
ANTALYA.GIFT · EVERY DROP, IN ORDER
The Collections
Every Antalya.gift drop, in order. New designs land here first.
Every collection is a drop: a small set of designs picked across our galleries and given a name for the mood they share, not the place they show. Some are about the first morning, some about leaving, one is nothing but the city’s name drawn every way we could think of. They arrive one at a time, the newest first, and each one stays in the store.
Read them like a diary of the coast. Then pick the one that sounds like your trip.
Jump to a collection


















Stay with Antalya. A little longer
400 designs, one coast
16 · 20 designs
Pattern Book
Pattern Book is the small drop at the end, and it is about ornament. Most of what is here is the city name drawn the way a tile painter or a rug weaver would draw it: filled with lace, kilim geometry, mosaic, small red flowers, gold. Around the lettering sit a few plain things from the province, a cotton boll, an olive branch under the mountains, orange blossom in a stamp, the sun over the waves, and one warning label for anyone who has recently come home. It is the pattern book of the shop, the sheets the other collections were cut from.
15 · 25 designs
One More Summer
One More Summer is the drop about leaving. Everything here is written from slightly after the fact: just got back and still tanned, greetings from a place you are no longer in, stay a little longer because that is the whole plan, yavaş yavaş because there was never any rush. Around the words sit the things people take home in their heads, the sunken city, the tower under the pines, the Lycian Way, an orange mandala, the old town in one line of script. It ends where the shop started, on a plain wordmark, and asks nicely for one more summer.
Stay a little longer because that is the whole plan.
One More Summer
14 · 25 designs
Mountain and Sea
Mountain and Sea is about the shape of the place. Antalya has the Taurus at its back and the Mediterranean at its feet, and everything the province produces comes from the gap between them: oranges picked in winter, olives from the hills, a beach that runs for miles under the mountains, a coast where the loggerheads still come ashore to nest. The set moves between the two, a mountain range drawn like an old engraving, a turtle in kilim colors, a retro beach scene, an orange in a badge, and the plain slogans a visitor arrives at on their own: shoes off, factor 50 on day one, salt in the hair and sand in the car.

Wear the Turquoise Coast
Comfort Colors 1717, free worldwide shipping
13 · 25 designs
Postcard Home
Postcard Home is the drop you would actually send. It is built from the things people say about Antalya while they are still there, the arrival at AYT, hadi let's go to the beach, lost on purpose in the old town, dinner is at ten because it is still light out, and from the pictures that would go on the front of the card: the coast road, the sunken city, a scooter carrying the morning's oranges, a church in Demre where a fourth-century bishop became a story the whole world now tells differently. Half of it is a message. Half of it is the stamp.
12 · 25 designs
Blue and White
Blue and White is the decorated drop, the one about the hand rather than the place. Antalya sits at the end of a long tile-and-textile tradition, and this collection follows it across whatever surface it lands on: cobalt script that could have come off a plate, kilim geometry cut into letterforms, a rosette medallion, a floral spray, an orange picked in winter, a blue glass eye. The color holds it together more than the subject does. Nothing here is loud. The whole set is meant to look like something made carefully by someone who had done it many times before.
Nothing here is loud.
Blue and White
11 · 25 designs
Sun and Stone
Sun and Stone is the eleventh drop and the oldest one. Antalya is a city that keeps being built on top of itself: a Roman gate you still walk through, a theatre from the second century that still fills up in summer, a minaret that has been fluted since 1230, a Lycian harbor that slid under the water and stayed there. This set puts those next to the things made to decorate them, Iznik borders, gold ornament, a pomegranate mandala, and lets the letters carry the same weight as the stone. Some of it is a monument. Some of it is the pattern carved into the monument. And a few are just the plain observation that here you can look at ruins in the afternoon because you were in the sea all morning.

Sunbathing is a sport. I’m an Antalya athlete
Three hundred days of sun
10 · 25 designs
Slowly, Slowly
Slowly, Slowly takes its name from the two words you hear most often once you stop being in a hurry. Nothing happened today and it was perfect. Breakfast took three hours, as it should. The museum was Monday, the boat was Wednesday, and beyond that there are no plans. How long are you staying: we’ll see. It is the most written of the ten drops and the most quietly argued: that the useful thing Antalya sells is not a view but a pace. A turtle asleep at Çıralı, captioned iyi uykular, makes the case better than any of the words do.
09 · 25 designs
Down the Coast
Down the Coast is the map version: the drop that names things. Kaleiçi and the old harbor, Hıdırlık where the old town ends, Hadrian’s Gate at AD 130, Düden where the river meets the sea, Termessos in cloud, Lara’s sand, Konyaaltı under the mountains, the nine ancient cities in a grid, and a riviera tour that runs Antalya, Kemer, Olympos, Adrasan, Finike, Demre, Kaş, Kalkan, Patara. Antalya is a province, not a beach, and this is the drop that says so: engraved, painted, badged and printed, from a hand-drawn skyline to a folded travel poster.
Antalya is a province, not a beach.
Down the Coast
08 · 25 designs
The Table
The Table is the province as an act of feeding people. It starts where the food starts, Finike oranges, Kumluca soil, Taurus olives, cotton and cut carnations packed for export, and ends at a plate of kahvaltı that takes all morning and a glass of çay with the old town painted inside it. Afiyet olsun. Çok güzel, said about the food roughly hourly. Somebody came for the sea and stayed for the oranges. If Antalya has a single argument for itself that needs no translation, it is the one made at a table under a vine.

Antalya, beyond the ordinary
Yavaş yavaş, slowly, slowly
07 · 25 designs
Written in Antalya
Written in Antalya is the collection for people who want the name and nothing else. Twenty-five settings of a single word: a hairline serif with the founding date under it, a black grotesque that fills the chest, a varsity arch, a signature script, a micro wordmark with the coordinates in six-point capitals, letters built from Iznik tile, from beach pebbles, from stained glass, from orange branches. It is the one drop in the series that deliberately does not mix subjects. The variety here is all in the drawing, and the point is that a place worth naming can be named in twenty-five different voices without repeating itself once.
06 · 25 designs
Until Next Summer
Until Next Summer is the collection you buy on the way out, or three months later at a desk. Nobody in it says goodbye: görüşürüz is see you, the table is booked for May, the tan has not faded yet and the sand is still in the car. It is the wittiest of the drops and the most wearable at home in February, out of office, mentally in Antalya, counting the days, it is a lot of days, but it keeps its illustration too, because missing a place is not only a joke. Somewhere in it a turtle is asleep at Çıralı and the caption reads iyi uykular.
Missing a place is not only a joke.
Until Next Summer
05 · 25 designs
Stone and Shade
Stone and Shade is the inland, uphill, out-of-the-sun half of Antalya. Aspendos still has its acoustics and still has an audience. Hadrian’s Gate has been walked through for nineteen centuries. Termessos sits in cloud, Pamphylia is the old name for the plain, and in Kaleiçi the useful move at two in the afternoon is to find a courtyard, order something, and do nothing particularly well. The collection is built on ornament and architecture: Iznik panels and roundels, pomegranate mandalas, a Seljuk alphabet, engraved olive terraces. The quietest and most grown-up of the drops so far.

I’m on my fifth çay... Pray for me
One more, then we’ll go
04 · 25 designs
Salt Season
Salt Season is the collection for the months when the sea does the deciding. Boats leave the old harbor before eight, the turtles come up the sand at Çıralı and Patara, Konyaaltı fills and empties and fills again, and somebody works out that swimming in November is a thing you are allowed to do here and quietly does not tell anyone at home. It runs from a plain turquoise sun to a gulet drawn in six inks, from a pebble alphabet to four Turkish words worth knowing: deniz, güneş, kum, keyif. Salt in the hair, sand in the car, no plans until Tuesday.
03 · 25 designs
First Morning
First Morning is about the part of the trip nobody photographs: the first breakfast, the first çay, the first walk down to the water before the heat arrives. Somebody says hoş geldiniz and means it. The simit seller is already out. Breakfast takes three hours because there is no reason for it to take less, and by the time it ends the whole day is still in front of you. The collection runs from a hairline serif to a plate of Antalya breakfast in ten colors, because a first morning belongs to everyone who has one: the person on their fifth visit and the person who landed at two in the morning and cannot quite believe the light.
Breakfast takes three hours because there is no reason for it to take less.
First Morning
02 · 25 designs
Bring Something Back
Bring Something Back is about the oldest instinct a visitor has: you had a good time somewhere and you want to hand a piece of it to someone at home. The collection opens with the nazar, the blue glass eye every traveler carries out of Türkiye in a coat pocket, and works outward from there: a crate of Kumluca tomatoes, olive branches from the Taurus, the fluted minaret that has stood since 1230, a kilim-patterned loggerhead, a breakfast that takes all morning, a list of the nine words you actually learned. Some of it is the shirt you keep for yourself. Most of it is the shirt you buy in the last hour before the airport, for the person who kept an eye on the apartment while you were gone. Twenty-five ways of saying I was there and I thought about you.

Attaleia (Antalya today). Been great since 150 BC
Attaleia, founded by Attalos II
01 · 25 designs
Three Hundred Days
Three Hundred Days is the first Antalya.gift collection, and it is meant to be the whole shop on one page. Twenty-five designs sit side by side here: a serif wordmark quiet enough for dinner, a stained-glass ANTALYA in six colors, an orange crate label, the Roman gate you walk in through, a loggerhead turtle from the nesting coast, a scooter carrying the morning's fruit, and a plain warning that the wearer has recently returned and may stare at the sea. Nothing in the set is trying to match anything else. What holds it together is the place itself, a coast that keeps its sun for most of the year and hands every visitor a different reason to stay: the swimmer, the ruins walker, the one who came for two weeks and is still working out how to explain it. Pick the one that sounds like your version.
Pick the one that sounds like your version.
Three Hundred Days
00 · 7 designs
The Originals
The Originals are the seven designs Antalya.gift opened with, before the collections had names. A retro sun setting behind the Taurus, the coordinates of the beach, a sunset club that meets on the cliffs every evening, and three ways of saying you would rather be here. All seven are single-ink prints on the light Comfort Colors shades, the quiet end of the shop. They stay in the store because people keep asking for them.
ANTALYA.GIFT
Stay with Antalya. A little longer

I’m not lazy, I’m on Antalya-saving mode
Keyif, the art of doing nothing





























































