<meta charset="utf-8" />
<p>[row-image-text]</p>
<p>[image]</p>
<p> </p>
<p> <img src="//cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1206/9490/files/EHG_OZMA_Journal_AlainaS_NYC-0062_1024x1024.jpg?v=1560980352" alt="" /></p>
<meta charset="utf-8" />
<p> </p>
<meta charset="utf-8" />
<p><span>THE PAINTER'S JUMPSUIT, Light Silk Linen, Desert</span></p>
<p>  </p>
<p><img src="//cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1206/9490/files/EHG_OZMA_Journal_AlainaS_NYC-0347_1024x1024.jpg?v=1560980577" alt="" /> </p>
<p>THE 1930s BANDANA, Lichen</p>
<meta charset="utf-8" />
<p> </p>
<p><span></span>[end]</p>
<p>[text]</p>
<meta charset="utf-8" /><br />
<h2 class="Body">

OZMA is a California-based collection of elevated basics — vintage-inspired and sustainably-sourced pieces made for a life well-lived.

Inspired by the freedom that comes from being ourselves, we stand for holding tight to the things we love, amplifying what matters and editing out what doesn’t.

We believe in imperfect beauty, simplification, and dreaming up success on our own terms. Taking time to be thoughtful, real, and unapologetically imperfect. We want our clothing to personify a new kind of ideal... And we’re here to connect a world of women who feel the same way.

<b> </b></h2>
<p class="Body">

VINTAGE-INSPIRED, MADE FOR TODAY

We design pieces intended to be treasured without being precious —taken anywhere, lived in. Our garments are made to love: the perfectly worn-in T-shirt you’re always in search of; the jumpsuit you find an excuse to wear anywhere because it’s so comfortable; the quietly chic slip dress that embodies undone ease; the muted silk bandana that’s that extra, undefinable something.

</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="Body">

THE BEAUTY OF IMPERFECTION

Our collections focus on sustainably sourced and biodegradable textiles that celebrate the beauty of imperfection — we gravitate toward natural fabrics made more interesting by their unique character and nuanced texture. Our pieces are designed in an earthy California palette, inspired by the wild, rich beauty of our native state. Every collection reinterprets classic shapes with meticulous attention to fit, quality, and material...created to adapt, get better with age, and wear season after season, year after year.

</p>
<p class="Body"> </p>
<p class="Body">

THE OZMA BANDANA

The OZMA bandana is a timeless canvas for self-expression, at once fundamentally utilitarian and infinitely adaptable. We see it as more than an accessory... the bandana is a symbol that spans generation, place, and culture; it’s a beautiful reminder of how the most simple talismans can be markers of our own individuality.

</p>
<p> </p>
<h2 class="Body">

OUR VALUES

Our company is committed to making garments that not only feel great to wear, but feel great to own. We proudly work only with small factories whose close relationships we depend upon to make beautifully constructed garments in only healthy, positive environments.

<b> </b></h2>
<p>

OUR DESIGNER

OZMA was founded in 2015 by designer Heidi Baker, drawing on 15 years of experience in her industry, including several years as a Senior Designer for Levi’s. Driven by the desire to forge her own path, OZMA was born out of Heidi’s yearning to define success on her own terms, to create a line that supports sustainability and quality in every sense — in material, process, design, and as a way of living.

</p>
<p> </p>
<meta charset="utf-8" />
<p>[end]</p>
<p>[endrow]</p>
<p> </p>
<p>[row-image]</p>
<p>[image]</p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><img alt="" src="//cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1206/9490/files/EHG_OZMA_Journal_AlainaS_NYC-0286_1024x1024.jpg?v=1560981182" style="float: none;" /></p>
<meta charset="utf-8" /><meta charset="utf-8" />
<p>[end]</p>
<p>[endrow]</p>
<p>[row-image-text]</p>
<p>[image]</p>
<p><img src="//cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1206/9490/files/EHG_OZMA_Journal_AlainaS_NYC-0029_1024x1024.jpg?v=1560983986" alt="" /></p>
<meta charset="utf-8" />
<p> </p>
<p><span>THE BOY TANK, Silk Noil, Tea</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><img src="//cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1206/9490/files/EHG_OZMA_Journal_AlainaS_NYC-9858_1024x1024.jpg?v=1560981972" alt="" /></p>
<p> </p>
<meta charset="utf-8" />
<p><span>THE STUDIO TROUSER, Light Silk Linen</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p><span><img src="//cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1206/9490/files/EHG_OZMA_Journal_AlainaS_NYC-9936_1024x1024.jpg?v=1560982770" alt="" /></span></p>
<p class="Body"> </p>
<p><a href="https://ozmaofcalifornia.com/collections/kendra-smoot%0A"> </a></p>
<span></span>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>[end]</p>
<p>[text]</p>
<h2 class="Body">There is no “right” way to be yourself; rarely, if ever is there permanence. But there is process. How have you come to know yourself differently in the past year?<b> </b></h2>
<p>Last year I got hit on the head, literally and figuratively.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a skiing accident, the kind of fall that knocks you out and shakes your brain up like a snow globe so you can't remember the names of the months backwards. (Of course I was wearing a helmet, unfortunately I absorbed all the impact through my eye). Neurologists call it a TBI (traumatic brain injury), which is quite a few notches on the belt above an everyday bump on the head. And the recovery time is TBD -- it's different for everyone. There were a lot of unknowns.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So I found myself at home, putting a hard stop to most parts of the days I knew and the ways I navigated them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damn, it was hard. Recovery is such an energy-intensive process for the brain. Mostly all you can do as a body is rest, and wait. Wait until the ringing in your left ear turns down. Until the vertigo you get every time you stand up passes. Until the blank spots in your memory return. The process of healing was very personal and often lonely. Only I am with and in my body all the time, and no one else could really understand what it was like to feel so broken…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I couldn’t do the job that I had been doing for 6 years. I couldn't go on computers. Or phones. I couldn't read books for a while. I couldn't jog or do yoga. Sometimes I’d forget a word. Sometimes I forgot whole moments. I felt hollow. I felt lost. I felt loved. I felt patient. I felt impatient. I felt waves of strength. I didn’t know when. But I wouldn’t be the same on the other side. Rest was all that mattered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Being suddenly unplugged from the job you know and the Internet and email and screens, and even reading books and the news, is wild to think about in this age. At first it feels vacant. A quiet so big it’s smothering. Your thumbs itch for the default sport they know: scrolling. We crave the "connectivity" we feel by sharing things on social media, with the fabricated notion that there's an audience waiting for us to share "engaging content" about our lives so they can "like" it. But the world in your pocket is not real. What's real is where your feet are. In this huge space outside of the digital collective, I started making things without the influence or expectation of anyone else. How rare that is these days. Why did it take a head injury to know what that’s like again?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I gave into it. I had to. Patience became my mantra. Letting my brain stitch it's wires back together became my priority. My body was driving, I was out of control.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the months afterward, I found the silver lining. I began making art again. I began cooking again. Outlets that physically became accessible and intuitive as I gained strength, and which also happen to be two of my favorite ways to spend my time. I find importance in that irony; that I was physically too sensitive to engage with digital, modern things, but the primal, sensory urges to quietly create and care for myself were never snuffed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I walked a lot. I walked without my headphones in, without my phone on me at all. Complete disconnect from the digital maw. How awakening and liberating that was! My senses were handicapped, but instead of feeling cloudy, I was noticing things around me -- the real things. Beautiful things, ugly things. I learned the face of every tree in the park near my house. Smiled at strangers on the sidewalk. Conversations at the market became cornerstones of my day. I watched the change of seasons. I felt alive, and awake. Things got really simple, distilled down to being.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In this age of digital clutter, with inputs from all directions, what is deep thought? What is a long period of silence really like? Cut off your digital limbs and you’ll find out. I can tell you, it’s the best way to get to know yourself. One thing I've learned about the human condition over the last year: we are tremendously resilient. </p>
<meta charset="utf-8" /><meta charset="utf-8" />
<p> </p>
<h2 class="Body">How we show up (figuratively speaking) anywhere is how we show up everywhere. Do you have a personal philosophy for living that extends across your approach cooking, your work, getting dressed etc?<b> </b></h2>
<p class="Body">First, Simplify. How do you strip something down to its essence and rid the noise? And then, when you pare it down to the functional, how do you create Balance with color, texture, flavor? And finally, when do you throw in something atypical or unexpected? This is how I approach my food, my art, my closet -- with simplicity and delight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>[end]</p>
<p>[text]</p>
<h2></h2>
<p><span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/alasully/?hl=en">https://www.instagram.com/alasully/?hl=en</a></span></p>
<p><span><a href="https://alainasullivan.com/">https://alainasullivan.com/</a></span></p>
<p>[end]</p>
<p>[endrow]</p>

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

New User

By creating an account with our store, you will be able to move through the checkout process faster, store multiple shipping addresses, view and track your orders in your account and more.