For anyone who's ever come home with a pocket full of shells.
Pearl · Ten shells · All seaside, no sand
My children are dinosaur-mad, and they'll tell you the girl who sold seashells on the seashore grew up to be a hunter of fossils (this I can assure you is a VERY BIG deal). They also smuggle fistfuls of shells home from Kohi beach in the secret pocket of my handbag. I find them everywhere: pockets, drawers, boxes, bedding. So I made some I'm happy to find. There are ten tiny shells, from cowries and urchins to scallops, brushed with a pearl sheen like a glass bowl of 90s Body Shop bath pearls.
The lore
She sells seashells. Legend says the girl in the tongue twister was Mary Anning, who sold fossils on the Dorset coast and found her first sea dragon at twelve. Historians aren't convinced. My children are.
Born of the sea. Aphrodite rose from the foam and came ashore in Cyprus, and Botticelli gave her a scallop shell to ride in on. As a brand-new teenager I spent hours on her beach making wishes. They came true. Just saying.
Small change. For centuries, cowries were money across Africa and Asia. Eight for $75 is a bargain.
What's in it, and what isn't
NZ beeswax and soy, with a cotton wick, finished with a water-based pearl varnish made from mineral pigments. That's the whole list: no fillers, no nasties. No fragrance either. Not "natural fragrance", not a "botanical blend". None.
Give it for
A little fossil hunter's birthday. The cake topper they'll pocket afterwards.
A beach birthday. All the shells, none of the sand in your bag.
Anyone who needs a wish. Make one on each.
The details
Ten shells, from cowries to scallops, about 4 g each
Approx. 30 minutes each, which is plenty for a cake
Lift them off before you cut the cake
Hand-poured and finished in Auckland
For anyone who's ever come home with a pocket full of shells.
Pearl · Ten shells · All seaside, no sand
My children are dinosaur-mad, and they'll tell you the girl who sold seashells on the seashore grew up to be a hunter of fossils (this I can assure you is a VERY BIG deal). They also smuggle fistfuls of shells home from Kohi beach in the secret pocket of my handbag. I find them everywhere: pockets, drawers, boxes, bedding. So I made some I'm happy to find. There are ten tiny shells, from cowries and urchins to scallops, brushed with a pearl sheen like a glass bowl of 90s Body Shop bath pearls.
The lore
She sells seashells. Legend says the girl in the tongue twister was Mary Anning, who sold fossils on the Dorset coast and found her first sea dragon at twelve. Historians aren't convinced. My children are.
Born of the sea. Aphrodite rose from the foam and came ashore in Cyprus, and Botticelli gave her a scallop shell to ride in on. As a brand-new teenager I spent hours on her beach making wishes. They came true. Just saying.
Small change. For centuries, cowries were money across Africa and Asia. Eight for $75 is a bargain.
What's in it, and what isn't
NZ beeswax and soy, with a cotton wick, finished with a water-based pearl varnish made from mineral pigments. That's the whole list: no fillers, no nasties. No fragrance either. Not "natural fragrance", not a "botanical blend". None.
Give it for
A little fossil hunter's birthday. The cake topper they'll pocket afterwards.
A beach birthday. All the shells, none of the sand in your bag.
Anyone who needs a wish. Make one on each.
The details
Ten shells, from cowries to scallops, about 4 g each
Approx. 30 minutes each, which is plenty for a cake
Lift them off before you cut the cake
Hand-poured and finished in Auckland
