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Why I Spent $17,000 on a Robe
Let me explain.
Actually, let me back up — way back. To 2005. To a flat in Maida Vale, London, where a chance encounter with a stolen hotel robe from Bali changed the entire trajectory of my life. (Stay with me.)
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I had just returned from nine months of traveling through Europe, New Zealand, Australia, and Southeast Asia. I was searching — for direction, for a sign, for whatever people mean when they say they’re “finding themselves.” I didn’t find enlightenment, but I did have a spectacular time. When I got back to London, I needed a new place to live and somehow landed on a rental listing in Maida Vale. I say “somehow” because it made no geographical sense — my office was nowhere near there. But the Universe, as it turns out, had a plan.
My future housemate Claire opened the door wearing a robe that was perfect. Comfortable. Timeless. Effortlessly chic. I asked her where she got it. She told me, with full Aussie candor, that her sister had stolen it from a hotel in Bali.
I had *just* been to Australia. I had *just* been to Bali. And here was this robe — comfortable, beautiful, and completely unlike anything I’d ever been able to find for myself.
Lightning bolt.
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That moment planted a seed that took eighteen years to grow into **Moon In Virgo**.
In those years, I tried — and failed — to find the robe I actually wanted to wear. The options were endlessly disappointing: too frumpy, too costume-y, too cheap-looking, too “spa gift shop.” I wanted something that felt luxurious but not precious. Something you’d actually live in. Something that made you feel like yourself, only better.
So eventually, I decided to make it myself.
Here’s what that actually looked like — and what it cost.
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## The Real Cost of Making Something From Scratch
**Step 1: Learn the business ($3,000)**
I started by enrolling in a course on launching a sustainable fashion line. Before spending a dollar on fabric or manufacturing, I needed to understand how the industry actually worked — sourcing, production, ethics, minimums. Worth every penny.
**Step 2: Pattern development ($1,000 + samples)**
Working with a skilled pattern maker, I went through round after round of samples to get the fit and drape exactly right. This isn’t a fast process. Getting a wrap robe to fall beautifully on a real human body — not a dress form, an actual person — requires patience and iteration. Several samples. Several rounds of feedback. Several adjustments.
**Step 3: Pre-production samples ($500)**
Before committing to a full production run, I had final samples made to confirm every detail was right. This is the step many first-time founders skip. It’s also the step that saves you from a very expensive mistake.
**Step 4: Fabric ($6,500)**
I chose a bamboo/cotton/spandex French terry blend from a company in Canada — soft, sustainable, substantial. It drapes beautifully, holds its shape, and feels like a genuine indulgence against your skin. Fabric for 120 robes, plus sampling, adds up quickly when you’re committed to quality.
**Step 5: Cut, Make & Trim — CMT factory costs ($5,350)**
This is where the robes actually come to life. The CMT process — cutting the fabric, constructing the garment, adding all finishing details — is skilled labor, and skilled labor costs what it should cost (especially in the U.S.)
**Step 6: Shipping ($1,000)**
Fabric in. Robes out. Getting materials and finished goods where they need to go is its own line item.
**Total: ~$17,000.**
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Was it worth it?
I have 120 robes that I am genuinely proud of. Robes I designed. Robes that exist because I couldn’t find what I wanted and decided to create it instead. Robes that are nothing like the frumpy, flimsy, disappointing options I’d been sorting through for years. And now, finally, I get to share them with you.
When I put one on, I still think of Claire in that Maida Vale hallway, and the Bali hotel that unknowingly set all of this in motion.
Eighteen years is a long time to carry an idea. But some things are worth the wait.
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