From Cashmere to Alpaca: The Wild, True Story Behind Our New Reversible Jacket
If you’ve been with us since the early days, you might remember our beloved reversible cashmere jackets — ultra-soft, double-sided, and so flattering. They sold out fast and became instant favorites. But the story behind why we stopped making them — and what replaced them — is one of our all-time best adventures.
This is the story of how a plan to attend an alpaca trade show turned into a fever dream of planes, trains, gypsy cabs, and the world’s most glamorous 4-H fair, and how it all led to our newest creation: the Reversible Alpaca Jacket.
Why We Broke Up With Cashmere
Let’s start at the beginning. A few years ago, we went to Inner Mongolia to visit the factory that made our cashmere. We met wonderful partners, saw the cashmere goats, and came home inspired. The resulting jackets were luxurious, soft, and deeply loved.
But success came with an uneasy truth. As we learned more, we discovered that the cashmere boom, that “everyday cashmere” flooding the market, had a hidden cost. To meet global demand, too many goats were grazing too little land, stripping the Mongolian steppes bare.
The Search for Something Better
When you remove something beautiful from your world, you have to replace it with something even better. That’s when alpaca entered the conversation.
Alpaca fiber has all the qualities we loved about cashmere — softness, warmth, elegance — but with an astonishingly gentle environmental footprint. Alpacas graze lightly, live long, and their fleece grows back each year like a renewable gift.
Even better: the Peruvian alpaca industry has been managed with care and pride for centuries. Peru has done an extraordinary job maintaining genetic diversity and supporting the people who steward these herds in the Andes.
Naturally, we wanted to see it all firsthand.
So, we booked our tickets to Peru.
The Disaster Day: Lima to Arequipa (Sort Of)
Everything started off beautifully. We landed in Lima, enjoyed one of the best dinners of our lives (Peru really does food better than almost anywhere), and prepared to attend the big Alpaca Industry Show the next morning.
Then came the plot twist.
Around 11 p.m., Heidi looked up from her phone and said, in a tone that made my blood run cold:
“Ward… I can’t find the convention hall.”
Turns out, there was a reason she couldn’t. The “big show” wasn’t in Lima. It was 600 miles south, in a city called Arequipa.
That’s like flying to New York for a conference only to find out it’s actually in South Carolina.
The Andean Odyssey
By dawn, we were in full scramble mode: booking planes, trains, and whatever automobiles could get us there.
That morning, at the Lima airport, disaster struck again: Heidi ate something that instantly declared war. By the time we boarded our flight to Arequipa, she was violently ill. Picture me trying to carry on luggage, boarding passes, and one semi-conscious wife who couldn’t sit up straight.
We landed in Arequipa, a breathtaking city high on an Andean plateau, surrounded by volcanoes bursting skyward like something out of National Geographic. It’s both beautiful and a little terrifying.
The airport was about the size of the one in Sun Valley, Idaho (where we have a home) , charming but… compact.
And that’s when the real adventure began.
The Gypsy Cab
We were told not to take “gypsy cabs.” Naturally, the only cab available looked exactly like the one from The Royal Tenenbaums, if that cab had been retired, then resurrected by someone’s eccentric uncle.
Heidi was stretched out in the backseat, eyes closed, whispering prayers. I climbed into the front, trying to look confident. As we drove into Arequipa, we saw the city unfold: grand European architecture, baroque cathedrals, and colorful colonial streets , a little slice of Italy tucked into the Andes.
Then, a few blocks later, the scenery changed. Stray dogs, dusty alleys, and what looked suspiciously like a backlot for an NGO commercial.
We pressed on.
The “Alpaca Show”
After 20 minutes of potholes and suspense, we pulled into what I can only describe as a rodeo fairground. I double-checked the address. Surely, this wasn’t it?
At the registration tent, we saw badges that read “BREEDER.”
I thought, holy alpaca… we’ve flown 6,000 miles to attend a 4-H fair for livestock breeders.
Meanwhile, Heidi was lying on a bench, pale as linen, while I scoured the fairgrounds praying there was more to this story. And then: there it was.
A tent tucked away near the back marked “Manufacturers.” Inside, like a mirage, we found the very people we’d come to meet: Peruvian artisans and textile masters who were not only making alpaca fabrics
The European Heart of Arequipa
Here’s the twist we didn’t see coming: Arequipa has deep Italian, Swiss, and German roots. The people who run the alpaca industry there combine European precision with Andean artistry. When we finally visited the factory, we were blown away — spotless floors, Italian and German machines, and craftspeople who radiated pride and purpose.
We’d struck gold.
A year later, our Reversible Alpaca Jacket is here: born from chaos, laughter, and one very long taxi ride. It’s everything we dreamed of: Softer than cashmere, Two jackets in one (reversible design), Made sustainably in Arequipa, Peru And designed to last a lifetime "
The Reversible Alpaca Wool Jacket
A year later, our Reversible Alpaca Jacket is here — born from chaos, laughter, and one very long taxi ride. It’s everything we dreamed of:
- Softer than cashmere
- Two jackets in one (reversible design)
- Made sustainably in Arequipa, Peru
- And designed to last a lifetime
It’s proof that sometimes the most beautiful creations come from the messiest adventures.
Try it on, and you’ll feel it — not just the luxury of the fabric, but the story woven into every stitch.
DM me on Instagram (@heidicareydesign) and tell me what you think — I promise, I’ll reply once I stop laughing about the “breeder badges.”
Big hugs,
