A Blanket That Was Never Meant to Be a Business

Everloom began with something I missed.

When I moved from Turkey to Los Angeles for my master's degree, one of the smallest differences between the two places became one of the most noticeable to me: I stopped seeing cats everywhere.

In Turkey, cats are simply part of everyday life. They sleep outside cafés, wander through neighborhoods, sit beside you while you drink your coffee, and somehow become familiar faces even when they belong to no one in particular. You rarely go through an entire day without seeing one.

In Los Angeles, their absence felt strange.

I talked about it often on video calls with my family back home. Eventually, my sister decided to do something about it.

She knew how to crochet, so she made me a blanket covered in little cats — each one crocheted by hand — and sent it from Turkey to Los Angeles with a friend who was visiting.

It was never supposed to become a product.

It was simply something my sister made for me because she knew I missed home.

Then Something Unexpected Happened

I loved the blanket immediately. I used it, wrapped myself in it, and took it with me sometimes.

The very next day, we went to an outdoor jazz concert near Urban Light on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles. People were sitting on the grass, having picnics and listening to music, and I had my new blanket with me.

People started stopping me.

They wanted to know where it came from. They asked where they could buy one. A few even offered to buy the blanket from me there.

I couldn't sell it. It meant too much to me.

But that evening, a fashion designer couple sitting nearby started a conversation with me about the piece. They told me there could be something much bigger in what my sister had created.

That conversation stayed with me.

I called my sister and asked a simple question:

Could we actually make these for other people?

From One Pair of Hands to Many

That question eventually became Everloom.

What started with my sister has grown into a small network of women around her in Turkey — friends, neighbors, homemakers and experienced craftspeople who know how to knit and crochet by hand.

Every Everloom piece takes time.

A single blanket represents approximately 90 hours of craftsmanship. Square by square, figure by figure, different hands contribute to something that will eventually travel thousands of miles and become part of someone else's home.

For the women who make them, that work also creates an opportunity to earn additional income through a craft they already know deeply.

So when someone chooses Everloom, they aren't purchasing something that came anonymously from a production line.

There are real people behind it.

Real hands.

Real hours.

And a story that began with one blanket traveling from Turkey to Los Angeles.

Beautiful Things Take Time

We don't want Everloom to become a place where things are made as quickly as possible.

We want to make objects people become attached to.

Things that live on sofas, travel to picnics, keep someone warm on a quiet morning, move from one home to another, and collect stories along the way.

The first Everloom blanket did exactly that.

Everything we make begins from the same idea.

Beautiful things take time.