You don't need to speak Spanish to be here — you just need to care about what your brand sounds like once it crosses a border. That's exactly what these pieces are for.
Each one starts with a short English source text, written in the voice of a fictional brand, followed by its Spanish transcreation and a breakdown of the thinking behind it: what a literal translation would have lost, and the choices made to protect tone, rhythm and personality instead.
This is what happens behind every project at Silk Words, made visible.
The Gossamer Dress— 16Arlington / Sister Jane register.
The Challenge: How do you translate playfulness without making it sound cheesy?
Made for the kind of night that starts with "just one drink" and ends with confetti in your hair.
Whisper-thin silk chiffon, cut to catch candlelight and catch eyes in equal measure. The skirt moves like it's already dancing before you are. Tiny hand-sewn petals scatter across the bodice — the kind of detail no one clocks from across the room, but everyone feels.
Wear it somewhere you'll want to remember. It'll do most of the remembering for you.
Creado para ese tipo de noche en que empiezas con "venga, solo una copa" y acabas con confeti en el pelo.
Chifón de seda ligero como un susurro, pensado para atraer la luz y las miradas por igual. La falda se mueve como si empezara a bailar antes que tú. El corpiño está salpicado de pequeños pétalos cosidos a mano; un toque que no todo el mundo verá, pero que todos van a sentir.
Llévalo para hacer memorables tus noches. El vestido te dará motivos de sobra.
This is a piece for a playful brand, and my goal was to make a Spanish reader feel exactly what an English reader feels: swept up, a little breathless, ready for the night out.
For "fine chiffon", I used “ligero” instead of the more literal “fino”. “Fino” reads closer to a spec sheet; ligero implies weight and touch. In a piece selling a feeling, that difference matters.
Playful can tip into cursi fast in Spanish (extra exclamation marks, cute diminutives, trying too hard…) I kept the tone confident rather than gushing, so the copy stayed fun without straining for it.
The Poplin Shirt— Margaret Howell register.
The Challenge: How do you translate understatement without making it sound flat?
Made from a fine cotton poplin, woven in Lancashire.
A generous cut through the body, a collar that sits without fuss. Nothing here is decorative. The stitching is there to hold the shirt together, not to announce itself.
It will soften with wear and outlast most things you own. That is the point.
Confeccionada en fino popelín de algodón elaborado en Lancashire.
Un corte generoso en el cuerpo y un cuello que se mantiene en su sitio sin remilgos. Nada está de más. Los pespuntes son exclusivamente funcionales, sin intención de hacerse notar.
La prenda se irá suavizando con el uso y durará más que casi todo lo que tienes. De eso se trata.
This brand’s voice is unembellished by design: no ornamental build-up, no adjectives doing emotional work. The Spanish needed to match that restraint, not soften it.
For “fine cotton poplin”, I used “fino”, the same word I avoided in the Gossamer piece for feeling too technical. Here, that's exactly right: this is copy that wants to sound almost like a spec sheet.
Spanish tends warmer by default, so restraint here risked reading as dull rather than deliberate. Short, flat sentences stayed short and flat, and precision (not warmth) is what carries the confidence.
The Too Much Blouse— Doublet register.
The Challenge: How do you make irony land in a language that reads it differently?
We asked ourselves "is this too much?" and then, as a company, decided we no longer ask that question.
Puffed sleeves with their own postcode. A print that includes, we're told, at least one lobster. Buttons that don't match on purpose, because matching buttons are a cry for help.
Wear it to something you weren't invited to. Make it weird. You're welcome.
Nos habíamos preguntado "¿nos estamos pasando?", y luego, como empresa, decidimos que no nos haríamos más esta pregunta.
Mangas abullonadas que podrían tener su propio código postal. Un estampado que incluye por lo menos una langosta, o eso parece. Botones desaparejados a propósito, porque los botones a juego son para la gente aburrida.
Llévalo en un sitio donde no estés invitado. Sé un poco raro. De nada.
Humour translates worse than almost anything else. I kept the deadpan, faux-corporate tone ("como empresa, decidimos...") rather than trying to recreate the original joke word for word, since the voice is what's funny, not any single line.
"Sleeves the size of small emotional support animals" wouldn't land in Spanish. It’s too specific a cultural reference. I replaced it with "su propio código postal" (their own postcode), which keeps the same absurdist exaggeration of scale without needing the original joke explained.
Small connector choices — "o eso parece" instead of a flat statement, "a juego" instead of a more formal word for "matching" — kept the whole thing sounding spoken, not written.