I was born in Gilgit-Baltistan, in northern Pakistan, where winters are long, and wool is not a luxury; it is survival.
My earliest memories are of my mother and grandmother sitting side by side, spinning and knitting natural wool into sweaters that carried
warmth far beyond temperature. The scent of raw fibre. The steady rhythm of their hands. The patience of making something slowly, at home.
At the time, it felt ordinary.
As I grew older, glossy brands replaced handwoven textures. Synthetic fibres became normal. Convenience replaced craft, and I moved with that
shift without questioning it.
Years later, during my journey with subfertility, I began learning more about how synthetic materials and chemical treatments can affect the body.
That discovery led me to a question that stopped me:
What am I actually wearing every day?
When I looked at my wardrobe, I realized how little I knew. Labels were unclear. Fabric blends were hidden or vaguely described. Transparency was rare.
And suddenly, I remembered the women in my family, their wool, their cotton, their honesty. Nothing synthetic. Nothing concealed.
Just natural fibres worn with trust.
What once felt old-fashioned revealed itself as wisdom.
Gooni is my return to that clarity.
To natural materials.
To heritage.
To clothing that respects the body, the maker, and the earth.