The print is inspired by traditional Chinese seals, the stamps used for centuries on paintings, scrolls, calligraphy, and family documents. We simply gave them a fresh blue twist.

One of the nicest things about designing prints is that they become little souvenirs of places we’ve loved. Every time you set the table or grab your bag, you’re reminded of a great trip. That’s much better than leaving all your holiday photos on your phone.

The collection includes a square pillow, a pouch, a reversible maxi bag, two tablecloths (a four seater and a ten seater), reversible placemats, and matching oven mitts. Every piece has a protective acrylic coating, making it water resistant and ready for everyday life.

We photographed the collection in Holland, so Seal the Deal Blue is a little bit of Taipei, a little bit of Europe, and a whole lot of fun. We can’t wait for it to arrive in our shops.

I bought Vintage Aloha Shirts Collection Guidebook in Tokyo the last time I was there with my sisters, and it has become one of those books I keep coming back to. The book was published by the same people behind SUN SURF, the Japanese brand I mentioned earlier and one of the world’s leading authorities on vintage Aloha shirts. Their passion for preserving the history of these shirts is extraordinary, and this book is a perfect example of that dedication.

It documents hundreds of vintage Aloha shirts, from the fabrics and labels to the buttons, construction techniques, and original artwork. The level of detail is incredible, and every page reminds you that great design is rarely accidental.

But the reason I wanted to share this book has very little to do with Hawaiian shirts.

I often think books are the original source of Vitamin D. Not the kind you get from the sun, but the kind that keeps your creativity healthy.

Instagram gives us quick bursts of inspiration. We scroll, we like, we move on. The algorithm keeps showing us more of what it thinks we’ll enjoy, which means we’re often looking at slight variations of the same thing.

Books ask something different of us. They ask us to slow down.

I love making a cup of coffee, pulling a book off the shelf, and simply flipping through it. Sometimes I start at the beginning. Sometimes I open it in the middle. Sometimes I go backwards. Almost every time I discover something I missed before. A colour combination, an illustration, a tiny detail, or a beautiful piece of typography that somehow escaped me the last ten times I looked.

I honestly can’t remember the last Instagram post I went back to five years later. But I constantly return to books I’ve owned for years. They seem to grow with you. As your eye develops and your interests change, you notice different things on every visit.

For me, books are one of the best investments a designer can make. They expose you to ideas outside your own algorithm and introduce you to subjects you weren’t even looking for. They slow you down, broaden your visual vocabulary, and remind you that the best ideas usually come from curiosity rather than speed.

So, if you’re ever in Tokyo and you come across this book, do yourself a favour and buy it. Not because you need to know everything about vintage Aloha shirts, but because every designer deserves a healthy dose of creative Vitamin D every once in a while.

Over the past few months, we’ve been printing some of our favourite NALA archive designs as art prints, and seeing them come to life has been incredibly rewarding. Old patterns, forgotten sketches and much loved illustrations have found a new home, not on fabric, but on paper.

Our new visual merchandiser, Hakim, has taken this idea and run with it. He has transformed our stores by treating them like little galleries, mixing fashion, homewares and art in a way that makes you realise a beautiful print can completely change a space. A wall that was empty suddenly has a story to tell.

The best part? You don’t need a major renovation or a big budget to refresh your home. One colourful print can brighten a corner, fill an awkward space or simply make you smile every time you walk past it.

Have a look the next time you’re in one of our stores. All of our archive art prints are available across our locations, and who knows, you might just find the missing piece for your home.

Dutch artist Gijs Frieling and Job Wouters were creating a live mural called Amor e Consola, or Love and Comfort. I remember standing there completely captivated. The colours, the confidence, the craftsmanship. It was one of those moments where you know you’ve discovered an artist who will stay with you.

At the time, I was deeply involved in mural painting myself. We created large hand painted walls for Delicious, the BIG group and many of our Nala stores. Each mural was unique, telling a story about the place and the people who visited it. Today, the last of our original murals can still be seen in Penang, where walls bloom with flowers that have become part of the shop’s identity. Watching Gijs Frieling paint that evening in Milan felt like meeting a kindred spirit, someone who believed that walls deserve to tell stories too.

Born in Amsterdam, Frieling has built a remarkable career creating murals that blur the line between art, decoration and architecture. His paintings draw from folklore, mythology, religion and nature, creating spaces that feel timeless. In a world increasingly dominated by white walls and temporary trends, his work is a celebration of craftsmanship and colour.

His latest publication, That Very Night in Max’s Room a Forest Grew…, brings together many of the extraordinary murals he has painted in private homes. It is more than a catalogue of artworks. It is a testament to an art form that has existed for centuries, one that asks us to think differently about the spaces we inhabit and the stories they can hold.

What I admire most about Gijs Frieling is his commitment to keeping this tradition alive. Murals require patience, skill and trust. They cannot simply be moved to another room or packed away. They become part of a building’s history and, in many ways, part of the lives of the people who live with them.

Seeing this beautiful book reminded me how much I miss creating murals myself. I hope that one day we will return to painting walls and transforming spaces, not only because they are beautiful, but because they preserve a craft that deserves to survive. In an increasingly digital world, there is something profoundly human about putting brush to wall and creating something that may last for generations.

Some artists make paintings. Gijs Frieling creates worlds. Fourteen years after watching him paint live in Milan, I am still inspired by his work and by his dedication to an art form that should never become a lost art.

genuinely think everyone should carry a sketchbook or notebook with them at all times.

Not for productivity.
Not because you need to become organised.
But because you never know what might appear during the day that feels worth keeping.

A sentence someone says.
A flower combination.
A strange idea.
A colour palette.
A dream.
A restaurant name.
A feeling.

And the beautiful part is not even writing it down in the moment. It’s finding it again years later.

Opening an old notebook feels like opening tiny fragments of another version of yourself. Sometimes it’s profound. Sometimes completely ridiculous. Sometimes you realise you had an idea ten years too early. Sometimes you read something and think, wow, thank God I didn’t go through with that.

The other day I found a note from almost five years ago about wanting to learn Japanese. Sadly, life had other plans. But it still made me smile because for a brief moment, that version of me existed so clearly on paper.

And honestly, maybe this is just another reminder that Nala should finally make mini notebooks.

Even though they’re ridiculously expensive to produce properly.

Traditional batik is usually divided into a few methods. Batik tulis is drawn by hand using a canting tool. Batik cap uses copper stamps dipped in wax. Ours is closer to what is sometimes referred to as screen printed wax batik, a more contemporary evolution of the craft that allows larger surfaces and bolder compositions while still keeping the unpredictability that makes batik beautiful.

And that unpredictability is exactly why I love it.

The wax never behaves perfectly. The dye shifts slightly from batch to batch. Colours deepen, soften, or move depending on temperature, timing, and the hand of the maker. Some prints come out sharper, others more blurred around the edges. There are overlaps, irregularities, tiny imperfections that machines would immediately correct. But that is where the soul is.

The more I worked on this Brutal Times collection, the more I realised how closely this process reflects brutalism itself. Brutalism was never really about concrete. It was about honesty. Letting materials speak for themselves. Showing texture, process, and construction instead of hiding them behind polish.

This batik does the same thing. You can see the hand in it.
You can feel the process in it. Nothing is overly corrected.

And in a world where everything is becoming increasingly digital, smooth, and identical, there is something deeply human about that. Every piece in this collection was designed in Malaysia, printed in Malaysia, dyed in Malaysia, and manufactured in Malaysia. That makes me incredibly proud. Not just because it supports local craftsmanship, but because it proves that Malaysian making still carries depth, character, and beauty when it is given the space to breathe.

No two pieces will ever be exactly alike, and we do not want them to be. Variations in colour and alignment are part of the process, not defects. They are evidence that somebody touched it, printed it, dyed it, and brought it to life by hand. That is the beauty of batik. And for us, that is the beauty of these brutal times.