My Final Letter from Madrid (and some Jeans)

On friendship, more shopping, and saying good-bye.

Jun 24, 2025

I’m sending this letter a little late and on a Tuesday afternoon because wrapping up life in Madrid has been non-stop and I want to get this out before I land back in Los Angeles.

Let me ask you this: Why does it always feel like the minute you start getting comfortable in a place, it’s time to go?

My last few weeks in Madrid have been the best. This is in no small part due to Giulia, a mom friend from school who I only wish I’d gotten to know sooner. Born in Rome, Giulia has lived in Madrid for almost a decade (her partner is native), and after months of casually chatting at pickup, she and I finally clicked over fiery daughters, our fledgling businesses (see hers @tirabisú_), and a shared love for Madrid’s old-school antiguas, some of which I’d visited, but many I couldn’t really access without the help of a local madrileña.

This is my friend Giulia – mom, tiramisú-maker extraordinaire, and fellow lover of Madrid’s traditional shops and artisans.

This letter is about all of the shops and artisans – new and old – that Giulia introduced me to during our whirlwind walks around the city. Rather than writing a guide, I’m approaching this as an ode, since it is, officially, my last post from Madrid and I feel a need to pay tribute to its gifts. Can you believe how fast 3 months flew by? I truly cannot.

Almacén de Pontejos, a superstore for notions and sewing supplies, has been in business since 1913.

When I love a place, I panic shop before leaving it. And right now I want to devour Madrid, buy hundreds of meters of ribbon from Pontejos, and go home a changed person with a purple flamenco dress, suitcases of alpargatas, and traditional chulapa/o costumes from Maty for my kids to wear on Halloween (they’ll never agree to this). I want to stock up on the most useful things you can own, the stuff sold at the Barquillo bazaar and the fancier homewares shop, Casa Gonzáles & Gonzáles – sponges and wash cloths and reamers and soap – to remind me that, in addition to shopping and dining out, I’ve done dishes and laundry and made salad dressings and beds in Madrid. I’ve lived here. Hell, I’ve made friends. What says you belong somewhere more than your friends?

If there’s a trim, tassel, or tie, Pontejos has it.

The very first place Giulia insisted I see was Almacén de Pontejos, a historic haberdashery founded in 1913, where local ladies and gents still buy their sewing supplies – knitting yarn, buttons, trims, tassels, underpinnings, mending tools – real needlecraft porn, it’s amazing. To purchase something at Pontejos you order it from a station clerk, who then gives you a ticket which you take to the cashier who will hand you your goods once you’ve paid. Had it not been for Giulia, I doubt I would have figured it out. With her help, I bought meters of thick, embroidered seam bindings (to use as gift wrapping), a camisole with exquisite stretchiness (to wear all summer), and tiny buttons shaped like fairies for my daughter who has a very, very wiggly front tooth (to leave with a €2 coin when the time comes).

Shops that have been in business for more than 100 years get a commemorative plaque placed outside the door. This one is for Sombrerería Medrano, hat makers since 1832.

El Ayuntamiento de Madrid (The Madrid City Council) honors businesses like Pontejos that have been operating for over a century with commemorative bronze plaques. Made at Capa Esculturas, they celebrate the city’s cultural legacy of craftspeople, and are utterly charming and fun to find. Once Giulia pointed them out, I started looking for them everywhere.

Together she and I did as much as we could in what little time we had (remember, there are kids, and p.s. she has 3), including the legendary literary restaurant Lhardy (since 1939) and the milliner Sombrerería Medrano (since 1832). We hit the great tapicerías, Casa Silverio (since 1921) and Lucio J&M (newer, but still cool). How I ended up behind the counter at Casa Silverio, I’ll never really know. One minute Giulia was chatting with the jolly shop clerk in Spanish, and the next minute I was standing beside him wielding a ruler and scissors as long as my forearm.

This was how it was exploring Madrid with Giulia. She would start talking and doors would fly open. I mostly had no idea what she was saying – she spoke in the fastest Spanish ever – but whatever it was, it worked. Access was always granted. At one point I joked that together we should start a travel company offering Americans who love local design shopping tours of Spain’s authentic antiguas and ateliers. (Not that I am actually qualified for this job, but I know I’m feeling good when I start dreaming up ways to make what I’m doing my life.) We really had a blast.

At Lucio J&M, trying to figure out how to get it all home with me.

I think it’s interesting I didn’t want to buy clothes in Madrid. And what I did pick up – a Polo cap, drawstring pants from COS, this suede safari jacket – I could have purchased in the States. Until the very end, my own clothes were completely sufficient and provided the ease I needed when daily life was so far outside my comfort zone. The language barrier could make basic things like buying groceries feel hard, for example; my kids didn’t like the food. To have a closet full of deeply familiar and reliable Bode shirts was soothing. One less thing to worry about. I remember when we first arrived, friends would ask me how it was going. My answer was always, “Well, half of me is like WTF have I just done and the other half never wants to leave.” I suppose in many ways I still feel the same.

At Dandelion with Elliot in the background. Bode shirt, jeans.

The clothes I leaned on most in Madrid:

✔️ Jeans: The Only Jane Bob, DL1961 Taylor Barrel, Rachel Comey Handy pants, Paige shorts.

✔️ Pants: Leset’s Kyoto carpenter, COS tapered drawstring trousers.

✔️ Shirts: Bode (various; someone please buy this one), Jesse Kamm.

✔️ Sweaters: Jenni Kayne, Stella McCartney (now on sale!), J.Crew 1988 Rollneck in every color, size S. (All of these sweaters are great for warmer weather and chillier summer nights.)

✔️ T-Shirt: ReDone x Hanes. I have 5 of them.

✔️ Jackets: The Only Jane Trip, MaxMara reversible trench, Nili Lotan suede Mila jacket.

✔️ Other Essentials: Negative Underwear cami and Glacé mini bra, my belts from Andersen’s and Saint Laurent, alpargatas, this Rachel Comey sweatshirt, Jamie Haller sandals, made-in-Spain sneakers, Ancient Greek Sandals jelly flip flops.

At his workshop in the Malasaña neighborhood, Javier makes bull’s heads and other sculptures out of natural fibers like wicker and rattan. I’m wearing the Bob jean. He’s wearing the Carhartt WIP Brando style.

There are two newer artisan shops I must mention before I go. The first is Dandelion, where Elliot curates the most divine selection of still-life-level flowers, and the second is the carpintería of Javier S. Medina, perhaps the most written-about modern maker in Madrid. Go to these shops and it’s pretty much guaranteed that Elliot and Javier will be on-site working and ready to help. Real shopkeeper vibes, I love it so much. There are, at this point, plenty of ways to define luxury. For me, being able to walk into a creative space and buy a creation from its creator is truly one of life’s greatest.

Javier at his studio. He’s currently working on creating a second space where he intends to host artist workshops, dinner parties, and other events that bring craftspeople together from all over the world.

Sigh. Adios, Madrid. You are wonderful and I can’t wait to come back. It’s been so much fun writing this newsletter these past 3 months – thank you all for reading and welcoming the change of content. Those who have encouraged my curiosity, corrected my Spanish, and applauded my efforts in the comments, thank you. I have both loved and needed all of your support. And thank you, Giulia, I miss you already. Until next time and, as always, Denim Forever.

Jane