Rooftops, Tomatoes, and Sunsets — How Color Tells Our Story

If you close your eyes and think of Montenegro, what color do you see?

For us at Fragmenti, it depends on the day.

Some days it’s terracotta orange — the rooftops of Old Towns glowing in the afternoon sun.

Other days, it’s winter/summer sea blue — the Adriatic shifting through a dozen shades before lunch.

And sometimes, it’s that impossible pink-orange blend of a Boka Bay sunset — the kind that makes you forget to take a photo because you’re too busy staring.

This is the palette we live in.

And it’s the palette we design with.

When we create a collection, it never starts with trend forecasts or color of the year charts.

It starts with a walk — past stone walls warmed by the sun, baskets of tomatoes at the market, kids jumping off piers, waves tapping against wooden boats.

Take our Pamidora Orange, for example.

It was born on a September afternoon, carrying a bag full of tomatoes back from the market, just as the rooftops of Kotor caught the last golden light. Orange, everywhere. Warm, earthy, vibrant. Not loud — but alive.

That exact shade became a hat. A bag handle. A thread. It’s woven into our “nije preša” prints and subtly echoed in our “slatka ka’ cukar” collar text.

Then there are our Sea Notes — the moody blues and shifting teals. The sea here never sits still.

One morning it’s turquoise and playful, by noon it’s navy and proud, and at night it turns glassy silver under the moon. We tried to bottle that feeling into our winter sea hoodies and sweatshirts, and terry beach bags.

Not just “blue,” but Boka blue — the kind that carries wind and memory.

Color, for us, is not just decoration.

It’s translation. Of emotion. Of place. Of time.

It’s how we remember what it felt like to stand barefoot on stone steps in Perast, sipping coffee while the sky melts into sea.

It’s how we capture the gušt of summer — and carry it into colder months.

So when you wear one of our pieces — whether it’s a hoodie in tomato orange, a towel striped like the sunset, or a tee the color of sea mist — know this:
you’re not just putting on clothing.
You’re slipping into a fragment of Montenegro.
A story told in rooftops, tomatoes, sunsets — and seas.