Coastal Covet + New Arrivals – Nadia Campbell Bags

Bahamian designer Nadia Campbell nor these Coastal Covet worthy bags need much of an introduction. Nadia’s jewelery having previously been featured in this series of posts makes her work no stranger to you readers. That said, earlier this year Nadia set out on her travels to Istanbul to create the Svetlana Envelope Clutch and it is with a sigh of relief that I am proud to say she has never-more pushed the envelope than how she has done with her most recent collection – pun intended. In a world where fashion has become so universal, her design and creation of an accessory which bears the brass markings of two Nassau Grouper swimming in synchronization is akin to taking in a fresh breathe of air after escaping the clogged and congested streets of Manhattan. Authenticity and a representation of what “Inspired by The Bahamas” should stand for is exactly what her clutches and totes offer. If that were not enough of an indication of my love and upmost respect, I carry my own Nadia Campbell Bag as a flag, and look to it to represent my pride – in buying Bahamian and supporting the local economy. Borrowing but a line from Nadia’s travel log I would like to applaud her for her tireless efforts to generously share her pride with the people to whom it is foreign – people such as yourself  – and also to share with you her creative experience in Istanbul.

Notes from Nadia Campbell’s Travel Log:
I travelled to Istanbul with a readiness to extend our product offering to include bags, having just a slightly better than vague idea of what form the pieces would take. I left home with preliminary sketches, deciding to take in a completely new place and to let the ideas take a shape all their own.I made a marked decision not to do any sight-seeing. There were three reasons.The first is that I really wanted to just focus on real life Istanbul – no touristy watchings of the Dervishes whirling in the appointed square on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 2-4. No trips to places where my head would be insultingly half wrapped in the best scarf that I could find in the appropriate display of piety. No visits to places written up as a must do, see, eat, buy – no touristy anything.

I wanted to go to places where it was impossible to order without Turkish. I wanted my raki authentic, my kebabs with the appropriate dressing, and my coffee strong enough to rival many things illegal. The real deal please, and nothing less. I wanted to leave with a palmful of Turkish phrases; the obscene gesture was a undemanded bonus but that’s a story for another blog post. Teşekkürler.

The second was that I was there for work and I wanted to be serious and disciplined. The third, which really makes the second the biggest pile of crap, is that I knew that I would return in June for a wedding and would have more than enough opportunity to make up for everything then. Though my stay was still somehow touristy, despite my best efforts. I saw and felt a place that I fell in love with almost as much as my own home. From the start of the morning with the muezzin’s call to prayer until the taxi or boat ride home in the evening. To be sure, it is a big city proper. I’ve been calling it the Eastern New York. I got to see the Istanbul Contemporary. I met new fashion designers. I partied at the anniversary of a young architect firm. As a treat, I ate at a very posh restaurants, okay, two. I ate on the street, went to newly gentrified neighbourhoods, narrowly missed Waris Ahluwalia’s exhibition when I visited Istanbul 74, got yelled at by taxi drivers, went to open air markets, played drinking games, and as much as I’d hate to admit it, got directions in English far more than I’d expected when the windy cobblestones led me astray. I learnt how to say güle güle, to jokingly kiss an elders hand and touch it to my forehead in mock deep respect. To talk of jinns in hushed toes, and later, to sleep through the muezzin’s call when what started off as lovely novelty at 5:00am turned into a (self-absorbed) venomous annoyance shortly after.

I thought that I fell in love with a country that was as big as we are small, and a culture that is the quite literal polar opposite in its Easterness to the Caribbeanized Westerness that I know and love. I was wrong. For all the geographic features that are different, for all the ways that the muscles in my mouth don’t know how to form the alphabet sounds, for all the foreign smells and gestures of respect that endeared me, I finally got it. What is important in Istanbul and Turkey is exactly what is important at home. Family, friends, friends that feel like family, a sweet joke, merciless teasing, an insistence on enjoying the weather whenever possible, a good meal with good company and a good drink to facilitate that. Most of all, a pride in who they were and who they are coupled with, a hopefulness about who they will become and tireless efforts to generously share that with people to whom it is foreign.

One week and two days in, the plans for the bags were solidified. Two types of minaudieres for a night out: an envelope clutch that was big enough for day and chic enough for evening. A tote that was easy to get into, had pockets for cell phones, lip gloss and key organization but could fit a laptop for work or magazines for long solitary lunches. As an homage to home, they would all have my version of a Nassau Grouper which I would sketch, then carve in wax and finally cast in brass. All components would be made by small-scale artisans. I could not imagine how many delicate little glasses of tea I would intimately come to know during this process. I named them after family and friends and if the best wishes come true, they’ll accessorize people during the daily imperative to live and love their lives.

Thank you Istanbul for taking me along a new mosque lined route back home.