Since 2009, this site has had one job: find beautiful things and point at them. As of now, we’re selling a few of them too.

The Moss & Fog Shop is open, stocked with objects that passed the same picky filter as everything else we publish. The shop was quiet for a long stretch before this, and if you noticed and wondered what happened, the honest answer is part business decision and part life getting in the way. So before the fun stuff, here’s both.

The Hiatus

We paused it on purpose.

The earlier version of the shop worked the way a lot of small shops start out. A catalog stitched together from wherever we could find inventory, shipped in from suppliers we’d never met, sold because it existed rather than because we’d chosen it. That’s a normal way to start a shop. It just stopped feeling right next to a blog that spends every day being picky about what earns a place on the page.

So we closed it rather than let it keep running on autopilot. Not long after, we moved across the country, back to Portland, which is a bigger disruption than it sounds like when you write it in one sentence. Between the move and wanting to rebuild the shop properly instead of quickly, a few months turned into a longer stretch.

Most of that time went to something simple to describe and slow to do: waiting until we found products we’d want in our own home, made by people who care about the details, before putting anything back on the shelf.

Why Now

Fall felt like the right season to come back.

We wanted the shop open ahead of fall and the holidays, when gift giving and home nesting are already on everyone’s mind, and when a shop like this one has the most reason to exist.

But the bigger reason is the site itself. We wanted a real way to reinvigorate Moss & Fog, not something bolted onto the blog.

A shop that’s curated the way everything else here is curated felt like the right way to do that.

Curation, Made Physical

The same eye, a different medium.

Moss & Fog has always run on one question: is this beautiful, surprising, or strange enough to stop you mid scroll? That’s been the bar for the buildings and photographs and odd corners of nature we’ve covered since 2009, and it’s now the bar every product has to clear too.

That’s a higher bar than “will this sell.” It means a smaller, slower shop than most, built from real inventory we hold and pack ourselves in Portland. Here’s a tour of what’s inside.

New This Month

The Draplin drop.

Here’s the one we’re giddy about. If you’ve spent any time around graphic design, you know Aaron Draplin: co-creator of Field Notes, keeper of the thick line, owner of the most famous beard in the field, and a fellow Portlander. The shop now carries a big batch of Draplin Design Co. goods, embroidered souvenir patches, jean jacket pins, and decals, most of them under ten dollars, plus a foam action cap in a color called Old Growth Green.

His work celebrates everyday Americana, orange juice, the Oregon coast, the Space Shuttle, all drawn in bold, friendly shapes that look like they’ve existed forever. It’s the easiest way we know to put real design on a jacket, a cooler, or a water bottle.

There are 27 DDC pieces in the shop right now, from the “Cukes” patch (cucumbers, wonderfully) to a “Portland Sunny Day” decal. Browse the whole drop here.

Certified Classics

Design history you can eat cereal out of.

Curated doesn’t have to mean precious. The Max dinnerware collection was designed by Lella and Massimo Vignelli in 1964 and won the Compasso d’Oro, Italy’s top design prize, that same year. Heller still makes it, and we stock the rainbow sets: mugs, bowls, and small plates that are stackable, nearly indestructible, and sitting in museum collections while also being perfectly happy to hold your breakfast.

Same spirit, different centuries: Roomytown, a small team in Bath, England, digs through antique color theory books and turns them into prints, enamel trays, and tea towels. Their Colour Wheel print collects twelve wheels dating from 1708 to 1923, and it might be the nerdiest, most beautiful thing in the whole shop. And Gravitas is a stacking game hand carved from Vermont stone, part game, part small sculpture, fully capable of ending friendships.

A Few Gifts Worth Giving

The rest of the shop, in miniature.

Beyond that, the shelves wander happily: Parks Project candles that smell like Zion, Yellowstone trail socks, an entire taxonomy of mushroom hats, bolt action brass pens, pocket survival kits, and hand dipped rainbow tapers. A few favorites:

The fragrance sampler comes from Imaginary Authors, the Portland perfume house that names scents like novels: eight tiny vials, one very good rabbit hole. The heart pin is anatomically correct, ventricles and all, for anyone who wears their heart on their lapel. And the scratch off globe turns your travel history into slowly appearing gold foil, which is a much better trophy shelf than a camera roll.

Made By Us

And the things we print ourselves.

One shelf of the shop is entirely homemade: printable downloads designed in house and set in worn letterpress type on honest cream paper. There’s a campsite pack list with a hundred decisions already made, a road trip version for drives measured in songs, a dinner party hosting kit that gets you to seven o’clock calm, a 2027 wall calendar that’s really twelve small art prints, and two volumes of Field Studies landscapes. Start with the wallpaper pack. It’s free, and your phone deserves better.

A Small Operation, On Purpose

Still just us, doing this by hand.

Moss & Fog has always been a small, independent operation, and the shop is no different. It’s run out of Portland, the inventory is ours, and products get chosen the way posts get chosen: because someone here liked them enough to want them in the world. That means the shop will grow slower than a bigger operation’s would. In exchange, we can stand behind every single thing in it.

If that sounds like a small thing, it isn’t to us. It’s the difference between a shop that happens to have the Moss & Fog name on it and one that feels like Moss & Fog.