At night the light shifts.
The restaurant, the bar, the room where music plays low and the conversation goes long.
Then comes the other part of his day.
The door closes behind him.
The city stays outside.
The jacket comes off.
The sofa receives him. Soft carpet underfoot.
A record plays at the right volume.
Plants in the corner, alive and unhurried, doing what they do regardless of the pace outside.
The light is warm.
The silence is not empty, it is full of everything the day was.

He is still wearing MIMIR pieces. The same organic cotton, now worn differently. The same weight of fabric, now felt as comfort rather than structure. Because our garments are conceived for the full length of a day, from the sharp focus of the morning to the deep exhale of the evening.
Because MIMIR does not make clothes for occasions, it makes clothes for people.

Clean lines that read sharp both under fluorescent light and under candlelight.
Materials that move, breathe and settle through the full day without losing their form.
The MIMIR man does not adapt his wardrobe to his life. His wardrobe was built from the first seam to keep pace with him. From the first hour to the last.