ZIGGY CHEN’s PRITRIKE doesn’t shout. It hums like the low, steady pulse of rain on summer earth. The name itself, a blend of primal and strike, hints at the quiet force at its core: the kind that shapes landscapes over time, wearing stone smooth, drawing life from soil.

This collection moves with that same ease. The clothes are soft, unstructured, as if they’ve always been worn. Natural fibers (hemp, silk, linen) carry the touch of something lived-in, their roughness softened but never fully erased. Even gold, bonded onto fabric, feels less like ornament and more like something uncovered, a vein of light running through rock.

Prints mimic rain’s accidental art, the way droplets blur ink on paper, or mark concrete with fleeting patterns. The effect is less deliberate than discovered, like stumbling upon a wall where time and weather have collaborated.

Check it out below: