At the foot of Puigmal, the Pyrenees open up. The mountains step aside to make room for a wide plain, more than a thousand meters above sea level, that the Segre River crosses from end to end. This is Cerdanya: a valley that doesn't run north to south, like almost every other valley in the Pyrenees, but east to west, and so it catches the sun from morning to evening.
In the fall, the plain changes its skin. The meadows turn golden, the poplars along the riverbanks light up in yellow, and the morning air already smells of woodsmoke. Above, the peaks wait for the first snow.
Cerdanya is also a border you can't see. In 1659, the Treaty of the Pyrenees divided the valley between two crowns, and a year later thirty-three villages passed to France. Llívia did not. Its defenders argued that it wasn't a village but a town, a title granted by Charles V, and so it stayed on the Spanish side, surrounded by French fields. It remains so to this day: an island of old streets where you cross the border without noticing.
Today the valley moves at a different pace: stone villages with slate roofs, Romanesque churches, and paths that lead from one bell tower to the next through meadows and old farmhouses.
The piece
The Canigó sweatshirt in French Navy, the deep blue of fall evenings on the plain, when the sun slips away and the meadows fall into shadow. 100% organic cotton with a brushed fleece lining and a relaxed fit: made for cold mornings on the sunny slopes and for heading back to the city without taking it off.