When Nadeen Al Towaiya returned from the States to Oman as a teenager, she found herself searching for something that did not yet seem to exist: a space where young people could speak openly, experiment creatively and feel part of a community. Instead of waiting for that space to appear, she helped build it herself.

Founded in 2020, Omani Archive began as an Instagram page and gradually grew into a youth platform that highlights emerging creatives, organises events and gives young people a place to share their work. Nadeen’s latest project, Tchiikago, takes that same community-first approach into a different field: thrifting.

We spoke to her about growing up between Oman and the US, the evolution of Omani Archive, the country’s creative scene, and why opening a thrift store in Muscat has already sparked such a strong reaction.

— Nadeen, first I would love to ask you about the journey that led you to create Omani Archive and, later, Tchiikago thrift store. Could you start by telling me a little about yourself?

— Sure! I grew up between Oman and the States. There was a lot of back and forth.

Because of my parents’ careers, I was exposed to many different cultures. That is how I developed such a strong interest in diversity, culture and community. I also came to understand how significant community is because I was taken away from so many different communities throughout my life.

I have channelled that passion for the community into building Omani Archive, which is a youth platform specifically for young people in Oman.

We do a wide range of things. We serve as a media platform, but we also organise both large- and small-scale community events and workshops. We support young people in different ways, whether that means helping them develop or giving them a platform to showcase their creative talents.

— At what point in your life did you feel the need to create this platform?

— It started when I moved back to Oman from the States. I returned looking for a community and for spaces where I could be creative and develop that side of myself, but I couldn’t really find them.

I had also been living in New York, which is a very liberal place. Back in Oman, I didn’t find many people who were openly expressing themselves. I felt that this kind of space was missing.

That led me to create the Omani Archive alongside three other people. Some of the original founders have since gone in different directions, but there are now three of us: Al-Waleed Al Bloushi, Bissan Al-Kindi and me. We have been working on it for six years.

We created the Instagram page in 2020. Throughout COVID, we focused entirely on digital media, and we received a lot of engagement because we talked about whatever we found interesting. From there, we began building a community.

When the COVID restrictions eased and people were allowed to go out again, we started organising smaller events. Then, at one point, we held an event where we were expecting around 50 people — and 600 showed up. We were not prepared at all, but we were incredibly grateful. It showed us how many young people in Oman were looking for a space where they could be creative, meet like-minded people and discover different talents.

That is how the Omani Archive began and how it has developed over time. Now, we are moving towards becoming more of a startup because we are building a digital platform.

— As someone who is part of the Omani creative community, how would you describe it?

— If I were to describe the Omani creative community, I would say they are passionate and stubborn — in a really good way.

Many Omani creatives strongly connect their work to the country’s culture, which I absolutely love. Oman has such a deep and rich cultural identity. It is also a major reason people are drawn to the country — because of how traditional and culturally rooted it remains.

Almost every creative I have met incorporates Oman into their work in some way. You can see that in Aziz’s [Abdulaziz Al-Hosni] work, for example. His use of colour is beautiful, but as an Omani looking at it, you can also recognise so many different aspects of our culture.

That is one of the things I love most about the creatives here. Even when they are struggling against certain cultural or societal limitations and obstacles, they are still proud of where they come from and continue to incorporate it into their work. I think that is a very beautiful thing.

— Omani Archive is dedicated to highlighting Oman’s creative and inspiring people. Who would you personally single out? Is there anyone whose story has stayed with you?

— Through Omani Archive, I have had the privilege of documenting and celebrating so many inspiring people, but a few stories have stayed with me. One of the most meaningful was Lamia Al Mugheiry, an Omani-Kenyan artist whose contribution to music was remarkable. Although she had a significant impact on the industry, many people in Oman weren’t familiar with her story. Being able to research her life and share her legacy with a new generation was incredibly rewarding, and it reminded me how important it is to preserve and celebrate overlooked voices.

On the contemporary side, Silent Angels is someone whose work has always fascinated me. His music feels less like listening to songs and more like stepping into another world. It is immersive, cinematic, and deeply emotional. We also had the opportunity to interview CHNDY, who has made a significant contribution to Oman’s creative industry and has been a genuine supporter of Omani Archive over the years.

Finally, two visual artists who have left a lasting impression on me are Fatma Al Mousawi, founder of Gharshoob.co, and Asma Creates. They played a huge role in bringing Bayt Maskoon to life, which was one of the first immersive haunted house experiences in Oman inspired by Omani folklore. The experience was based on the book Sarim by Ammar Al Naimi and invited visitors to step inside a world shaped by local myths, legends, and storytelling. It was so much more than a haunted house. It was an artistic experience that celebrated Omani culture in a completely new way. Seeing how their visual storytelling transformed an empty space into something so immersive showed me the power of creativity and collaboration.

Looking back, what connects all of these people is that they are storytellers in their own way. Whether through music, visual art, or cultural preservation, they have each shaped Oman’s creative landscape, and it has been a privilege to help share their stories with a wider audience.

— What is the goal of Omani Archive?

— With Omani Archive, I have always wanted to create a physical space where creatives and young people could fully be themselves, feel safe and express themselves freely.

That could eventually become a permanent creative hub, or it could take the form of a platform that is always available to the community. We are still figuring out what that will look like, and it may be something for the future.

But my ultimate goal is to have a permanent physical space that people can turn to as a creative hub — one that isn’t limited by society or by any external expectations.

— You are also opening Tchiikago, a thrift store in Muscat. Many of my friends often look to European thrift stores as a reference. What inspired you when you first started thinking about launching your own thrift store?

— When I was very young and living in the States, my mom took me to a huge thrift store called Uniqlo. It wasn’t the kind of place with a carefully curated vintage collection. It was a massive store where you really had to search — you could easily spend an hour or two looking through everything.

There is also a big flea-market culture in the US. People sell their second-hand belongings, and there are estate sales, where items from someone’s home are sold after they pass away. I experienced a lot of that growing up, and I loved the treasure-hunting aspect of it. You never really know what you are going to find, and that is something I wanted to bring to Oman.

Bringing a full flea-market concept to Oman wouldn’t be easy, partly because we don’t have many established second-hand businesses here. We do have Souq Al Juma, the historic Friday Market, where people sell used clothes and other belongings. That is absolutely part of thrift culture, but most of the sellers are individuals rather than established thrift businesses, so it is slightly different from the kind of organised second-hand retail experience I have in mind.

A full flea market would also require a large-scale event and many people with items they wanted to sell. My idea is to recreate that treasure-hunting experience on a smaller scale, which is how I am starting.

Eventually, I would like the store to become more curated, but for now, the selection will be broader. I was also inspired by Buffalo Exchange in the US. I love that thrift store because it is very community-focused and gives people the opportunity to exchange their clothes for store credit. There is this sense of giving and receiving, which I really like.

I think we need more stores like that, especially in Oman, because we don’t really have that kind of experience here yet.

— What was the reaction of the audience when you announced the store?

— Actually, it is very controversial. Some people were very supportive and said they couldn’t wait for the opening.

But there were also a lot of negative reactions to the store itself. Some people were asking, “Why should we buy second-hand clothes? Why not just donate them to people in need?” Others said they could never wear something that another person might have sweated in or left dirty. There was a lot of, I would say, a superiority complex around wearing somebody else’s clothes.

But I also think many people simply aren’t educated about thrifting because it isn’t really part of the culture here. It is genuinely not something people in Oman are used to, so we have to break that stigma and explain that thrifting also benefits the planet. It keeps clothing in circulation and prevents it from ending up in landfill.

A couple of weeks ago, I visited a charity warehouse in Oman because I wanted them to become a partner. I need somewhere to donate the clothes that don’t sell because I don’t want to simply throw them away.

The warehouse was filled with clothes, furniture and all kinds of donated items. I asked whether people knew about it and whether they advertised what was available. They told me that they only distributed the items to families in need. I then asked what happened to everything that was left over. They said it was sent to the UAE, where it was either recycled or disposed of.

People assume that all the clothes they donate eventually reach someone in need, but that isn’t necessarily true. We already have a global surplus of clothing. Around 92 million tonnes of textile waste go to landfill every year. The problem isn’t that there aren’t enough clothes available — there are too many. They need to be redistributed and kept in use before they are sent away or disposed of.

That is the conversation I am trying to have. I am not going to argue with people in an Instagram comment section, but I want to communicate it through the store’s page and through the media.

So, yes, there has definitely been a lot of backlash. I don’t think everyone is ready for the idea yet, but that is fine. We will see what happens.