dalga is a product of its environment, both natural and urban. We are seekers, traveling to uncover lost treasures, taste new flavors, surf untouched waves, and converse with strangers who become friends. We observe the world and the people around us in hopes of understanding more of ourselves and, by extension, each other. We immerse fully so we can slow time and notice the individual moments that define a trip or a place. For us, these moments include a friendly cat following us on a morning walk toward the Grand Bazaar, steam from hot tea rising into the chilly morning air, waves gently lapping against a jagged coastline, or rakı glasses clinking to a collective “Şerefe”, marking the beginning of a meal that will likely last all night. As we reflect on these moments, we feel compelled to seek them more often. They become a reason to get out of bed in the morning, and the reason dalga exists. Our observations affirm our need to move, a reminder that life lives in the journey not the destination, though the destination can be damn good. Here are some of our observations thus far and how the dalga palette tells its own story.
Mavi: Deep Blue Like the Bosphorus & the Aegean, a Reminder of Protection
dalga’s core influence and backdrop is the deep, ever-changing blue of the ocean. We seek, live, and breathe the coast, perpetually in awe of the depth and magnitude of blues as they engulf a remote island like Meis or carve through a metropolis like Istanbul. We can be caught observing the cinema of the sea for hours as the light shifts, turning blues from deep navy to shimmering cobalt to nearly translucent glass. Watching the sun sink below an endless horizon is a quiet reminder of nature’s impermanence, that in every moment we live, not a single second, angle, or wave is ever the same. Blink once, it’s gone. Blink twice, a new beauty to behold.
Our deep blue is an ode to any coast, but more specifically a nod to the deep waters of the Bosphorus and the Aegean Sea. Nearly every journey we take to Türkiye begins with a weeklong stay in Istanbul, a place where chaos and beauty coexist in a way found nowhere else. As you roam through neighborhoods or commute between the European and Asian sides, one presence is impossible to escape: the Bosphorus. Cutting directly through the city, it is both a physical divide and a unifying passage, arguably the very reason for Istanbul’s historical significance. From high atop Galata Tower, the scale of this blue becomes unmistakable, stretching through the city like a living highway, fusing continents. In daylight, it sparkles against the dense urban sprawl that surrounds it. Wander deeper into the ancient, winding streets and hours can pass unnoticed, until a seagull overhead reminds you the blue is never far. Turn a corner and the sea reveals itself again, offering a breath of fresh air and a moment of calm, a needed respite while navigating one of the world’s densest urban labyrinths. As our journey continues south along the coastline, from Assos to Çeşme to Bodrum, the Aegean Sea remains the constant focal point, impossible to ignore for long. Days unfold soaked in sun and salt, ending with fiery sunsets over a deep, ever-changing indigo, only to give way to mornings washed in cobalt, inviting another dip. Life here revolves around the sea, from escaping the heat to the fare placed on the dinner table. These are the dalgadays: fully immersed, present, and guided by nature’s rhythm.
Historically in Turkish culture, deep blue has held a balancing and protective role, associated with clarity, composure, and defense. Most notably, it is tied to protection against the evil eye, rooted in the belief that envy or excessive admiration can cause misfortune or imbalance. This symbol appears everywhere and serves as a foundational inspiration for dalga jewelry as protective armor. Blue is believed to absorb and deflect harmful energy. For this reason, an evil eye amulet is often pinned to a newborn, offering protection from negative forces. In cosmology, blue represents the sky, long regarded as sacred, eternal, and all-encompassing. In early Central Asian Turkic belief, the sky was revered as a divine force, a bridge between the earthly and the spiritual. The color’s enduring association with both sky and sea links it to ideas of cleansing, renewal, and the quiet sense of protection that comes with being held within something larger.
Our deep blue reminds us of our roots to the coast and the impermanence of a life intertwined with nature.
Kırmızı: Warm Crimson Like Tea & Terracotta Roofs, a Reminder of Presence
As in Turkish culture, dalga’s imagery and style carry the deep presence of crimson red as a warm counterpoint to our blues and neutral tones. Red holds significance in ancient Anatolian culture as a symbol of life force and vitality, binding life to the physical world. It is associated with the earth, grounding, and the physical body. The red of the Turkish flag represents the sacrifice and resilience that yielded the nation’s independence. Historically, red dye appeared prominently in ancient Anatolian rugs (kilims), where it symbolized happiness, courage, and prosperity. This dye was derived from kermes, a parasitic insect whose larvae yield a rich red pigment. The insects were collected, treated, and dried, producing a deep crimson powder that became foundational to textile traditions across the region. During the Ottoman Empire, red signified sovereignty and authority, often reserved for the Sultan and worn in ceremonial dress. In this way, red functioned not as ornament, but as assertion of life, continuity, and grounded power.
Our warm crimson acknowledges our connection to the physical world, and more specifically the small, grounding moments that define our unique experience and cultivate presence. One such daily ritual in Türkiye is çay saati, an intentional pause in the day to sip hot tea. It may happen at a set hour, during a ferry commute, or spontaneously, when a glass is offered mid-conversation by a stranger. In each case, it is an invitation to slow down, collect your thoughts, and sip with heightened awareness. Turks are among the world’s highest per-capita consumers of tea. Strong black tea is brewed in a double teapot and diluted with hot water to taste. It is available nearly everywhere, even in the most unassuming places, and is deeply tied to hospitality, routinely offered to guests in homes, shops, and public spaces alike. Throughout our market journeys, the offering of tea often signals that a conversation is unfolding well, or that the foundation of a partnership is forming. Yet it is never transactional. Sitting down with a glass is usually followed by genuine dialogue, unhurried and open, with no immediate rush to business - a refreshing contrast to the pace of the Western world. Some of these conversations can stretch on for an hour before production timelines or quantities are ever discussed. There have been countless occasions where we’ve run late to our next obligation due to sipping tea. Funny enough, we remember the conversations more than whatever followed.
Upon arriving at a new destination, our first inclination is to gain a vantage point as high as possible, an instinctual longing to calibrate our presence within this new environment. We must get a lay of the land, so to speak. From familiar viewpoints like Galata Tower or high above the seaside town of Kaş, one of the more subtle yet defining features of the urban landscape comes into view: terracotta roofs. Like a sea of their own, brick-red tiles expand as far as the eye can see, typically juxtaposed against the dark blue of the sea beyond, creating a defining palette that remains imprinted in our minds long after we return home. The use of clay brick and tile in Anatolia dates back to the Hellenistic period (4th century BC) and remains an iconic feature of Turkish architecture, particularly in older cities and smaller seaside towns along the Mediterranean coastline. These traditional tiles were made from local clay, abundant across the region. Rich in iron oxide, this clay naturally turns shades of red, rust, and earthen orange when fired in a kiln. Functionally, the tiles are heavy, adding stability to buildings, and possess high thermal mass, absorbing heat during the day and releasing it slowly at night, making them well suited for hot climates. They serve as a reminder of physical presence and the use of local resources for function. This subtle feature also reflects the power of zooming out and changing perspective, and in doing so, seeing your environment more clearly.
Our warm crimson is a grounding reminder to cherish small, everyday moments and seek new perspectives.
Beyaz: Washed White Like Coastal Stone & Cold Raki, a reminder of Shared Experience
The color white symbolizes points of transition and the clarity that emerges through contrast. It gains meaning in relation to what surrounds it, revealing the true nature of neighboring elements by bringing them into focus. On the awe inspiring İznik tile walls of Topkapı Palace, vibrant color and symmetrical patterns, each drawn and glazed by hand, are set against structured white backgrounds, allowing visual motifs to be read from both near and far. Architecturally, white was reserved for communal spaces such as courtyards and entry halls, where it functioned to reflect light within interiors and help maintain cooler temperatures. During the Ottoman Empire, white dress was reserved for formal ceremonies marking pilgrimage, spiritual commitment, and death as a passage, each signaling a moment of profound transition. Through its intentional use, white sharpens perspective, brings clarity, and transforms individual presence into shared experience.
Our washed white is rooted in natural inspiration from the Mediterranean coastline, where dry limestone rock juts dramatically into salty turquoise waters below. Like dalga, this unmistakable limestone is a product of its environment. The southern Turkish coast experiences over 300 days of sun per annum, subjecting exposed rock to intense UV exposure that gradually breaks down organic material, leaving behind pale calcium deposits. Over time, this process creates a softened, chalked appearance. The neighboring Mediterranean Sea is among the saltiest bodies of water on Earth, with an average salinity of approximately 39 PSU (practical salinity units), higher than the global average of 35 PSU. This is due to the sea’s unique geography, nearly landlocked with the Strait of Gibraltar as its only connection to the Atlantic. Evaporation from intense heat and sun far exceeds the inflow of fresh water, resulting in a high concentration of salt retained over time. Salt mist carried inland by coastal winds settles daily on exposed stone, crystallizing as it dries and leaving behind a matte, bleached finish. These salt kissed, sun soaked rocks mark the nexus of land and sea along the Mediterranean, echoing our dreamy beach days and the shared experiences formed along its coastlines.
The focal point of our dalgadays in Türkiye is almost always the long, unhurried ritual of gathering at our local meyhane with loved ones for dinner. We plan our days around it, making sure to return from our adventures in time to settle at the table. What follows becomes a shared field of exceptional meze and enduring stories that last deep into the night. At the center of the table sits the aromatic staple of meze culture: the distinguished Turkish spirit known as rakı. A clear, high-proof distilled liquor made from grape based alcohol and aniseed, rakı has been produced in Türkiye for over 300 years. Historically served in communal taverns to people from all walks of life, it became deeply embedded in the social fabric of the region and is beloved to this day. The consumption of rakı is guided by ritual. The clear spirit is poured into slender glasses, followed by water and then ice, transforming it into a cloudy white elixir, the origin of its enduring nickname, Lion’s Milk. It is meant to be sipped slowly, paired with food, and enjoyed socially, rarely alone and never in haste. Rakı becomes a catalyst for sharing. The first glass invites reflections on the day. The second, and those that follow (as there is never a shortage), surface matters of the heart. Together, they give way to muhabbet, the art of warm, heartfelt conversation over a long shared meal. The only aim is presence and connection, until at some point in the night you have swapped chairs, found yourself at the other end of the table, and are deep in conversation, ice cold white rakı glasses and fruit plates scattered between friends.
Our washed white reminds us to seek shared experiences with loved ones when life picks up too much speed.
