(One married couple. Two pairs of hands. Several hundred tools. And one inexplicable urge to save furniture—and also, somehow, make bags.)
We are a small operation. Very small. Just two humans, married by law and bonded by varnish fumes, who one day looked at a beat-up Empire dresser and said, “Let’s bring it back to life.” So we did. And then we did it again. And again. Somewhere along the way, we also started sewing bags out of Italian leather and old jeans, because apparently we don’t know how to sit still.
Nataliya
I used to travel the world for work. I wore tailored jackets and drank espresso in Vienna and thought about frescoes in Florence. But what really captivated me was the furniture—the kind made before electricity, when people still believed in dovetails and destiny. I started restoring antiques, not out of boredom, but out of the quiet suspicion that I could love a 200-year-old sideboard better than its last owner did.
Then I started making bags. Yes, bags. Beautiful, stubborn, uncooperative bags. With thick leather, reinforced seams, copper rivets, and my own two hands (plus a semi-industrial sewing machine and a little profanity). Each one is different. Each one is personal. Each one tries to argue with me—and loses.
I don’t just restore pieces; I adopt them, patch them up, give them names, and send them off to better lives. I do the same with the bags. And it turns out people like that. They like history with a zipper.
Oleg
Oleg is my husband. He didn’t ask to be part of this, but here he is, covered in sawdust and muttering about wood grain. What started as a hobby became a habit and then quietly spiraled into expertise. Now he does all the meticulous work—leveling warped legs, splicing in antique veneers, and muttering “this wasn’t square in 1880 either” as he measures for the fifth time.
He doesn’t talk much about it, but every piece that leaves our shop has Oleg’s golden hands behind it. Without him, I’d have a pile of beautiful, broken parts. With him, we’ve got something much closer to magic.
Together, we restore. We create. We argue about whether this finish looks “too modern.” We go on late-night supply runs. We forget what day it is. We run on coffee, inspiration, and unreasonable optimism. And we love it.
Welcome to our world—where forgotten things find second chances, and a bag is never just a bag.