We do not collect. We curate. Our process begins with a deliberate rejection of the chaotic, the excessive, the unexamined. Every decision is measured, every inclusion justified by a standard that transcends nostalgia. The 1960s-era designs we work with are not relics to be preserved but artifacts to be recontextualized with precision. The sourcing of these designs is a matter of rigorous selection, rooted in an understanding of materiality, historical integrity, and functional longevity.
We trace our origins to mills that still operate with the methodologies of their era. These are not generic producers but specialized workshops, some still active, others long shuttered but whose archives remain intact. Our relationships are with those who maintain the original looms, the dye formulas, the unaltered techniques that define the period. We visit these mills, or their successors, to inspect the physical remnants of their output—sample books, leftover rolls, and the occasional forgotten prototype. The mills we engage are those that understand the weight of their own history, and who are willing to share it without embellishment.
Our access to the material is through trade-only catalogs, many of which were never intended for public consumption. These documents are the result of decades of exclusivity, their contents locked behind the desks of brokers, designers, and curators who once moved within the same circles. We acquire these catalogs through direct negotiation, sometimes from the estates of those who once curated them. Each page is a fragment of a larger puzzle, and we piece together the narrative of the era through the language of these catalogs: their typography, their color swatches, their annotations.
Every design that enters our collection is subjected to a series of tests. The substrate is evaluated for its composition—paper, vinyl, or other materials—each with its own set of implications for durability and application. The repeat is measured with exacting precision, as it determines the scalability of the design. Washfastness is tested under controlled conditions, ensuring that the color does not degrade under exposure to light or water. These are not aesthetic considerations but technical ones, grounded in the practical realities of use. We do not accept deviations from these standards; what fails here is discarded without hesitation.
Our curation is an act of omission as much as inclusion. We cut what is irrelevant: designs that are too faded, too fragmented, or too compromised by subsequent alterations. We cut what is unnecessary: the excessive, the redundant, the unproven. We cut what does not align with our vision of the era—not as a museum, but as a functional archive. This is not a rejection of the past but a refinement of its legacy. The result is a collection that is not only historically accurate but also rigorously useful, a testament to the intersection of history and practicality.