In Search of the Right Grey
On paper, proportion, and why half a centimeter changed everything.
The two weeks since we returned from Hong Kong have been less about “big picture” strategy and more about... paper.
I’m confident in my tea, but I needed packaging that actually does it justice. If I’m being honest, I was hitting a wall. I was tired of staring at abstract ideas on a screen and needed to actually hold something in my hand. I decided to make packaging my entire personality until I got it right.
A Drive to Banqiao
My search for the perfect packaging paper started with a UK craft paper company that ignored me for a month. Eventually, they punted my email to Hong Kong, who sent it to Taiwan, who finally pointed me toward a packaging shop in Banqiao.
I don’t love driving to Banqiao. The traffic is aggressive and street parking is impossible. After spiraling five levels into an underground parking garage and hiking back to the surface, I realized the address I had was wrong. By the time I found the actual shop, I was ready to call the whole thing off.
Then I met Mr. Lin and his daughter, Rou.
It’s a tiny family business. Most suppliers I’ve talked to give me the “come back when you’re ordering ten thousand units” look, but the Lins were different. Maybe it was the shared last name, but they spent three hours with me. They turned it into a Masterclass. We talked about folding angles, “spring-back” tension, and why some flaps stay tucked while others rebel. It’s a rare joy to find someone who treats your tiny project like it’s the most important thing on their work desk.
The Geometry of Tea
Back at home, I realized that if I didn’t master the technical side myself, I’d always be slightly lost. So, I opened Adobe Illustrator and began a very humbling journey into “Dielines for Beginners.”
With the help of YouTube tutorials, a red envelope I found as reference, and some coaching from Lea, I started drawing. I went through a dozen variations: Logo on the front vs. the back, 1x1cm or 1.5x1.5cm monogram, to flap or not to flap.
I took my first file to a tiny print shop tucked away in the mountains near our house. I’d lived here for almost a year and never even noticed it. The owner’s father tried to help me but the file defeated him; eventually, his daughter had to take over, looking at me with a “why are you here?” expression. But she managed to print it for me.
The first prototypes were horrible. The font was too big and ugly, the color didn’t feel right, and the vibe was “middle school art project” rather than “refined tea experience.”
Naturally, I blamed the paper.
The 50 Shades of Grey
The next day, I went hunting for the perfect grey paper at a specialty paper shop in Taipei. It turns out “grey” is a minefield. Some were too cold and clinical; others were so dark they swallowed the ink whole. I needed something sturdy enough for an embossed stamp but soft enough to have flexibility.
I ended up with a few contenders, including a beautiful sheet made from recycled tea leaves. It felt like a sign.
I rushed home, adjusted the layout, and printed again.
Round two looked much better. The texts finally had some room to breathe against a backdrop that didn’t look like a mistake. But then, I ran into the Pillow Problem.
The Pillow Problem
Tea has a mind of its own. It has weight and, more importantly, volume. When I tucked the tea pouch into the envelope, it puffed out like a pillowcase two sizes too small. The sleek, flat look I wanted was gone, replaced by a bloated paper bag.
I spent the next few days aggressively studying every envelope I could find. I finally discovered the secret: “Gussets.” I needed tiny 0.5 cm folds on the sides to give the paper room to breathe.
By then, it was almost Lunar New Year and the city was shutting down. I found a shop thirty minutes away that was still open at 8:45 pm on a Friday. The owner looked at me like I was causing him physical pain. He printed my sheet, charged me 10 NTD (about 30 cents), and ushered me out the door so he could go home. I’m starting to think a certain level of irritation is a job requirement for running a print shop.
Back at the house, while Lea was finally relaxing after a long week, I went to work with my exacto knife.
This version was definitely an improvement. The front stayed flat, the sides didn’t bulge, and the tea fit inside without ruining the structure. It finally looked closer to a finished envelope rather than a raw prototype.
I showed it to Lea, hoping for a shred of encouragement. She looked at it for a second and said, “It looks nice.”
I played it cool and told her I didn’t think it was that amazing, but I was absolutely high-fiving myself on the inside.
We aren’t at the finish line yet. I still have to figure out how to make these without spending two hours hand-cutting five envelopes, and many other things, but for tonight, I’ll take the win.
a very exciting journey! congrats on a small and significant win ♡