Ride the Flow
Where Color Runs Wild in Places Unexpected.
Strap Down the Flow
Color Surge
Dye Burn-In
Rinse it Raw
If you don’t understand how that binding grips, you’re just throwin’ dye on a wild mane and hopin’ it sticks. A solid hold takes time—loose and it’ll bleed out faster than a busted canteen. Go in blind, and you’ll end up with blotches and regret.
You gotta guide that dye like smoke through mesquite—slow, steady, and with purpose. Push too hard and you drown the fold’s soul; too soft and the color won’t even tip its hat. It’s like feedin’ a mule—wrong pressure, and you’re gettin’ kicked.
Let it soak like a rattler in the sun—longer it sits, deeper it bites. Want bold? Crank the heat and give it time. Want soft? Ease off and let it whisper.
When cured like a ham, rinse out that soda ash like you’re flushin’ dust off the truck—keeps the dye from runnin’ wild. Then heat it up hotter than a tin roof in July to chase out the stubborn bits. Finish with a hot wash, no perfume, no nonsense, and dry it low and slow—like jerky in a shade shack.
Mind the Bind
Where the bind grips tight, dye time rides deep.
Rush the Wet
Just ’cause it looks soaked don’t mean it’s settled—some binds hold tight, some spit the wet out like bad whiskey. Rush the wet and you’ll end up with color that fades faster than a promise in a poker game—grip’s what tells the truth.
Don’t rush the rust.
You rush the wet, you rob the dye of its story—let it wander, let it settle, like whiskey finding its fire. Good color don’t come from pushin’—it comes from patience, like a sunset that don’t give a damn about your schedule.
Let It Sink
Rush the wet, and you’ll end up with a mess slicker than a spilled oil pan—good saturation don’t come from speed, it comes from patience and grit. Let that dye sink in like rain on cracked earth—too fast and it runs off, but slow and steady, it soaks deep and holds true.
Soak Smart
Unsaturated fabric’s like a half-hearted handshake—damp, dull, and forgettable; but when the dye’s had its time, it shines like a fresh oil slick on sunbaked asphalt. Rush it, and you’ll get patchy and pale—let it soak proper, and that fabric’ll gleam like a rattlesnake’s back in high noon light.
Push the Color
Ride the Surge — Let that dye buck through every fold.
Cold Water Irrigation (CWI)
Cold water irrigation’s like lettin’ color seep into fabric slow and cool—no heat, no rush, just a steady light stream of soak. You lay the dye down, then flood it with cold water to push it deep, lettin’ the bind do the heavy lift while the color settles in like dust on a desert boot.
Hot Water Irrigation (HWI)
Hot water irrigation’s like lettin’ color seep into fabric slow with hot water - no rush, just a steady light stream of soak. You lay the dye down, then flood it with hot water to push it deep, lettin’ the bind do the heavy lift while you get the moistened warm up.
Dye Over Ice (Ice Dye)
Ice dyein’ ain’t your average splash-n-go — it’s a slow melt that drips color through the fabric like a glacier carving a canyon. You pile on the ice, scatter the dye, and let nature run its course - wild as a splitting desert storm rollin’ in at dusk and unpredictable as a cayote.
Dye Under Ice (Ice Dye)
Dye under ice is like buryin’ firewood before the frost — you lay the color down, then let the ice slowly melt to push water through the grain. It’s a cold crawl that thrusts dye like groundwater through cracked desert clay — quiet, patient, and ordered.
Bottle Dye
Bottle dyein’ is like wranglin’ color with a squirt gun — you load up your squeeze bottle and lay down dye with precision, not chaos. It’s hands-on and high control, like patchin’ a fence with just the right nail — every squirt’s a choice, and every drop’s got a job to do.
Spray Dye
Spray dyein’ is like taggin’ a wall in the wind — fast, loose, and wild as tumbleweed in a dust devil.
You load up a bottle, mist the fabric, and let the color settle where it wants — more chaos than control, but that’s the beauty of it.
Brush Dye
Brush dyein’ is like paintin’ a sunset on a saddle — every stroke’s got weight, and every drop’s got direction. You dip the bristles, drag the color, and coax the fabric like you’re teachin’ a colt to trust your hand — slow work, but it sings when done right.
Dip Dye
Dip dyein’ is like dunkin’ your boots in creek water — deep, fast, and full of attitude. You plunge the fabric straight into the dye, lettin’ gravity and saturation do the talkin’ — one move, big impact, no second guessin’. 2 moves and you're going into ombré territory.
Seal the Stain
Once it’s sealed, it don’t back down.
Wash It Mean
Hit it hard - like that sun-cooked shirt
Bake Window
Some dyes cure quick — hit 'em with heat and they’re done before your coffee’s cold. Others need time to stew, sittin’ in a bag on a rack for a couple days ‘til they’re good and set.
Sweat to Set
Heat speeds the set — the hotter it gets, the faster that stain locks in. Keep it covered and let it sweat; anything under 72° is just wasting time.
Cold Start, Hot Finish
Start cold - rinse out that soda ash like you’re washing off the desert. Then crank the heat ‘til your hands holler - melting off the last drops of dye. Lastly, throw it in the machine on a hot wash cycle and low heat dry.