Transmission according to Nam – A story of thread, time and family
On Grandmothers' Day, Nam shares her personal story: a silent legacy, woven from time, sewing and family.
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With Grandmothers' Day approaching, I wanted to share with you what the word ‘transmission’ means to me on a deep level.
There are some things that we are not really taught.
Things that cannot be conveyed through words or formal lessons.
They are transmitted in other ways. In silence. Through the time we share together.
When I think of transmission, I think first of my grandmother.
She lived right next door to us in Orléans. I spent entire afternoons there with my cousins, playing in the garden and building huts. We were a large family, a bunch of children raised in the countryside, on the banks of the Loire. It was freedom. We were trusted. We were allowed to make up our own days.
I can't even remember exactly how old I was, or what days it was. My memories are blurred... but the legacy is very clear. I don't remember a specific scene, and yet I know everything I received.
At her house, there was a sewing machine.
A piano.
Thread, needles, fabrics.
And above all, time.
There are some things that we are not really taught.
Things that cannot be conveyed through words or formal lessons.
They are transmitted in other ways. In silence. Through the time we share together.
When I think of transmission, I think first of my grandmother.
She lived right next door to us in Orléans. I spent entire afternoons there with my cousins, playing in the garden and building huts. We were a large family, a bunch of children raised in the countryside, on the banks of the Loire. It was freedom. We were trusted. We were allowed to make up our own days.
I can't even remember exactly how old I was, or what days it was. My memories are blurred... but the legacy is very clear. I don't remember a specific scene, and yet I know everything I received.
At her house, there was a sewing machine.
A piano.
Thread, needles, fabrics.
And above all, time.
She never said to me, ‘I'm going to teach you how to sew’ or ‘I'm going to pass something on to you’. She did things, I watched and I tried. And without knowing it, I was already absorbing all that creativity.
That's how I learned to sew, knit, crochet. To play the piano. To create. It wasn't a conscious transmission. It was a presence. A freedom. A confidence.
Later, when I earned my first wages, the very first things I bought myself were... a sewing machine and a piano.
Like an invisible thread that continued to unravel.
Looking back, I realise how important and decisive those moments were in my career. I sincerely believe that without that childhood surrounded by my grandmother, within that large family, Papa Pique et Maman Coud would probably not exist today.
I always wanted the company to grow like a family, not just as a chain of shops. I wanted it to develop through projects led by people, with confidence and kindness. Perhaps that spirit also comes from there.
That's how I learned to sew, knit, crochet. To play the piano. To create. It wasn't a conscious transmission. It was a presence. A freedom. A confidence.
Later, when I earned my first wages, the very first things I bought myself were... a sewing machine and a piano.
Like an invisible thread that continued to unravel.
Looking back, I realise how important and decisive those moments were in my career. I sincerely believe that without that childhood surrounded by my grandmother, within that large family, Papa Pique et Maman Coud would probably not exist today.
I always wanted the company to grow like a family, not just as a chain of shops. I wanted it to develop through projects led by people, with confidence and kindness. Perhaps that spirit also comes from there.
Today, I am a grandmother myself. I love large family gatherings and those I experience with the PPMC team.
And for the past few years, with my granddaughter, I've wanted to slow down. To take this precious time and give it to her, just as my grandmother gave it to me. To pass on to her the creativity that shaped me... and which I myself want to reconnect with.
Time...
To sew together.
To play a few notes on the piano.
To paint, create, try things out.
Just to make her want to do it.
Without imposing. Letting curiosity arise.
Because I believe that's what passing things on is all about:
doing, and letting the other person come to it.
And for the past few years, with my granddaughter, I've wanted to slow down. To take this precious time and give it to her, just as my grandmother gave it to me. To pass on to her the creativity that shaped me... and which I myself want to reconnect with.
Time...
To sew together.
To play a few notes on the piano.
To paint, create, try things out.
Just to make her want to do it.
Without imposing. Letting curiosity arise.
Because I believe that's what passing things on is all about:
doing, and letting the other person come to it.
At Papa Pique et Maman Coud, this idea of connection, of shared time, of silent transmission, has always been there.
In the workshops, in the shops, in human relationships.
A story of thread, really.
A thread that we receive, hold for a moment... and then pass on in turn.
And perhaps one day, in 20 years' time, my granddaughter will also tell the story of how her grandmother had a sewing machine...
And lots of time.
Nam Pham, Creator of Papa Pique et Maman Coud
In the workshops, in the shops, in human relationships.
A story of thread, really.
A thread that we receive, hold for a moment... and then pass on in turn.
And perhaps one day, in 20 years' time, my granddaughter will also tell the story of how her grandmother had a sewing machine...
And lots of time.
Nam Pham, Creator of Papa Pique et Maman Coud