The Journal · Issue 06
A small house of twelve frames.
We started in 2019 above a record shop in Brooklyn, with one acetate frame, three tools, and a stubborn opinion about how glasses should fit.
Six years later we still make twelve frames. We still hand-finish every pair. And we still believe the best glasses are the ones you forget you're wearing — until someone asks where you got them.
We are five people. We answer our own phones. We do our own adjustments. We send a hand-written note with every order, and we still remember your name the second time you come in.
We don't advertise in airports. We don't have a marketing department. We'd rather make twelve frames well than a hundred frames at random, and we'd rather you heard about us from someone who wears a pair than from anyone we paid.
- Frames
- 12
- Adjustments
- ∞
- People
- 5
On materials.
Italian acetate, Japanese titanium, German hinges. We use what lasts, sourced from people we've known for years. When a part fails, we fix it — not because it's good for the environment (though it is), but because a frame you love for ten years is the kind of object we want to put into the world.
On twelve.
Twelve is a small number on purpose. It means we know every frame we make — how it sits, who it suits, what to recommend when someone walks in wearing the wrong pair. It also means we can change the lineup when something stops working. We retire a frame every spring if it's earned it.