June 25, 2025
Summer Farniente with Nina Davidson
For our latest collection, Summer Fariente, we wanted to celebrate the quiet joy found in slow, simple moments—the kind that often unfold naturally, without effort or expectation. To bring this mood to life, we teamed up with photographer Nina Davidson, whose poetic eye and gentle approach to storytelling produced captures of pure magic.
1. Tell us a bit about yourself and where you live.
I'm Nina, a photographer and storyteller living in the Scottish countryside, surrounded by wild hills, dense woodland, and untamed skies. We live off a quiet track, where the weather changes by the hour and the air always smells of earth and moss. I share this corner of the world with my partner and our four girls, and together we try to live gently and close to nature.
I'm Nina, a photographer and storyteller living in the Scottish countryside, surrounded by wild hills, dense woodland, and untamed skies. We live off a quiet track, where the weather changes by the hour and the air always smells of earth and moss. I share this corner of the world with my partner and our four girls, and together we try to live gently and close to nature.
2. The idea of Dolce Far Niente—the sweetness of doing nothing—feels so human and is anchored in simplicity and stillness. What does that concept mean to you in your own life as a mother and creative?As a mother and someone deeply connected to the rhythms of the land, Dolce Far Niente is about allowing space—for breath, for wandering, for noticing. It’s in the pauses: lying on the grass watching clouds drift, sitting by the fire with no agenda, listening to birdsong with my children by my side. That stillness isn’t just restful, it’s essential. It reconnects me to what matters and allows creativity to arise from a place of honesty rather than urgency.
3. What drew you to the river and boat setting for this shoot?
The river near our home has always felt like a quiet secret, hidden among the trees, slow-moving, reflective. There’s something ancient and soothing about water that makes it the perfect place for unguarded, natural moments. The boat added a gentle narrative: drifting, surrendering, and letting go. It felt right for a collection rooted in softness and slowness.
The river near our home has always felt like a quiet secret, hidden among the trees, slow-moving, reflective. There’s something ancient and soothing about water that makes it the perfect place for unguarded, natural moments. The boat added a gentle narrative: drifting, surrendering, and letting go. It felt right for a collection rooted in softness and slowness.
4. If you could bottle the feeling of Dolce Far Niente, what would it look like visually—and how did you try to capture that in this project?
It would look like golden light flickering through leaves, linen dresses fluttering in the breeze, children lost in their own world, and the hum of insects in tall grass. In this project, I aimed to hold onto that sense of dreamy ease, of time stretching out, of nothing needing to happen except being. I wanted each frame to feel like an exhale.
It would look like golden light flickering through leaves, linen dresses fluttering in the breeze, children lost in their own world, and the hum of insects in tall grass. In this project, I aimed to hold onto that sense of dreamy ease, of time stretching out, of nothing needing to happen except being. I wanted each frame to feel like an exhale.
5. Which is your favourite capture from that day and why?
There’s one frame where the boat is gently turning, the water still, and a child is simply looking out, completely at peace. It’s quiet and understated, but it holds everything I hoped to express: the beauty of a moment that asks for nothing. That kind of stillness is rare, and fleeting, and I feel grateful to have caught it.
There’s one frame where the boat is gently turning, the water still, and a child is simply looking out, completely at peace. It’s quiet and understated, but it holds everything I hoped to express: the beauty of a moment that asks for nothing. That kind of stillness is rare, and fleeting, and I feel grateful to have caught it.
