The Sweater I Couldn’t Find
There are certain pieces in your wardrobe you don’t forget. Those that made you feel like the best version of yourself. But for me, the sweater was never one of them. But there was this lingering thought: Why hasn’t anyone made the sweater that just works?
For seasons, as I tried to upgrade my wardrobe, I cycled through sweater after sweater, always searching for something that seemed impossibly out of reach. I wanted something warm, but not bulky. Flattering, but not tight. Soft, but not itchy. Too often, I had to choose between comfort and confidence, between looking good and feeling good, between something affordable and breaking my bank. And more often than not, I settled. I told myself it was just how sweaters were supposed to be.
I remember standing in my hotel room in Seattle, getting ready for a company offsite. I was still new to the startup, determined to make the right impression—confident, capable, someone who knew her stuff. I'd packed what I thought was the perfect sweater. But as I pulled it on, something felt wrong. The fit was off in ways I couldn't name. It made me fidget, constantly adjusting the sleeves, and smoothing the fabric. Instead of feeling put-together, I felt distracted by my own clothes.
I remember standing in my hotel room in Seattle, getting ready for a company offsite. I was still new to the startup, determined to make the right impression—confident, capable, someone who knew her stuff. I'd packed what I thought was the perfect sweater. But as I pulled it on, something felt wrong. The fit was off in ways I couldn't name. It made me fidget, constantly adjusting the sleeves, and smoothing the fabric. Instead of feeling put-together, I felt distracted by my own clothes.
Or that evening date in San Francisco that was supposed to stretch from the afternoon in downtown to dinner by the beach. I'd chosen a cashmere sweater—soft, and elegant. Something I could drape over my shoulders during the warm afternoon and slip on when the evening grew cold. But San Francisco had other plans. The wind at Ocean Beach cut straight through that thin cashmere like it wasn't even there, and I spent the entire dinner shivering, unable to focus on the conversation because I was too busy being cold. I'd paid good money for something that looked perfect but failed me when I needed it most.
But there was this lingering thought: Why hasn’t anyone made the sweater that just works?
So when T and I began dreaming about building something together, we returned to that feeling. That gap in our own closets, and we were certain it would be a gap in the closet of others. We didn’t have a five-year plan. We didn’t have a product roadmap. But we did have a clear desire to make something that felt truly right; something that felt like us.
We chose sweaters because they’re intimate. They rest on your skin. They hold your warmth. They go where you go, through work days and weekends, through foggy mornings and cold café afternoons. We wanted to make something that lived with you, not just on you.
That’s how Lynx + Loom began. Not with trend forecasting or capital backing, but with a quiet frustration, and a hope that we could build the sweater we’d always been searching for.
One that offers ease. Warmth. Elegance. And above all, confidence.
The kind of piece that lets you settle into your own skin a little more fully. The one you reach for not just because it looks good, but because it makes you feel good.
With warmth,
