My Weekend on Lopez Island
with clothing brand Ship Supply
Does every New Yorker reach a point in their tenure where fever dreaming a life outside this monster megalopolis comes to a head?
Maybe this is transplant talk, but my born and raised friends seem to have similar fantasies albeit if only temporary flight then pilgrimage back to “die here.”
It is not up for debate that every New Yorker espouses the necessity to “take breaks” from the city. It’s one of many foundational conversations laid down as initiation.
Met with the opportunity to shoot with clothing brand Ship Supply at their home on a remote island in the Pacific Northwest— the fever peaked.
Upon research of where this place I had never heard of was located, off the coast of Washington state, it showed about three images of the island in total. Anonymity in the age of TikTok minimizes with each passing day. I welcome obscurity.
It felt escapist in all the right ways— far away from a city where no one knows your name, amongst quiet hums of the ocean and sounds of nothing.
The Pacific Northwest wind through my nostrils as I step outside the Sea-Tac airport. One only has to experience it once to harken back an everlasting smell which stores itself in the crevice of your brain where olfactory memories live.
Immerse and commune in nature.
Unexpectedly what I found, in addition, were revelations of locality, the slow life, communing and a way of life outside New York?
With a population of just over two thousand and about the same land proximity as Manhattan, I was instantly struck at how pastoral and minimally touched it was; envisioning a more resort-like beach town. Orca Island is more on par as it was referred to as “the Martha’s Vineyard of the San Juan Islands” by Lissa Snapp, co-founder of Ship Supply.
We drove through thickets of trees down country roads into sprawling lands of green grass and foliage with the occasional house smattered here and about. Finally turning a hard right onto a backroad of two houses behind a gated fence obscured by overgrown vines, described as the home with “prayer flags on front.”
Kissing Fish Farm was the place and we had ceremonially arrived on Lopez Island.
Born and raised locals to Lopez Island, childhood friends Ana Zautke and Lissa Snapp co-founded Ship Supply in 2018.
“Guided by their shared upbringing on a remote island in the Pacific Northwest, and inspired by a deep love and respect for the sea,” as described on their homepage.
Born out of a desire to create authentic wear reflective of who they are and where they are, Lissa and Ana weave their stories into each piece they create.
At the moment, the collection comprises of four core pieces:
The Curtis Top, named and inspired after a family friend who would pay visits to them in his traditional canvas fisherman’s top. My favorite— Beeswaxed Canvas Jacket created to fight the wind and climate of the Pacific Northwest.
The Hemp Sailor set designed after, “… mid-19th century, … French navy… knitted striped shirt as a staple of its sailor’s uniform.”
Then lastly the Work Smock a “historically the smock was used by shepherds, fishermen and artist alike to protect finer garments underneath.”
Every design has a story tied to their life.
But not in the fashion way where designers pander a collection with a self-serving narrative to convey depth where there is none. These items are meant to be lived and worked in. Muddled up and worn out. Epitomized personality dressing. Utilitarian authenticity in honor to home.
All pieces are available on their website: Ship Supply
Instagram: @shipsupply
The burden of the big city sloughed off our jackets through the simple act of communing over an inaugural pasta dinner at Kissing Fish Farm.
It isn’t an understatement when I say us New Yorkers were unexpectedly smitten and full dive-in, won over by Lopez. Objectively, we can be “a bunch of tough critics jaded on life.” Hardened as an occupational hazard.
Idealistic, wide-eyed and open as if experiencing the new for the first time over and over again enriches if you allow it.
It was the first of many communal meals where the true meaning of ‘farm-to-table’ was met.
The most memorable things we ate were local to the island. Grown and made. Collectively enamored by a simple table bread— Barn Owl Bakery. Heritage grain from another century grown on island by local Lopez farmers. Too many Americans have come to villainize bread but I argue it is because they aren’t eating the right kinds.
A ramen dinner at Setsunai Noodle Bar where the story of a secondary bowel act in public left the whole table in a fit. It was only later told to us the town doctor was conveniently sat next to us.
Our farewell dinner outside in the open by Nina Schwarz, and Alaya Battalia of Soil Studio Flowers, not only was a feast for the eyes but also our stomachs. I am only that stuffed and nourished when back home with family.
Community feels ingrained within Lopez culture. With such a small population on a remote island it’s a bit of a given. Though currently, half the properties are used as summer homes.
As days passed we were regaled by local lore.
The Lopez wave. Three fingers casually lifted up from one’s steering wheel distinguishes tourists from natives.
The women fell in love with Captain Patrick of the Blue Jacket. His life story and journey to Lopez is made for the books. I hope he’s doing well out there on the Blue Jacket with his dog, cruising on life.
An undercurrent of, for lack of a better term, “hippie culture”. Living off the land, connection and respect for her. Nostalgic childhood memories of naked dances in nature.
Collectively marveled and grateful to bear witness to a magnetic land beamed with character. Our bodies slowed down mirrored to the environment. Took five am cold plunges by the sea. Tended indoor fires through the night as they slept upstairs. Discovered a hidden zip line in the backwoods re-sparking our inner child.
Verona at home as she was born in similar geography. Rachael one with the Blue Jacket as she grew up on her dad’s boat. David uncovered a side of himself not shown in New York.
Something happens when you break bread. The guise goes away. Preconceived notions fall apart. Stories rise to the top.
Before I left for Lopez, I had ideas of turning the trip into a fun newsletter! adventures outside the city! It is but became more as the story of Lissa & Ana, Ship Supply and Lopez Island unfolded so poetically in front of me.
Thank you for sharing your story with us so we can in turn share it with the world.
The easy thing to believe after a trip like this is to pack your bags, leave everything behind, set sail for the country!
To feed into your insatiable desire to lead a life different from your own.
To poeticize the grass is greener. Wax nostalgic on another era, another life.
As someone who lives in New York, it bustles and consumes, so we believe this is the only alive place. That our reality is the only one, which breeds an inability to see the forest from the trees. We can become detached and ego-based in service to the hustle.
Often, you want to forgo urbanity for the bucolic life.
Perhaps instead it’s about an acknowledgment of other universes, other full lives existing in tandem to yours? Rich, complex and interesting are not singular to cities. A way of being you can respect without narrative reversion to othering? Is there a middle way?
Within everyone, there contains a story.
Be voracious with your curiosity, ask every question possible, go uncover then discover to come back to tell your own.
