Isobel Sippel is a muse. My muse. An ethereal presence that partakes of dreams and beautiful objects. And a gift of words. When I think of Isobel I think of clouds and apricots, of waves and wisps – of tulle and silver vaults. In France.
We met years ago when she was designing children’s clothing. We have stayed friends and I follow her missives with a childish glee. She makes me want to go home again, back to the days of the back yard and riding bikes, counting stars. I feel wonderworldly when I meet up with her, and now, her latest adventure are these fabulous cushions she painstakingly brings to life.
Lifestyle stores and magazines in South Africa are fawning and exposing her Shibori designs. The dullest sofa brought to life with liquid art, is it pulsating as a heart, revealing as a lie detector or simply leaking into the atmosphere? That’s what I love about them, bold reds, golds and the blue of messy ink.
Mother of two equally talented women, the family of which I shall speak later, her lust for the beauty in life will lift any spirit. She wants love, romance and Paris. I can relate. We sing with similar notes, but unlike me, she is the creator, the artist, the dreamer of textiles and patterns and light. I love what this South African designer does, her ethos and her classical belief in elegance. We shall see, read and hear more of her.