A creature or spirit in Scottish and Irish folklore that has the form of a seal but can also assume human form. Alternative forms saelkie, selky, seilkie, sejlki, shelky, silkey, silkie, sulky
A typical folk-tale is that of a man who steals a female selkie's skin, finds her naked on the sea shore, and compels her to become his wife. But the wife will spend her time in captivity longing for the sea, her true home, and will often be seen gazing longingly at the ocean. Once she discovers her skin, she will immediately return to the sea.
Filled with color, exuberance and power, this collection is for the Selkie women everywhere, setting themselves free.
We are so proud to have shown for a second time in NY, and this year we were officially listed on NYFW. This was an incredibly exciting moment for our entire team! We brought our first ever handbags, a plethora of pastels and original jewelry like the effervescenent unicorn crowns and butterfly bustiers, made in collaboration with Stonehart. All of it coming your way in Spring 2023.
This year we were so lucky to have the lead makeup artist Danessa Myricks, and our talented friend Linh Nguyen leading hair. The show was styled by Alisha Silverstein with Kimberley Gordon and Justine Babb. It was produced by Emily Bungert and cast by Julia Samersova with Kimberley Gordon.
What a whirlwind! We already cannot wait until next year.
" The girl does not know. Ok, yes she knows she is different, she can feel it even today as she struts across 2nd ave, all eyes on her. It haunts her- first thing in the morning, waking, old mattress on the floor, soft light pouring through pink curtains in her warehouse loft. She knows it at school, or at parties, a few martinis later staring into the crowd looking for something or someone else. But who? She does not know. She has never even known to ask,
Am I the last?”
She just knows she is different. She wears giant ruffled skirts, pastel capes, and satin ribbons bound around her wrists. They stream out behind her as she boards the subway, rhinestone heels clicking, silk jacket over her hair, long and tangled. Maybe she'll shave her head when she gets home. Left-over makeup glistens as she sips her coffee. She thinks of the night before, she drinks too much in an effort to push away the feelings, she blasts dubstep wearing big headphones to silence these circular thoughts in her head. She laughs loudly and moves quickly, knowing that this human body is not quite right for her. She stays out late, eats up history books, would rather run than walk, and searches for others who feel the same. She does not know, not yet, that there are in fact many others in this big city, trotting to the beat of its pulsing heart, dressed up “crazy” kissing strangers, and dancing their feet raw in endless nights. Others who are filling their closets with gowns, making purses out of antique pillows, and decorating their faces with shimmering war paint. Others who watch the sunrise alone from the bridge, feet dangling barefoot over the edge, crystals sparkling from ankles, munching sandwiches and sipping champagne from flasks. Sun rippled on the water, red in its wet reflection. She sees herself in the water, too, but her image is unlike the one known to the world. The twinkle of something sharp, a spear? A...horn? No, she is not the last, and she is not the first. And one day she will learn to ask. Her mother made sure this city will know her.