fabric on the table
The hunt
It always starts here. One of us goes off to a charity shop, a vintage fair, a friend-of-a-friend with their nan's airing cupboard open. We're looking for fabric with a story — not pristine bolts, but the corduroy curtain that lived in a kitchen for forty years, the silk lining of a 1970s dressing gown, a wool blanket that's a bit moth-eaten but mostly fine.
We don't ever buy new fabric. If we couldn't find it second-hand, the piece doesn't get made.
indigo dye
Rinse, mend, re-dye
Everything gets a long soak — usually a few days, in cold water with a glug of soda crystals. Stains that come out, come out. Stains that don't, become part of the piece (or get covered with a patch).
If a fabric needs new life, it goes in the dye pot. We use indigo, madder root, onion skins, walnut hulls — whatever's in season. Two pieces dyed the same week will never be exactly the same colour, and we don't try to fix that.
weighted with pebbles
Pattern & cut
This is the slow part. We don't have a standard set of patterns — every piece is drawn around the fabric we actually have. If a vintage curtain gives us 1.4m of usable cloth, that's the pattern: a cropped jacket, or a wrap skirt, or two camisoles — whatever fits without leaving more than a handful of scraps.
The scraps that do appear go into a "future jacket" box. When the box is full, it becomes a patchwork piece.
warm light
Sew
Mostly in the evening, on a 1970s Singer that one of us inherited and that the others are now scared of. French seams where they'll show, sashiko reinforcement where they need to last, hand-finished hems on anything silk or wool.
The label inside is sewn last. It's signed by whoever did the bulk of the work — usually one of us, sometimes all three.
tissue and brown paper
Photograph & list
We photograph each piece on the person who made it (or whoever's around that morning), in real light, on the studio floor. No models, no hire, no Photoshop — what you see is the actual thing, with its actual weight.
Then it goes on the site, with a paragraph about where the fabric came from and what we did to it.
thank-you card
Off it goes
Wrapped in tissue, taped with a sticker, slid into a re-used envelope or recycled box. There's a hand-written note tucked in, telling you what the fabric used to be and how to look after it.
If you ever tear it, snag it, dye it, give it to someone else — let us know. We love to hear what happens next.
See what's hanging on the rail right now.
One-of-a-kind pieces, each with its own little story stitched in.
Shop the closet →