I Bought Some Moroccan Rugs
Lessons in art, design, history, and life
Howdy and welcome to another Friday Cabins, your #1 newsletter for dreamy leisure architecture. To cap off each work week and send you into the void with a little morsel of inspiration, each Friday I share a favorite cabin project from around the world that strikes gold in the category of good design in the great outdoors. Only last Friday I didn’t send a newsletter, because I was in Morocco, buying rugs (among other activities).
And this week’s newsletter isn’t about cabins, but rugs. Hope you find it fun :)
Welcome to Friday Carpets!
My Moroccan rug origin story starts with a good old fashioned press trip. If you’re not familiar with press trips, here’s the quick and dirty: One or multiple brands pools together marketing budget to send one or multiple magazine editors (or influencers, youtubers, podcasters, etc) to a cool destination to do activities and test their product and later write/post about it. Nobody makes money in media, but often we get free stuff and sometimes we get to go cool places. We ain’t buying homes, but if you need a new HydroFlask, I got you.
This time around, the cool place was Morocco and the free stuff was adventure cycling apparel provided by Swedish outdoors brand Fjallraven, among others. I was there representing Field Mag, the publication I run when I’m not writing this newsletter. Below is a pic of your boy pedaling in the literal Sahara desert. It was a wild few days. Glad I didn’t die.
After the press trip wrapped, I snuck in a quick surf trip to the coast with old friend/trip organizer James Nixon. He’s a good dude and a good surfer. We both caught some waves. It was sick. But that’s enough of the non-rug talk. In the final hours of our trip, during our 4+ hour taxi ride back to Marrakech for our last night, we spotted a Kasbah adorned with big ass rugs. So we pulled over in the middle of seemingly nowhere, got out, and walked into a wonderful place.
A number of people appeared out of nowhere, wiping sleep from their eyes. We were just a couple days after the end of Ramadan and the exhaustion from a month of fasting (and a day or two of partying) was evident. But their spirits quickly brightened as soon as they saw two gringos in search of souvenirs.
I was in the mood to barter so the vibes only kept elevating. Immediately we got into it, in the best way.
Immediately rugs began to be pulled out and put on display. And our education began. All rugs were woven by Berber women, the non-Arab indigenous population of Morocco, using mainly handspun sheep wool, goat and camel hair. Colors are natural, dyed with organic materials like cobalt, indigo, saffron, cumin, cumin, ginger, turmeric, and others I can’t remember.
The designs are dictated by the different Berber groups—I found myself most drawn to the abstract iconography of the Nomad people who have for centuries roamed the Sahara raising sheep, goats, and camels, and in more recent generations have turned to farming in the adjacent mountain regions. Their expert and purposefully irregular weaving symbolizes their independence from the urban areas and its largely Arab population.
Below are two beautiful examples of nomadic design, with the left getting its blue hue from indigo, and the right cobalt (which is mined in the Atlas Mountains, where we were cycling).
The dealer said the distinct designs are often freestyled by the craftswomen, line by line, and often employ both hand stitching and loom weaving. The asymmetrical fringe was admittedly a little unattractive to me at first, but I came around after the dealer (Hassan, by now my good friend of course) explained that the fringe represents life continuing on in many directions but only forward.
A great deal of other symbolism was explained that has since escaped my screen-smoothed brain. But rest assured, it’s all good stuff that made a sale even more imminent.
A half an hour of browsing later I settled on a very large cobalt blue Nomad rug, which reportedly had taken the makers six months to complete, working a couple hours a day. At roughly 10’ x 13’ it was literally too big for my apartment, but I felt like I might as well shoot the moon and bring home something truly unique. An aspirational purchase, if you will.
After more banter and some playful jabs we got down to brass tacks: price.
Hassan went high. I went low. He growled. And the volley began. I then threw a curveball—add the minimalist white sheepskin rug, made entirely of black and white sheep’s wool, also by Nomad weavers. Excited, we continued. At roughly half his original ask and up a rug, we shook hands. “I’m happy with this deal,” I said as clear as day to wrap things up in typical American fashion.
Hassan, who himself is Berber Nomad, turned and said, “Deal or no deal, I’m happy. It’s not a matter of business, but of choice. Everyday I am happy.”
Below is Hassan’s business card. He requested we “make propaganda” about his operation to help him and the Berber women that make these beautiful works of art. Next time you’re in Morocco, look him up. (And yes, he takes AmEx.)
Have a nice weekend. Chose happy.
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Heck yeah this was a fun read. Made me want to visit Morocco and get a rug. Hassan sounds awesome
What an epic adventure story to go along with an heirloom to pass down for generations. Thanks for sharing! Good things :)