LIMOUNE T-SHIRT

Limoune — oranges in Moroccan Darija, not lemons — names the fruit that colors Moroccan mornings. Pilar Olivero's photograph holds a dense pile of citrus with green leaves at the base: market abundance, warm still life, the inland version of a horizon you cannot see but feel in the trilingual text above — "Frente al mar..." and "Face à la mer..." facing the sea from a fruit stall. Arabic calligraphy nests in the corner of the image like a whispered address, as if the stall itself were speaking toward the coast.

Screen-printed on cream oversized 260g cotton through katagami stencils, Limoune wears a red hand-embroidered border that frames the warm-toned print. French, Arabic, and Spanish columns rise from personal notebooks; hand embroidery and katagami printing meet in Paris, where three creators from Argentina, Chile, and Morocco translate analog film into something you can live in. Each piece carries the slight irregularities of the handmade — a record of gesture, not factory repetition.

Wearing Limoune is wearing morning itself — the sweetness that precedes the day, the generosity of a market table. You carry abundance not as decoration, but as a gesture of care: fruit offered, languages overlapping, the sea remembered even inland. On skin, it reads as invitation — to pause, to share, to let identities widen rather than narrow.