Our Story

Pari. A word that means everything.

In Persian and Urdu, Pari means Fairy.

Fatima, the founder of Pari & Co, is a girl with global roots and a New York soul. A mom of two beautiful girls, a 15-year veteran of the fashion industry, and the kind of woman who never once stopped showing up for everyone else first.

Her two daughters are her fairies. Her inspiration. Her whole reason.

When she finally decided to show up for herself, she named this brand after them.

The day everything changed.

Mother's Day. Her daughter's school. A simple classroom exercise called About My Mom.

The kids were asked a few questions about their mothers. Sweet, innocent questions. And when her daughter was asked:

What does your mom like?

She answered:

That one word hit like a brick.

Not because her daughter was wrong.

Because she was right.

Somewhere between becoming a wife, a mother and a professional, somewhere between the school runs and the board meetings and the perfectly packed lunches, Fatima had quietly, slowly, completely disappeared.

After her first daughter she had PPD. She pushed through it by pouring herself entirely into being the perfect mom. Then came her second daughter, and the years kept flying, and she kept shrinking herself to fit the shape that everyone else needed her to be.

The silent pressure of being the perfect mom is like a dark fog. You do not even notice it settling around you. Until one day your daughter looks at you and sees nothing. No hobbies. No likes. No her.

That was the day Fatima decided to break the cycle.

Starting with herself.

Why she created Pari & Co.

She looked around and realized what was happening to her was not just happening to her.

It was everywhere. The mom at school pickup who looks exhausted but smiles anyway. The executive who crushes it at work but cannot remember the last time she did something just for herself. The woman who gives and gives and gives, and somewhere along the way forgets that she deserves to receive too.

She wanted to create something for that woman. Not a 10-step routine. Not another thing on her list. Something so simple, so intentional and so effortless that even on the hardest days she could still show up for herself.

Because she had two little girls watching her every move. And she refused to teach them that a woman's needs come last.