My earliest memories of style start with my mother. Every morning, she got dressed for work in heels and pantyhose, crisp white blouses tucked into Geiger skirt-and-jacket sets. She looked so composed. Elegant in that quiet, deliberate way. But by the end of the day? She’d be home, changing into jeans and hopping into our beat-up truck to plow the driveway, stack wood, and make dinner. She raised two kids, ran a household, and never once acted like any part of her life didn’t belong beside the other.
That balance, of polish and practicality, of strength and softness, laid the foundation for how I think about style even now.
As I got older, I noticed other women who carried that same energy. Two stand out clearly in my mind.
There was Anne, a longtime customer at my mother’s store. She had presence—red lipstick, elegant blouses, and a kind of charm that made you want to stand a little straighter. I remember her telling me once, “If you’re going to wear red lipstick and speak French, wear cream, not white. White shows every wrinkle.” She wasn’t wrong. But what made Anne unforgettable wasn’t just her polish, it was her wit. She spent her afternoons in a porch rocker with a BB gun in her lap, lying in wait for the red squirrel she was locked in battle with. Grace and grit, rolled into one.
And then there was Patti. Always in pearls (or maybe just in the image I held onto of her?), always hosting the most beautiful Christmas parties. But she was also a boy mom who welcomed us to the pond, handed out hot cocoa on snow days, and let us play hours of pond hockey in her backyard. She made everyone feel like they belonged. She didn’t dress to impress, she dressed in a way that honored her day, her body, and her generous spirit. And she made it all look easy.
These women, and others like them, shaped my idea of what it means to be classic. Their elegance wasn’t about chasing trends or striving for perfection. It came from knowing who they were. They wore beautiful, lasting pieces that allowed them to live fully in their roles, whether that meant hosting a dinner party or chopping wood.
And that, to me, is where FLAX’s white linen comes in.
It’s clean and confident. It holds history and possibility. Whether worn head-to-toe or layered with cream and natural textures, it always feels timeless. It doesn’t demand attention, but it earns it. Like the women I looked up to, white linen is composed but never cold. Refined, but never rigid.
Some styles naturally shine in white linen. A simple tank or sleeveless shell feels fresh and effortless. A crisp button-down blouse gives that instant sense of polish, no matter what you pair it with. Long, beachy pants in white have a sort of quiet luxury to them, breezy but never sloppy. And shapely dresses in white linen? They're always classic, always flattering, and somehow always just right. These are the pieces that speak for themselves and stay in your closet for years.
At FLAX, we believe in that kind of dressing. Our white linen is made in Europe by skilled hands we’ve trusted for decades. It’s soft yet strong, and yes, by the grace of Tide sticks and bleach pens, white linen can absolutely be part of your real life.
We love it so much we’ve made it easy to shop by color on our site, with dedicated spreads showcasing this beloved neutral in all its forms. Because it’s not just a seasonal trend, it’s something we come back to, year after year.
So here’s to the women who showed us how to blend elegance and effort, polish and practicality. The ones who wore heels to work and boots in the driveway. Who made style feel strong, accessible, and deeply personal.
And here’s to white linen, for all it represents, and all it lets us be.
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