The story that was given to Zora when designing the collaborative capsule collection:
While lending a hand on a merchant vessel, Walter docked at The Port of Olbia, the doorway to Sardinia. The captain had planned it to be a short stop, but his weakness for the bottle and the allure of beautiful woman and fast money meant the ship was put to rest indefinitely.
Left to his own devices, Walter explored the island and ended up settling in Cagliari, the capital city of Sardinia. Enamored with the rich history and ancient mythology, he set about making a home for himself, putting the quest to find his parents on hold. The island was infectious, but nothing grabbed his attention quite as much as Catalina Cantona.
Catalina, a young opera singer, had tumbling dark hair and large bambi eyes. The daughter of the city's most respected cheesemaker and a goat farmer, she had become a sensation in the bustling city. Her voice, a delicate symphony, was rich in tone and texture. Rumour had it that it could help the deaf hear and heal uncomfortable newborns of colic.
Walter was besotted. Enthralled by her beauty and infatuated with her voice.
One night on the way to watch Catalina perform, Walter chanced upon some wild flowers with pretty white petals and long green stems. He gathered a bunch and skipped into the night.
Before taking his seat in the front row of the theatre, Walter used his fountain pen to scribble a note on a scrap of parchment he had.
“You have the voice of an angel - Walter”
He gave the flowers to an attendant and took his seat, eager to watch the performance. It was perfect, a journey of sound like nothing he had experienced ever before.
Unbeknownst to him, a southerly breeze had pushed his parchment from the wild flowers and a maid had mistaken the plant for celery, ready to be made into a fresh summer salad.
Having finished her performance, Catalina arrived in her dressing room and began to wash the thick stage make-up from her dainty face. In front of the mirror, laid out was a simple spread of gnocchi, cheese, salami and salad. She tucked into the food with reckless abandon. It was the last meal she was to ever eat.
No one heard Catalina's silent screams as she gold-fished around, gripping her throat. The flowers Walter had given her, the same ones mistaken for celery, were water dropwort. a highly poisonous plant that had been used to kill criminals and old people incapable of looking after themselves in years gone by. Unable to breathe, Catalina's face contorted into a sardonic grin. Her light extinguished.
“Walter come quick, there's been a tragedy.”
By that time, it was all too late.