LES Winter Journal Reflections

Thoughts on my day job, and what happens when you let creative work get a little weird.

I’m always slightly hesitant to write too much about LES here on A Whimsical World (beyond sharing a bit of news at the end of every story). In my head, I’ve created this arbitrary distinction: LES is my “day job,” and AWW is my “extracurricular activity.” LES is where I go to build a business, and AWW is where I get to write about all the other things that interest me—things that don’t necessarily have anything to do with that business.

Having an outlet to explore ALL my creative interests, without constantly asking myself whether a story is strategic or “on brand,” feels sacred. Like something I need to protect.

The LES Collection Winter Journal: Strange Artifacts

But today, as I write this, I’m acknowledging a deeper truth: these two endeavours aren’t actually distinct. There is no separation. AWW is me, and LES is also me (albeit with an incredible team and a community of artists). All creative work is connected.

Working as a creative is about the journey—wherever that takes you. The ability to present a cohesive, unified vision (to “stay on brand”) is important for a business. But a winding path full of detours and dead ends is absolutely essential for a creative. Originality is rooted in that journey. Julie Cameron has a fantastic section on this in The Artist’s Way:

“Remember this: each of us is our own country, an interesting place to visit. It is the accurate mapping out of our own creative interests that invites the term original. We are the origin of our art. It’s homeland. Viewed this way, originality is the process of remaining true to ourselves.”

(If you want more of my thoughts about originality, I wrote more about it here.)

All of this is a somewhat meandering introduction to today’s story, which is about the LES winter collection. I don’t know why I felt the need to justify sharing it here. Maybe because I want to be clear: I’m not trying to sell you something, I’m just trying to share my creative journey.

But that’s not totally true either, because I am trying to sell art. It’s very good art. Made by very cool people.

I am particularly excited about 2026 for LES, and our winter launch has amplified that feeling. The campaign was different from anything we have done, but still very us. It is definitely a favorite of mine. Putting it together with my team reminded me why I love my work so much: the world-building, the storytelling, watching something go from concept to completion (quickly and nimbly). That moment when you cross the threshold between “not sure how it’s going to turn out” and “this is so cool.” It’s magical.

If I’m being honest, I did not arrive in January feeling like an energetic visionary with a colour-coded plan. Q4 always leaves me totally burnt out on LES. The holidays are a lot—great, but exhausting. It’s the most beautiful chaos, everything moving quickly and emotionally, and then suddenly we’re at the finish line, and my nervous system is fried, and my brain is empty.

So I took a much-needed couple of weeks off. I skied, surfed, read a ton, and spent time surrounded by friends and family. In the past, I’ve used the time between Christmas and New Year’s to plan for LES—to set intentions, team goals, map out launches, and make lists for EVERYTHING. But this year I didn’t have it in me. I didn’t even think about the fact that we had an artist launch planned for mid-January that would need a campaign.

But thankfully, I am not solely responsible for all the content we put out at LES.

When I showed up back at the showroom that first week of January, our Brand Director, Tatum Harrison, presented me with her vision for the launch. She had the concept, the references, the schedule, and the whole thing already moving forward.

It was such a relief. But more than that, it was a reminder of something I think about constantly: how creative work is so much fun when it isn’t a solo sport.

Having the privilege of working with a small but incredibly talented team is one of the greatest joys of my work at LES. It’s the team that gives me the time to chase whims for AWW, to follow an idea that may or may not lead anywhere, just because it feels interesting.

A lot of creative work is, objectively, not productive. But running a business requires A LOT of productivity. There is magic in our dynamic at LES. We work fast, we’re organised, but we also leave room for play. There is trust and momentum built on each other’s ideas. And we have this shared belief that the best work usually comes from letting things get a little weird.

This launch is such a good example of that. It was a true group effort—from concept to shoot to implementation online in about a week and a half. The energy of it feels like kids playing in a sandbox. Literally. My team built a sandbox in our showroom to create the images.

The concept for this winter campaign is called Strange Artifacts. The visual idea was to make it look like these objects were dug up from an archeological site — sandy, mysterious, ancient.

My personal spin: what if that archeological site wasn’t on Earth?

And what if the human archaeologist imagined that their culture was driven by the act of making art? I dreamt up a world where beauty and craftsmanship are so essential that even the skeletal structure morphs to reflect this way of being.

I’m an avid science fiction reader, and having just finished a re-read of The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin, I was already in that otherworldly anthropological mindset. In my own collection, I gravitate towards pieces just like this: objects that feel old, that carry patina, that have a sense of history… but are also strange. Familiar, but slightly off.

I wrote a short story for the launch. It was an opportunity to work on my fiction, which I don’t do often enough. I wrote it quickly—in about twenty minutes. It felt like one of those sketching exercises where the time limit defines the work. I didn’t give myself enough time to overthink or to spiral into editing mode. Just instinct and atmosphere. The story (which I will share below) was meant to set the tone for the collection. To create a vibe.

I designed the whole thing in a journal format. The choice was partly creative and partly nostalgic.

We used to print a physical LES Journal, and it was such a joy. I loved the tactile-ness of it. The excitment of being able to hold that print in my hands. As the world opened up post-pandemic, we decided to put that journal money into more in-person experiences: our showroom, pop-ups, dinners, and events.

I love gathering face-to-face, but I am still driven by the idea of creating campaigns that are not optimised for the algorithm. While this journal isn’t printed. It still has that feel. It’s our way of inviting people into a world of our making.

Collecting art, for me, has never been about the transaction. It’s a celebration of community— of artists, of patrons, of curiosity. It is an opportunity to be a part of something with people who care about beauty and story enough to build their lives around it. I am so lucky I get to collaborate with that community for both my “day job” and my “extra-curricular activity.”

My goal for most of my Substack posts is to learn something alongside you, readers. Today was a little different. Let me know what you think and if you want me to share more of my experiences with LES!

Shop the winter catalog

Strange Artifacts: A Short Story —

I stepped onto the sand, boots crunching on rocks, and bent down to examine the first of the artifacts. The air was breathable but thick with cloying heat. I was bathed in shadow, the perpetual dusk like a Scandinavian winter. Both moons hovered overhead, low and pale. One the color of dried moss, the other a faint amber. They were a constant reminder of the strangeness of this place.

The first artifact was skeletal, but not like any we had catalogued before. It appeared as though bone had fused with something ornamental, ribs braided as in gothic ironwork, symmetrical vertebrae flared and decorative. Each piece was gestural, perhaps structure was an afterthought.

They were surrounded by other objects: ancient cups with faces pressed into their surfaces. Often two eyes and two mouths. Could they see deeper? Further? More? Did each mouth have its own purpose? Maybe one spoke and one sang. I tried not to get trapped in human logic, but it followed me anyway, loyal and unwanted.

I brushed sand from what appeared to be fossilized plants. Like the bones, they were ornamental. The perfectly preserved petals and stems reaching, twisting, climbing.

As the smaller mossy moon slipped behind a veil of dust-clouds, I sat among the ruins and imagined a culture that valued artistic expression over utility. One that made objects out of love and for the sake of beauty. A people comprised of artists and makers. Not because the artifacts pointed to that conclusion, but because that was a place that sounded nice. Better.

The LES Winter Collection

Explore the full journal here

Shop the collection here

The artists: Lillian Smith, Karen Quirion, Lex Pavone, and Lava Objects

The LES Moving Sale

We are moving showrooms! So this sale will be pretty epic. Samples, seconds, props, furniture, art, and vintage, it all has to go!

February 6th and 7th, 10 am-2 pm

In-Person Only: The LES Showroom — 124 9TH ST, Suite 236, Brooklyn, NY 11215

Don’t forget to hit that heart! It helps more than you know. If you liked this, please subscribe, share it with a friend, and leave a comment! For more creativity, you can follow me on IG and explore years of art and design articles on the LES Journal

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