Nala Design New Collections Brutal TImes May 2026

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Latest issue on 7 Sept 2025. Update every Saturday.

Thursday Show
No Rumours. We’re Really Leaving.

No Rumours. We’re Really Leaving.

5 min read

No Rumours. We’re Really Leaving.

When landlord collaborations are not meant to be.
Well, it’s official. Kasturi is really, really closing.

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For a while, I genuinely thought we could save it. Not by fighting, but by collaborating. The idea was simple: work together with the temple, bring in partners, create a destination that would benefit everyone and give this iconic corner of the street a new lease of life. We were ready. We had ideas, energy and even potential collaborators lined up.

Sadly, it wasn’t meant to be.
The reality is that sometimes people see potential, and sometimes they simply see square footage and rental income. A tenant willing to pay more came along, and our story at Kasturi came to an end. It’s disappointing, especially because I truly believe we could have created something magical together.

The surprising part was what happened next. Our Instagram call for collaborators was met with an overwhelming response. Restaurants, retailers and creative entrepreneurs reached out with ideas and encouragement. We even found a partner, Kopi Hut, that I think would have made an incredible addition to the space. I would have loved to see that collaboration come to life. Perhaps in another place and another time.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.

Kasturi has become more than just a shop. It’s part of the neighbourhood. A place where people discovered NALA, found unexpected treasures, had coffee, attended events and became part of our community. Seeing it go is bittersweet.

But there’s one thing I’ve learned as an entrepreneur. Sometimes you don’t get to choose the ending. You only get to choose how you leave.

So we’re leaving with colour, optimism and one final celebration. Our sale continues until the 28th, and we’re clearing fashion, homewares, furniture and some of the pieces that have made Kasturi so memorable. If you’ve been meaning to visit, this is your chance.

Come and wander through the space one last time. Shop your heart out, take home a piece of NALA history and help us give Kasturi the farewell it deserves.

Some collaborations are meant to happen. Others simply aren’t. Onwards and upwards.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The Frozen Fountain: A Lesson in Coming Home

The Frozen Fountain: A Lesson in Coming Home

5 min read

The Frozen Fountain: A Lesson in Coming Home

There are some places I never miss when I’m back in Amsterdam. The Frozen Fountain is one of them.

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It’s difficult to describe exactly what it is. Part gallery, part furniture store, part design museum, it feels a little like IKEA grew up, went to art school and developed impeccable taste. Every corner is carefully considered, every object has breathing space, and every room invites you to imagine a different way of living.

Walking through it this week, something unexpected struck me. There wasn’t actually that much that was new.

At first, I thought that was disappointing. I’m so used to working in fashion, where we’re constantly thinking about the next collection, the next pattern, the next idea. At Nala, we reinvent ourselves every few months. But The Frozen Fountain reminded me of something I’d almost forgotten.

If something is beautiful, it doesn’t need to change.

The sofas I admired last year were still beautiful. The lamps I wanted to take home were still perfect. The carpets, the ceramics, the art, they had lost none of their appeal simply because time had passed. Good design doesn’t chase trends. It quietly waits for you to appreciate it.

Of course, I still wanted to buy half the shop. A beautiful sofa, a sculptural lamp, an incredible rug and a few pieces of art somehow all found their way onto my imaginary shopping list. Reality quickly reminded me that these things require a slightly larger budget than my suitcase could handle, but dreaming is part of the experience.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.

What I love most is the visual merchandising. The colour combinations are extraordinary. Nothing feels forced or overcrowded. Every object has a purpose, proving that less really can be more. It’s an inspiring reminder that a home doesn’t have to be filled with things. It simply needs to be filled with the right things.

Perhaps that’s also a very Dutch way of looking at life.

The Dutch invest in their homes. They’ll save for years for the perfect sofa, a beautiful dining table, an artwork or a carpet that they’ll treasure for decades. They might skip a holiday to buy a piece they truly love because home matters. It’s where life happens. It’s where friends gather, families grow and quiet moments are spent. Creating a beautiful home isn’t considered a luxury. It’s considered part of living well.

There’s a touch of wabi-sabi in that philosophy too. The idea that home should bring a sense of peace and comfort, that beauty doesn’t need to be loud and that carefully chosen objects can quietly improve everyday life.

Walking through The Frozen Fountain was a lovely reminder for me personally. Perhaps we don’t always need to reinvent ourselves. Perhaps good ideas deserve time to breathe. Perhaps a beautiful object, a comfortable chair or a well chosen lamp can stay with us for years and become part of our story.

And perhaps that’s the secret of good design. It’s not about constantly buying something new.

It’s about creating a home you never want to leave.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
Amsterdam, Beyond the Postcard

Amsterdam, Beyond the Postcard

5 min read

Amsterdam, Beyond the Postcard

Whenever people hear I’m going to Amsterdam, the same things come up. Bicycles. Canals. Coffee shops.
But within a few hours of arriving, I’m reminded that the city’s real magic lies somewhere else entirely.

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Amsterdam is a city best explored on foot. Walking through it feels like wandering through an open air museum, where every street reveals another beautiful facade, another perfect window, another carefully tended garden. The houses seem to compete, not in grandeur, but in charm.

What always strikes me is the abundance of flowers. Roses climb up historic facades, fig trees stand proudly in front gardens, and window boxes overflow with seasonal blooms. It’s impossible not to notice that flowers are woven into Dutch life. They aren’t reserved for special occasions. They’re part of the everyday. Real flowers, fresh flowers, growing wherever they can, making ordinary streets feel extraordinary.

The same philosophy extends indoors. Peek through a window and you’ll often spot a vase of fresh flowers on a table or desk. It’s a small detail, but it says something about the Dutch approach to beauty. You don’t wait for a celebration. You simply make everyday life a little more beautiful.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.

And then there are the signs.

Without stepping into a single shop, Amsterdam offers a masterclass in typography. Traditional cafés and bars still proudly display their names in hand painted lettering, often in the famous Amsterdamse Krulletter, or Amsterdam Curly Letter. Developed in the 1940s and perfected by generations of Dutch sign painters, these elegant swirls and flourishes have become part of the city’s identity, decorating windows and facades with a craftsmanship that refuses to disappear. It’s a wonderful reminder that even something as practical as a shop sign can become a work of art.

I arrived yesterday to one of those perfect postcard days. Soft clouds drifting across a blue sky, bicycles quietly passing by, roses in full bloom and beautiful hand painted signs catching the afternoon light. There was no need to visit a museum or gallery. The city itself was enough.

Perhaps that’s what I love most about Amsterdam. It doesn’t separate art from everyday life. Flowers belong on the streets. Beautiful lettering belongs on shop windows. Historic houses are meant to be lived in. Beauty isn’t hidden away. It’s simply part of the daily routine.

And maybe that’s the best souvenir the Dutch have to offer: the idea that ordinary life deserves extraordinary care.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
Some things just Klic

Some things just Klic

5 min read

Some things just Klic

Some projects are complicated.
Some take endless meetings, revisions, and second-guessing.

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And then there are those rare occasions when everything simply… klics.

A few years ago, I met Chris while working on The Campus. What started as a project turned into a friendship and a creative partnership built on trust, good ideas, and a shared ambition to create beautiful spaces.

So when he invited NALA to work on his newest venture, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Introducing KLIC, a brand new tennis destination behind Putra World Trade Centre.

We’ve had the privilege of working on the branding and interior identity, helping to shape a place that’s modern, welcoming, and full of personality. It’s one of those projects that reminds me why I love design so much. It’s never just about logos or colours. It’s about creating places where people want to spend time.

The courts are ready to play.
The café is still on its way. The reception is still being built.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.

But I rather like that.
There’s something wonderfully optimistic about opening the courts first. Play the game now. Finish the details as you go. Don’t wait for perfection to enjoy the journey.

Working with Chris has been an absolute pleasure. One of the nicest things in business is finding people you genuinely enjoy creating with. The second project is always special because it’s built on trust, and trust is one of the most valuable things you can earn.

I’m incredibly proud of what we’ve created together, and I can’t wait for everyone to see it.

So if you’re looking for a beautiful new place to play tennis, watch this space.

KLIC is opening soon.

And sometimes, the best things in life simply… klic.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
They definitely didn’t overthink

They definitely didn’t overthink

5 min read

They definitely didn't overthink

Somewhere on Beach Street in Penang, there’s a perfume and soap store called Overthink Co.

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And yes, before everyone says it, of course it looks like Aesop. It absolutely does. But honestly, it’s well done. The scents are fantastic, the prices are super reasonable, the staff knows what they’re talking about, and at the end of the day, that matters too.

I bought an almond soap that smells incredible and a hibiscus perfume for myself that I’ve been wearing ever since.

What I really loved is that Penang completely understands this kind of thing. Good taste. Good cafés. Good branding. Beautiful little stores hidden at the end of streets you would normally walk past. And the interesting part is that they took the risk to be slightly tucked away, yet every single time I walked in, the place was full.

That says a lot.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.

There’s clearly an audience for thoughtful retail experiences that are beautifully designed and accessible at the same time.

That said, I would personally love to see even more soul in the space. A little more warmth. A little more colour. Something slightly less restrained and slightly more alive.

Which is exactly why I think a collaboration between NALA and Overthink could actually be really interesting.Fragrance meets pattern. Minimalism meets maximalism. Clean architecture meets flowers and storytelling.

Actually… that sounds kind of perfect.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
Mama Milano

Mama Milano

5 min read

Mama Milano

On instinct, timing, and building something of your own. There are certain people you come across who make you feel like things are possible in a different way.
JJ Martin is one of them.

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An American who arrived in Milan as a journalist, writing for publications and observing the city from the outside, she slowly found her way into it. Not by forcing it, but by paying attention. To the way women dressed, to the way homes were put together, to the colours, the layering, the confidence that Milan carries so effortlessly. Her book, Mama Milano, is exactly that. A personal, visual story of the city through her eyes. It moves between fashion, interiors, people, and moments, capturing a Milan that is not obvious, but lived in. You feel that she didn’t just visit the city, she absorbed it.

What I find most inspiring is that she didn’t start out as a designer. She built her world from instinct. From what she loved. From what she saw was missing. And at some point, that turned into something tangible, a brand, a store, a point of view that people now recognise. Her shop in Milan is a reflection of that. Strong, confident, unapologetically full of pattern and colour. It doesn’t try to please everyone. It simply is what it is.
And that is what makes it powerful.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.

There is also something else that runs through her work, something quieter. A belief in energy, in timing, in being in the right place at the right moment, but also being ready for it. Yoga, spirituality, a certain awareness that what we build is not just business, but something more personal. I relate to that.
Because sometimes, when you are building something, it feels like you are chasing a place, a moment, a version of your life that hasn’t fully formed yet.

I remember going to her shop in Milan, picking up Mama Milano, and thinking how beautifully everything came together. How natural it all seemed, even though you know it must have taken years.
And I have to admit, every time I’m in Milan, I look for her.
Just in case. Because I do believe that one day, paths cross when they are meant to.

Until then, it’s enough to be inspired by someone who followed her instinct, trusted her timing, and built something that feels entirely her own.

The skirt that thinks it is a painting.
The skirt that thinks it is a painting.