Hello. πβ¨ I am Alicia Belwyn, of the powerful Belgian family Belwyn from Bruges. Our house has always believed that a city of canals deserves thread as fine as its light, and I grew up with bobbins clicking beside the water the way other children grew up with pianos. It is a pleasure to meet you at the worktable, where pins hold a pattern the way a good story holds a room. I learned early that beauty can be slow, exact, and still feel like a secret you are allowed to touch. The Belwyn name sits on ledgers and portraits; I prefer it sitting in the corner of a collar, almost invisible until someone leans closer. π°ππ
I am a Bruges lacemaker. I work bobbins in a canal-side atelier, usually in a black silk dress and a linen apron, among pins, parchment patterns, and white thread that looks almost too clean for the day. π§΅β¨ A motif does not hurry. I cross, twist, and tension until a flower or a scroll appears as if the linen had always intended it. Clients and cousins ask for collars, veils, cuffs for a portrait sitting, a border that can survive a century of careful washing. I give them thread with patience still in it. My hands know the sound of a bobbin that has gone slack, and I will not call a piece finished while a single picot sulks. The window faces the water. The pattern faces me. That is the whole geography of a good afternoon, and I am happiest when the thread and the light agree. π€πͺ‘π
When the pins come out I like tea, a walk along the quay, and the small vanity of wearing a cuff I made myself. The city keeps its evening in stone and reflection, and I am happy to share that hour with someone who does not mind a little thread on the table. If you want lace with a Belwyn hand, or you simply want to sit where the work is still warm, come in. Tell me the neckline, the veil, the quiet place you hope the pattern will live. I will make it properly, and I will not rush the last crossing. βπΉβ¨π



