Sally Kite’s day job is in the corporate realm of what she calls “luxury accessory design,” where heritage is king. Six95, Kite’s upstart kitchen-sink imprint, is exactly the opposite.
“My commercial work operates within briefs and aesthetics defined by clients; I often have expansive resources to play with,” says Kite. “With Six95, the inverse is true: no brief, no rules, and limited means. My decisions are guided by intuition and materials available to me. It’s a kind of creative constraint that forces fresh outcomes.”
Six95 is Kite unleashed, so to speak. The British designer could even create leashes, if she so desired, because the imprint currently focuses on leather accessories but future plans include everything from clothing to “glass objects.” The Six95 difference lies in how these familiar forms are mutated by unexpected accoutrement.
“This act of re-contextualization sits at the heart of my practice, the transformation of utilitarian objects into more poetic artifacts,” Kite says. “The result is a sculptural object.”
Though Kite will repurpose anything from washers to gym equipment, cash is king. Six95’s totes are riveted with actual spare change, its charms are woven around varying sizes of pound sterling, and its belts are buckled with flattened souvenir coins. But the difference between Kite’s practice and that of some pusher of British tchotchkes is that her ephemera is attached to elegant leather goods that she individually produces of veg-tanned calfskin and earthy suede. These are plainly classy accessories that exist somewhere in between Westernwear and Duchamp's readymades. But because they’re grounded by hearty leather, Six95's handsome goods also happen to make quite a lot of cents.
“I’m drawn to materials that sit on the edge of good and bad taste, the space where beauty becomes unstable, and therefore more desirable,” Kite says. “The tension with vulgarity or excess is often what makes an object charged. It’s about reworking value systems, aesthetic codes, and challenging the hierarchies of taste.”
Kite’s process recalls the newness-from-oldness approach of creative forebears like Martin Margiela, BLESS, and Marine Serre. But whereas Margiela’s upcycled eggs and BLESS’ fur wigs were showpieces, Six95’s goods are daily drivers. Funky daily drivers, sure, but hardy handbags and belts intended to be used frequently and lovingly.
Six95 got its start at Jake’s, the lively little once-a-week market founded by Jake Burt, one half of hip young label Stefan Cooke. Burt quickly got in touch after happening to glimpse a bespoke piece that Kite created for a friend, suggesting that she produce a few special-edition items for Jake’s. They were a hit. “His encouragement and support helped me take Six95 from a one off idea to a small brand,” says Kite. Brisk sales and Burt's encouragement inspired Kite to take Six95 more seriously as a standalone brand; her efforts have earned Six95 a handsome slate of stockists from 2026 on, including Dover Street Market and nearly a half-dozen stores in Japan.
But even as it expands, Kite is adamant that Six95 will never lose the human touch. Though she produces wholesale orders for international clients, Kite prefers the individuality (and waste-consciousness) of made-to-order product. The idealized end goal is that of a “direct relationship” between goods and customer, she says, not unlike that of an artist and patron. These dime-a-dozen handbags are anything but common.
Kite exerts the purest level of control over Six95’s oeuvre: “A bag feels finished when I want it!” she enthuses. But more importantly, Kite’s insistence on a hands-on process guarantees that Six95 will never grow as big as the “established houses” where she continues to hone her craft. And that’s just fine by her.
“I’m not interested in conventional scale or market logic,” she says. “If remaining small is the price of creative autonomy, I accept that.”
