sapunablog

I’ve moved the blog to R Tramble. Please see this post for the reasons behind the move and name change.

The owner of the papeterie called me. She could order the exact paper pattern that I wrap the soaps in for me, but at a minimum that was way out of my budget.

I’m talking out there with Pluto.

But, she said that she had new paper patterns coming in from the same place that I may like. She promised to call me once they arrived.

And she likes my soap.:-)

I’m taking these bars to the papeterie tomorrow. Hopefully seeing the goods in action will convince the owner to restock my beautiful handmadehandcut Italian paper.

Zurich perfumer Andy Tauer has an interesting post on his issues with sourcing ingredients.

The market for high quality essential oils, absolutes, resins and delicate synthetics is being grazed these days. The best quality goes to China. Yep. Because they buy a lot, and more and even more. Thus, buyers who used to be served with priority in the past because they were good buyers, find themselves second tier or third tier, fighting for high quality oils with companies such as Givaudan or IFF or others.

I’ve been lucky, I guess merely because I’m using small quantitites. But seeing what major perfumers have to go through in terms of sourcing is interesting, but a tad bit frightening, to say the least.

I was so happy today when I left work. I’d set out to continue on my artisan path.

To buy more of my paper. My handcut, Italian paper.

It’s what I package my soap bars in.

I walked down the stairs from my office, down to Seilergraben, then across the street to Chorgasse, then to Predigergasse.

To buy more of my paper. My handcut, Italian paper.

When I made it to the paperterei I was on a cloud. Walking through the Niederdorf does that to me. All of the little shops. The hatmakers. The woodworkers. The jewelrymakers.

I want to be one of them.

Walking through the Niederdorf does that to me.

So I walked to the paperterei.

To buy more of my paper. My handcut, Italian paper.

I turned the doorknob and opened the door. The tinkle of the bell on the door welcomed me.

I said “Gruezi” and made my way to the shelf that held my paper.

My handcut, Italian paper.

That I package my soap bars in.

The soap bars I make for you.

The shelf was empty. For all intents and purposes.

My paper was gone. Probably sold in the Christmas rush.

My heart dropped. Dropped.

But I saw what could be a reasonable alternative. The paper maps pictured above. The woman who sold them to me wasn’t the owner. I’ve chatted with the owner, but I haven’t seen her in a while.

The maps will do. But I want my paper. My handcut, Italian paper.

The supply chain in Switzerland, or maybe just Zurich, is interesting. When something is gone, it’s gone. Until the owner decides to order it again.

I have a few bars of soap left. Wrapped in my handcut, Italian paper.

I will take them to the paperterei tomorrow.

And I will ask the woman there, in the best German an Ausländerin can pull from her soul: “Können Sie mir helfen? Ich liebe Ihre italianisch Papier. Können Sie für mir bestellen…bitte?

“Ich mache Seifen. Ich bin eine Handwerkerin.”

Handwerkerin. I don’t think ‘artisan’ translates.