About us

Here in Murcia, things happen.
Yes, yes, in this corner sometimes forgotten by the gods of glamour and the media showcase, we also have our little big stories.

Some time ago, in my dry ice shop (yes, those blocks that smoke like at parties), a guy comes in. He says he's a doctor. He comes in for ice, but not to have a party or for mad science experiments. Nothing like that.

It turns out that his wife is fighting cancer. And he, in the midst of this whirlwind, discovers something: a special cap that, when used with dry ice, prevents his wife from losing her hair to chemo.

Yes, hair, that part of us that, without being vital, marks so much our image in the mirror and in front of the world.

Every fortnight, like clockwork, the doctor returns.
And I, who can't help being curious (defect or virtue, I haven't decided yet), ask him. He tells me. Because I am one of those people who think that life puts in your way what you need (even if sometimes you don't understand it until some time has passed), I clearly see that this is more than selling dry ice.

It is to help, in my own way, in this battle.

So I say to the doctor:
«I'll give you the ice, but let me talk to your wife. I want to know more about this hat thing». He accepts.

And this is where the story goes wrong.
Like those novels that you start without much expectation and end up stealing your sleep.

The doctor's wife, the one wearing the cap, happens to be my daughter's teacher. Yes, that's the one. It's a small world, and Murcia, it seems, is the place where all roads cross.

I'm going to your house. We talk. And what she tells me deserves to be set in stone and not to be forgotten: not only has she kept her hair, but also her dignity, her strength, and her identity in front of a mirror which, in these processes, often returns a painful image.

And that is where the chips are down.
This business, beyond dry ice, beyond numbers, beyond orders... is about people. About stories. About helping to maintain dignity in the hardest moments.

After that talk, which was more of a revelation than an interview, something changed. I didn't just want to sell dry ice. I wanted to be part of the solution, a link in that chain of hope.

The doctor had told me, almost in passing, that the cap came from the United States.
So I put on my detective suit (metaphorically speaking) and started looking. I find one company. Then another. And another. In the end, I end up with four different hats, from three different companies, each with its own promise to keep hair in place, and I discover that they've been in use in the US for over 40 years.

There I was, in Murcia, playing at being a scientist with the caps.
But he had a mission: to fuse the best of each, like someone who mixes secret ingredients to create the perfect recipe.

And boy, did I do it.
After much trial and error, mixing this feature with that one, my creation was born after 4 years of research. My own cap. Improved to the point of no longer needing dry ice.

This hat, the one you now see on this page, is not just a product.
It is the result of a story, of a chance encounter that led me down paths I never thought I would travel.

It is the fusion of the best of four worlds, designed and created with one purpose: to help maintain not only hair, but smiles, hope, and a little normality in the midst of the chaos of cancer.

And here it is, proudly presented on my website.
We're not just selling a hat; we're selling part of a story. A story of struggle, of home science, and of an unwavering desire to do something, however small, in the battle against cancer.

Because in the end, this is not just about business or products. It's about the times when life crosses you with the right people, at the right time, to remind you that we are all part of something bigger. That a simple block of dry ice can open roads you never imagined you'd travel.

So yes, here, in Murcia, things happen. Big things, even if they are dressed up as small gestures. Like a hat, which was born to take care of more than just hair. To care for hope.