Sourcing in Morocco: Behind the Scenes at Maud Interiors

Tea with Aziz and eleven red boxes

Some trips begin with a new blanket design to test, pieces to source for a trade client or a lead to a new artisan.  Things rarely go according to plan.  Meetings often start later than arranged, samples may not be ready and communication takes time when we do not share a first language. There are false starts, long waits and plenty of wrong turns.

I have been visiting Morocco for more than 25 years.  For the past 12 years, these trips have been part of my work: developing handwoven blankets with weavers in the Marrakech-Safi region, checking new designs and colours, searching for artisans to collaborate with and sourcing vintage textiles and handmade objects.

Finding artisans—and building working relationships once I do—cannot be rushed. Over the years, I have learnt not to panic when a work trip begins to unravel, but to slow down, remain flexible and trust that progress will come.

The compensation is that the unscripted hours often bring their own rewards. Some of my most memorable encounters have happened when I am exploring an unfamiliar part of the Marrakech medina, the temperature is above 40°C, and I have completely lost my bearings.

Camel medicine and a wedding invitation

A few summers ago, on my final day in Marrakech, I was in the souks searching for a workshop before my flight home that evening.  It was 45C.

One wrong turn led to several, and by midday I found myself alone in a part of the souks I didn’t recognise.  As I tried to work out how to get back to my riad, a man came running out of a jewellery shop, waving a piece of paper and asking whether I spoke English.

His name was Aziz, and he asked if I could help him write a letter in English to his friend, Mike, a vet, who had sent him medication for his sick camel.

That is how I came to spend the next two hours drinking hot, sweet mint tea and writing to Mike.  The letter thanked him for the medicine, updated him on the camel’s condition – tricky, as I knew nothing about camels and ailments are difficult to translate – and invited him to the desert that September for the wedding of Aziz’s sister, Fatima.

Life in the Sahara desert

Between sentences, Aziz told me about his life between Marrakech and the desert.  He and his brothers take turns running the shop, selling silver jewellery made by his community.  When he isn’t in Marrakech, he returns home to care for their herds of camels and goats and to lead desert tours.

Aziz’s eyes lit up as he described life in the desert, away from electricity, running water, and the constant noise of the city.  He explained the importance of camels to living and travelling in an environment where water is scarce, and attempted to teach me how to navigate in the dark without a map or a compass.  Camels are essential to the method, so it’s not something I can put into practice.

I left with an invitation to Fatima’s wedding.  I was unable to return for it, but the invitation – and Aziz’s stories of the desert have stayed with me, and I hope to make a desert tour one day.

A flash of red

Last summer, I was on my way to visit an artisan we had just started working with – and whose work I hope to be able to share with you very soon – when another succession of wrong turns in the 47C heat led me towards the Souk d’Antiquities.

I was hot, thirsty and lost, so I stepped inside a fondouk, filled with antique shops, to ask for directions.  Once inside, of course, I had to take a look.

In one tiny shop full of silver jewellery, I sat down with some water and noticed a flash of red: 11 small leather boxes.

They were vintage pieces from the Sahara, made and hand-decorated by women in the desert, from camel leather.  Each piece had its own unique abstract pattern in red, yellow and black.

I had entered the fondouk simply to ask for directions, but sourcing relies on curiosity, a willingness to explore and remaining alert to the unexpected.

Discovering the boxes was accidental; appreciating their design was not.  Completely individual, the bold geometry made them ideal for modern interiors.  So naturally, I bought all 11.

The shop belonged to Mustafa and his brothers, also from the desert.  Mustafa is now someone I make a point of visiting whenever I return to Marrakech.

Neither afternoon began promisingly.  On both occasions, I was overheating, lost and meant to be somewhere else.  Yet one brought mint tea, an insight into nomadic life and an invitation to Fatima’s wedding; the other, 11 red leather boxes and a new contact, Mustafa.

The frustrations of sourcing are real: the heat, delays and false starts.  But the rewards – the conversations, relationships and discoveries more than make up for it.

Alongside unexpected finds like these red leather trinket boxes, our work in Morocco includes longstanding creative collaborations. We design our handwoven blankets in London and work with weavers in Morocco to bring them to life—another part of the sourcing notebook.

The finished photographs show the textiles and objects I bring home, but not the people, places and unexpected turns behind them.  Over the coming months, I will share more of my journeys, encounters and discoveries.