About

Why

I wasn't trying to make a keepsake. I was trying to get rid of a deadline.

I got tired of watching mothers feel behind at remembering their own child. There's a whole industry of beautiful books, and every page in them has a date on it. Miss one and the blank stays blank. Most end up with three pages filled in and eleven months missing.

That's not a mother failing. That's a book keeping score.

I'm a designer in Johannesburg, and I was never organised about any of this either. My friends gave me a keepsake box years ago, and I made Hareloom because of what happened to it.

It's mostly full.

How it’s made

It took longer than it should have.

Dozens of paper samples, a printer who started dreading my emails, and the first box sample sent back because the paper lifted at the corners. You probably wouldn't have noticed. I would have.

It hasn't been tested on families at all. It's been tested on one disorganised designer.

Every other box promises you won't miss anything. This one assumes you will — and fills up anyway.

A small child in a dinosaur jumper, in black and white
A linen pouch inside the open box, in black and white