Selene
A Whisper of the Aegean in the Heart of Vancouver
In Greek mythology, Selene is the goddess of the moon—mysterious, radiant, and ever-watchful. In Vancouver, she has taken a new form, not as a deity, but as a dining experience. Selene is the latest creation of the Kerasiotis brothers — known for their much-loved Greek restaurants Nammos and Loulas — and brought to life by the multidisciplinary design studio &Daughters. It is a quiet invocation of place, story, and texture.
Stepping into the 2,100-square-foot space, guests are gently transported by a deep, elemental reverence for the Aegean. Local artist Emiko Mizukami has painted whimsical frescoes across the walls, animating them with immortal figures — Gaia, Uranus, Helios, Hyperion — spirits of earth, sea, and sky who seem to watch over the dining room with a light, eternal touch. They dance across the plaster like myths half-remembered from a dream, their presence whispering that this space is sacred, if only for a meal.
The interior, by &Daughters’ co-founders Darcy Hanna and Emma Sims, finds its voice in restraint. Grey plaster walls, concrete floors, and pale quartz countertops create a backdrop that is intentionally subdued. The architecture distills Greece. Instead of leaning on iconography, it leans into material memory — dusty, sun-faded tones reminiscent of summer light falling across volcanic stone.
Playful tension emerges in details that evolve with touch and time. Columns and handrails are wrapped in natural rope, a tactile reminder of Greece’s agrarian and maritime roots. Braided rattan shades stretch above the room like lines cast from a boat, while an olive tree anchors the center — rooting reception, bar, and chef’s table in quiet unity. Overhead, a stained pine trellis evokes the illusion of a skylight — filtered sunlight over earth, just as it might fall in Paros or Patmos.
Selene may be the younger sibling to the brothers’ earlier venues, but it offers a very grown-up narrative — less traditional, more nuanced. The food draws from across the broader Aegean region, including neighboring Turkey. The approach is quietly confident: sophisticated without being performative. Everything at Selene — from the custom shelving to the rope-wrapped rails — is a reverence for texture and slowness connected to the idea that the space itself is part of the meal.
In an age of hurried experiences and loud branding, Selene is a place that dares to move at the pace of mythology. Like the goddess from which it takes its name, it glows not in full daylight, but in the softer hours — when stories are told and meals are shared.
