I saw those same sunglasses tossed into a box marked for donation. My heart dropped. I couldn’t let them go. I quietly pulled them out and tucked them away like a secret -- a little piece of magic I wasn’t ready to lose.

Then, after my marriage ended and I found myself starting over -- raising a three-year-old and trying to rebuild a life from the ground up -- I found those glasses again. And this time, I understood. They weren’t just a memory. They were a spark. A reminder of creativity, self-expression, joy. Of the little girl who believed in possibility. I wanted to create something that carried that feeling forward.

The name Willows came to me in a dream. The soft chain temples that drape from every pair reminded me of willow branches -- graceful, flowing, resilient. Willows bend with the wind, but they never break. And somehow, that felt like me.

From my little corner of Los Angeles to faces around the world -- thank you for making Willows part of your story too.

xo,
Sasha