Hello. We’re Louie.
That sentence tends to make grammar checkers nervous, so we may as well start there.
We are a DID system. When we say we, it is not branding, whimsy, or an attempt to sound like minor royalty. There is more than one of us sharing this life, this body and this increasingly unreasonable quantity of fabric.
The people involved in this operation
We are the one designing things, making things, writing things, filming things, learning things the difficult way and occasionally explaining to a sewing machine that continued cooperation would be in everybody’s best interests.
Lily is our wife, our loudest supporter and the department responsible for snacks, love, reassurance and reminding us that apparently humans need to eat even when they are halfway through something.
They are non-binary, wonderful and very much part of the life around Heymish. They are not, however, secretly in another room making mugs and tote bags while we take the credit. The making is ours. Lily provides encouragement, practical help and emergency food deliveries when we have accidentally turned “I’ll just finish this bit” into several hours.
Together, we are a queer couple.
Our brains have several tabs open
We are pansexual and polyamorous. We are autistic and have ADHD. Our brain does not so much follow a train of thought as open a transport hub, misplace the timetable and become distracted by an interesting pigeon.
Sometimes that produces brilliant ideas.
Sometimes it produces six unfinished projects, seventeen open tabs, a cold cup of tea and no clue where the scissors have gone.
Usually, it produces both.
The unpolished bits
We are also diabetic. We have facial hair, thinning hair on our head and teeth that are currently off duty in a container in the drawer in the loo, beside the spare toilet roll.
The teeth do exist. They are simply working remotely.
Dentures are uncomfortable, so we do not always wear them. Sometimes photographs of us contain fewer teeth than the internet has decided a person ought to display. The internet will cope.
Even the frayed bits
We are not going to hide any of this.
We are not going to smooth away our skin, conceal our facial hair, disguise our body, apologise for our disabilities or photograph ourselves exclusively from one approved angle while holding a tasteful mug near a fern.
We are also not going to describe this as our “brave vulnerability journey”, because that sounds exhausting and we have things to make.
This is simply who we are.
There are scars here. Some are visible. Some are not.
There are parts of our story that are complicated, painful, awkward, funny, messy and still being figured out. There are pieces of us that do not fit neatly into the tidy little boxes people keep trying to hand out.
Fortunately, we are quilters.
We already know that the odd pieces are often the most interesting ones.
Patchwork does not work because every piece is identical. It works because different colours, shapes, histories and textures are brought together and allowed to belong.
Even the frayed bits.
Especially the frayed bits.
That is what we want Heymish to feel like.
Not spotless craft rooms, coordinated outfits and cutting mats that have clearly never experienced actual cutting.
Not projects that work perfectly the first time.
Not a carefully staged life where nobody loses the seam ripper, swears at the bobbin or finds three abandoned cups of tea in different rooms.
This place is for you, too
Heymish is for people who have felt too loud, too queer, too scruffy, too disabled, too neurodivergent, too complicated or simply too much for the polished spaces they were expected to fit into.
The people with unfinished projects and difficult bodies.
The people whose brains take scenic routes.
The people who swear at sewing machines because sometimes the sewing machine started it.
The people who forget why they entered a room but can remember exactly which fabric they saw in a shop three years ago.
The people who have been taught that they need to hide parts of themselves before they are allowed to be seen.
You do not have to do that here.
You do not need to make yourself smaller, tidier, quieter or more acceptable before coming in.
Heymish is colourful, warm, imperfect and a little unruly because so are we.
We are not showing you an influencer-perfect version of our life. Mostly because it does not exist, but also because pretending sounds like far too much work.
We are showing up as we actually are: plurality, queerness, polyamory, autism, ADHD, diabetes, facial hair, thinning hair, teeth on annual leave, bad days, good jokes, fabric piles and all.
Not every scar is easy. Not every part of us feels beautiful every day. But none of it makes us less worthy of being visible, loved or included.
The scars are proof that we have lived, adapted, survived, changed and carried on creating things anyway.
And that is beautiful enough for us.
So, hello.
We’re Louie.
Come in, mind the fabric piles, and please check the chair for pins before sitting down.
Love you so much and I am with you in this journey 100%. I believe you now have the courage and respect of where your life is now to move forward to release into the world who and where your priorities exist. I wish you the most beautiful journey and respect all of you and Lily to the fullest extent. Love you to the moon and back. ❤️ Love you all .
Love Mom. ❤️ 💙 💜 💖