| THE EPISTOLARIAN |

There is a particular feeling I have carried with me for years—a sense that certain places hum with the presence of everything that has come before.

I have felt it in quiet, forgotten corners of old houses, in the worn weight of wax seal matrices passed through many hands, in the hush of certain rooms where time itself seems to pool. It’s a feeling of layering, of history not being erased but rewritten, pressed upon itself again and again.

Later, I would learn the word for it: palimpsest.

A palimpsest is a text that has been written over, layer upon layer—never fully erased, but carrying the imprint of every version that came before. And Sicily, I realized, was just that. I had known it to be a place of deep history, but I hadn’t expected how much of it would still feel alive, how the past wouldn’t be something sealed behind museum glass but something woven into the land itself.

I sensed it in Erice, a mountaintop town where we met Rob’s parents the year we were engaged. His father was leading a writing retreat, and though we weren’t participants, we joined them for meals and readings. One evening, in a stark, white-walled room, we listened to a passage about the souls of Sicily—the spirits of those who had walked its land for centuries. I don’t remember the exact words, but I remember the weight of them. It was as if time had collapsed, as if history was not behind us but beside us, folded into the present moment.

From Erice, we traveled on. In Favignana, we swam in rocky coves where the sea had spent centuries carving its own language into the cliffs. In Ragusa, we stayed in an old palazzo where footsteps seemed to echo even when no one was walking. The air held something—dust, salt, the trace of voices long since quieted. Everywhere, I felt the presence of those who had come before—the Greeks, the Romans, the Arabs, the Normans. None of them had vanished. They had simply become part of the land.

Even the food felt like a kind of memory. You bite in, expecting the sharp burst of citrus, the bright acidity of an orange. But instead, your teeth sink into something dense and yielding—marzipan, smooth and sweet on the tongue. The almond richness unfolds slowly, lingering like a Christmas confection melting in the warmth of a candlelit room.

I didn’t know it then, but that feeling would return years later as I stood on the edge of bringing the first Hastings Étui into the world.

For nearly a year, I sat with it. The hardest part was done. I had designed the handles, perfected them, even manufactured the first ninety-nine. They sat, waiting, the project resting in that strange space between almost-done and not-yet-real.

And yet, when the moment arrived, I hesitated.

Because launching the Étui was not about selling an object. It was a commitment to something far larger than myself.

I realized then that moving forward didn’t feel like making a mark on history—it felt like taking a vow. A vow that I was committing to this fully, stepping into something that would carry on long after me. A vow that, once made, could not be undone.

And so I stepped forward.

Now, we are in a new first. The first Hastings Étui penny. A smaller first, but a first all the same.

Like a wedding day, it carries the anticipation, the excitement, and the bittersweet knowing that it is fleeting. Already, it is slipping into the past.

That’s the nature of collector’s pieces. The first ones disappear quickly—claimed, tucked away, held close. And soon after, people search for them, wishing they had known sooner, longing for something that can no longer be found.

If you want to be part of this moment, now is the time.

There will never be another first Hastings Étui penny. And when they are gone, they will not return.

But I also know this: this object will be held by hands long after ours are gone.

Future collectors will think of us as we think of them. They will wonder who we were, just as we wonder about those before us. They will press these seals for their loved ones, just as we do now, pausing for a moment of reflection before the wax cools.

And though our lives may never overlap, we will have touched the same thing. The Hastings Étui and its first penny will be a handshake between us. A quiet, steady bridge across time. A palimpsest, not just of wax and metal, but of letters, of small gestures, of contemplation itself.

Some things don’t vanish. They stay, layered beneath what comes next.

And long after this moment fades, they will remain.

New Pennies on Each New Moon

This year, I’m releasing new Kathryn Hastings pennies on each new moon, aligning these special editions with cycles of renewal, intention, and quiet transformation. The lunar calendar is one of the few rhythms that belongs to everyone—across time zones, borders, and traditions, the new moon is a universal moment of beginning.

Here are the upcoming new moon release dates for 2025:

 February 27​
 March 29​
 April 27​
 May 26​
 June 25​
 July 24​
 August 23​
 September 21​
 October 21​
 November 20​
 December 19

There may be other key moments throughout the year, but these lunar cycles serve as anchor points—times to unveil something new, steeped in history yet meant for the present.

Just 30 Left: The Fidélité Penny

With only 49 pieces created, the Fidélité Penny is an exquisite keepsake for Valentine’s Day—a token of love, loyalty, and devotion. Now, with just 30 remaining, this is your chance to own the first release in the Kathryn Hastings Étui collection.

Shipments will go out by February 10th—just in time for a heartfelt celebration.

This two-sided design tells a story of faithfulness and enduring love:

 Obverse: A cherub rides a Weimaraner beneath the inscription La Fidélité Me Conduit (“Faithfulness guides me”). The cherub—a symbol of love—is guided by the loyal dog, an allegory of trust and unwavering devotion. This motif holds deep personal significance to me, as it echoes the very first Collector’s Seal I ever created.

 Reverse: A finely detailed, delicate bow, a symbol of affection and unity.

Now is the time to secure one of the last remaining Fidélité Pennies. Once these 30 are sold, there will never be another first edition.

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Color of the Week: Sicilia

I have renamed the Meyer Lemon color to Sicilia. Inspired by the golden warmth of Sicily, Sicilia Sealing Wax captures the essence of this storied island—where citrus groves perfume the air, ancient ruins whisper their histories, and the sea glows beneath the Mediterranean sun.

Sterling Silver Wax Seal Jewelry – A New Course is Coming!

I’ve recently discovered the magic of turning wax seals into sterling silver jewelry, and I’m thrilled to share this simple yet stunning process with you! With just a few tools and silver clay, you can transform your favorite seals into real sterling silver pendants, wine glass charms, and more—beautiful, heirloom-quality pieces that hold deep personal meaning.

To make this accessible to everyone, I’ve created a short, hands-on course that covers everything from supplies to finishing techniques. Whether you want to wear your favorite seal, create meaningful gifts, or share your collection in a whole new way, this course will guide you step by step.

 Launches February 10th – but pre-orders are open now with a discounted tuition! Secure your spot and be among the first to explore this timeless craft.

With love and gratitude,

Kathryn