You deserve that WOW feeling. Every day.

Do you remember the first time you touched a truly exceptional material? Your hand could hardly believe how soft and delicate it felt — as if the fabric were breathing with you.

Natural materials possess something synthetics can never imitate. They keep you warm when it is cold and cool when it is hot. They adapt to your body, not the other way around. You stay comfortable all day — without itching, sweating or longing to take everything off.

And there is something more: knowing that what you wear has a story. That the fibre passed through the hands of a herder on the Mongolian steppe and was processed with care and respect. That you supported a Czech brand and know the people behind it. All of this makes that WOW feeling even stronger.

That is exactly how we want every JUSTLOVE piece to make you feel.

Because you deserve nothing but the best.

Explore the collections

Our cashmere comes directly from herders in Mongolia. Our alpaca comes from Peru, merino from Australia, silk from India and organic cotton from certified suppliers. We select every material personally, so we can stand behind it. We visit every workshop ourselves, allowing us to guarantee ethical production, fine craftsmanship and fair pay.

My story of a goat and a car

I spent fifteen years in the corporate world. I had a great career and, at the same time, a feeling that it was not truly right for me. I left corporate life, packed a suitcase and flew to Mongolia. And that is where I met her: the goat.

I have always known that I was exceptional. Just like every one of you.

Sometimes exceptionally capable, sometimes exceptionally useless.

Sometimes exceptionally clever, sometimes exceptionally foolish.

Sometimes exceptionally kind and sometimes — quite exceptionally — exceptionally grumpy.

But which adjectives are the right ones for life?

(You will find the answer in Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. You’re welcome!)

 

I always wanted to achieve something exceptional. I wanted to be Steve Jobs. Then I learned that he had denied his daughter, so I changed my mind. I wanted to be Steve Jobs, but with a human face. Something like socialism.

Some people understand quite quickly what matters in life. It took me rather longer. First I studied, then I studied some more, then I raised money, sold things, managed people and, for a while, managed them agilely.

Then one wise person asked me: Is this really what you want to do?

And I knew Steve Jobs was speaking to me: “You’ve got to find what you love!” (It was not actually Steve Jobs; that is just a metaphor.) So I decided to do what I had always wanted and start a fashion brand.

One that would be exceptionally good through and through.

One that would make women and men happier.

One that would change the world for the better — even if only a little.

 

For a moment I thought about my age and the “30 Under 30” lists, then told myself that Dior would not have made them either. I set off for Portugal to find a manufacturer for my first collection and planned a little road trip. It was a fantastic plan.

The plan:

  • Get to Portugal.
  • Hire a car and travel around Portugal.
  • Find a manufacturer to make my first collection.

I landed in Porto and walked into the car-rental office. “Driving licence, please.” I searched for it. I did not have it. You know how we move our cards, money and make-up into tiny evening bags and then back into our large bags? The return journey had not happened. My licence was sitting on the kitchen counter at home. I knew exactly where.

So there we were: me, the Portuguese woman at the desk and my driving licence (sitting at home). I told her — rather dramatically — that I had to achieve something exceptional. She gave me a Mini Cooper and said she had never seen me in her life.

So I drove across half of Portugal in a hired car without my licence and found the manufacturer for my first collection.

Then Covid arrived.

I thought Covid had ended. In Europe it had; in China it had not.

Like the butterfly effect, closed ports in China left global fashion chains without production capacity, and they flooded into Portugal.

Suddenly there was no production time for JUSTLOVE. Time passed and I wondered how we could make our second, autumn collection when the first one had not even been made.

I put my finger on a map where Wikipedia said cashmere goats lived. If the second collection was going to be cashmere, I had to find the cashmere — or rather, the goat. When the plane landed in the middle of the Mongolian steppe with Ulaanbaatar nowhere in sight, I became nervous. But then the brother of a classmate from my university in Japan greeted me at the airport with a lightly accented “Dobrý den” — he had studied in Czechoslovakia in the 1980s — and sat me in a beautiful Mongolian car. I felt at home again.

In the middle of the Mongolian steppe, I found my cashmere goat. She was beautiful and tiny. I held her and thought that I had achieved something exceptional.

And that is how I found the production for my second collection in Mongolia.

But I was wrong.

I had to travel halfway around the world to understand that achieving something exceptional lies in completely ordinary things:

not losing your mind,

not falling apart,

not giving up,

getting up in the morning, drinking your coffee and telling yourself that somehow, you will manage.

That exceptional quality is in every one of us, whatever our story may be.

This is mine.

My story of a car and a goat.

Tell me what we could do better at JUSTLOVE. Or simply write to say hello: zm@just.love